empty.”
RS Alexander sniggers.
“Start. At. The. Science. Museum,” Aggressive Policeman repeats. “Or. I. Confiscate. Your. Pen.”
“Police brutality,” I mutter and consider drawing Aggressive Policeman beneath the wheels of
Diagram A – Bus
.
Instead, I continue my record of our trip – from the minute we arrived at the museum.
2=08
Minibus Driver gives us two minutes to get off the bus before he takes advantage of being able to take his hands off the steering wheel and uses them to throttle
us.
2=09
The minibus is empty.
2=10
Ms Meeks splits us into pairs - putting me with Smokin’ Joe. I explain that Holly, Porter and I are a trio. Ms Meeks explains that if I don’t want to
be paired up with Smokin’ Joe, she’ll pair me with the Minibus Driver.
I shuffle closer to Smokin’ Joe, ready to defend myself.
Joe just nods at me and continues listening to his iPod.
Maybe he really is sick.
2=18
The museum tour begins.
2=19
RS Alexander goes to the bathroom.
2=40
RS Alexander remains in the bathroom. Porte joins him.
2=50
RS Alexander is STILL in the bathroom.
I ask the security guards to check whether he’s fallen down the loo. They ignore me and listen to their turquoise walkie-talkies.
2=51
Both Porter and RS Alexander reappear. (No thanks to walkie-talkie guards.)
2=55
RS Alexander flinches at every sound as if he’s expecting something big to happen.
2=57
Smokin’ Joe’s nose starts bleeding and blood spurts on to the Mars Lander. The museum guide asks when we’re leaving.
3=00
BOOM! The gallery shakes with the sound of engines firing up. Everyone squeals that the exhibits are coming to life. (Everyone watches too much TV). I explain the
chaos is the result of smoke bombs and sound flx. No one listens.
3=01
Smokin’ Joe runs around, smashing glass and setting off alarms. Ms Meeks tells Smokin’ Joe to stand still. He doesn’t. Mass panic, including a
woman under a fire blanket who keeps knocking into things.
3=07
A museum official announces the Moon Rock is missing and orders us to sit down. More alarms go off.
3=30
The police arrive . . .
Aggressive Policeman collects the records and asks us to remain in our seats. No one else’s report fills two sides of the A4 paper. The police must be glad I’m here.
It’s the details that count.
5
Majority Rules
The museum café serves light lunches and a range of daily specials like pizza, pasta bakes and soup. I know this because it says so on their menu board. Also, I can
smell them. However, the museum café is not serving those things to me, because I have no money and because the serving staff are waiting to be questioned. It’s been hours since lunch
and by the time Aggressive Policeman marches back in I’ve started to wonder which of my fellow LOSERS I’d eat first.
“Right, LOSERS.” Aggressive Policeman slams the reports on the table. “We need to iron out a few discrepancies between your statements.”
Smokin’ Joe screws up his face. “You want us to iron?”
“It’s a metaphor,” I tell him, wrinkling my nose as I smell something burning. I wonder if that happens a lot. (The burning I mean. I don’t wrinkle my nose any more than
the average person.) I’ve never seen a place with as much firefighting equipment as this museum café – extinguishers, sand buckets, fire blankets and the works. I don’t
know whether it makes me feel safer or more alarmed.
“I ain’t ironing no metaphor,” Smokin’ Joe mutters. “My dad says ironing is girls’ work.”
“I’m a girl and I don’t iron,” Holly says. “Porter usually does it before I get the chance.” She ignores Porter’s squeak of protest and pokes Joe in the
chest. “So, your dad is talking absolute—”
“When you’ve finished, geniuses,” Aggressive Policeman interrupts, “there’s some confusion about the length of time Alexander West was missing from the
group.”
“No time at all,” Remarkable Student Alexander protests.