“Attention, students of Sansbury Sanctuary,” blared the speaker, “If any of you would like to be part of our leadership council for the Academic Medley Division coming up this month, please sign your name on the sign-up sheet at the front office. Thank you!”
Thomas’ eyes lit up once the usual ringtone, signalling the end of the announcement, ended. It was always his dream to be part of the Academic Leadership Council for his school, but every year, there was a conflict, Sansbury Sanctuary was SO different to Green Park Primary, it wasn’t easy to get into anything. But as he stacked his maths textbooks from his desk, leaving from what seemed like the cosy bedroom of his house rather than an ordinary classroom, a particular warmth surrounded his body meaning one thing: it was his year.
Once break time began, nearly half of Thomas’ classmates went rushing towards the front kiosk to sign up for the Academic Medley Division almost simultaneously. Soon, Thomas was the only student in the corridor as he sauntered towards the wide, oak wooden door leading to the office. Instantly, once he had unbolted the door, a colossal crowd engulfed the atmosphere alongside the noise of teenagers gossiping. Thomas scrambled to the front of the crowd, where three sign-up sheets were blue tacked, beside each other. He pulled out his lucky pen, an emerald green, PaperMate pen he first received when he was in Year 3, and raced his finger down the everlasting red and blue scribbles of anonymous names. Finally, he came to a blank box, numbered ‘57’ and neatly signed his name: Thomas Wilson. Just as he turned to leave, a familiar voice rose behind him, “Trying out for leadership again Wilson?” sneered the voice.
Oh yes, how could he forget? The popular Year 10 student: Mark Stanton, his nemesis.
Thomas turned around and came face-to-face with his enemy, both with pale faces, but green and black eyes. Mark’s jet-black hair glinted like a mirror reflecting the morning sun, erupting as if it was a volcano, his mouth starting to twist into an ugly grimace. While on the other hand, Thomas, hiding a shy frown, had sleek brown hair neatly combed to his forehead, his fringe lowered just to the left of his right eye; his sweat silently pouring down his face, trudging towards his acne covered chin.
“I don’t blame you, for the sake of it, I bet not even a dolphin could get into it. But soon you might just be the most unpopular kid in school!” Mark sniggered as he stalked away into the yard.
I’ll show him, thought Thomas, I’ll show him what I can do, and soon he’ll regret it, like always! And with that, Thomas ambled towards his locker, getting ready for English class.
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During the first few minutes of Maths class, the intercom once again crackled to life, “A further decision has been made to the Academic Medley Division: if you have put your name down on the sign-up sheet, you are due to present your speech at assembly tomorrow. Thank you.”
Thomas dropped his pencil which clattered on top of his desk, his eyes widened. He wasn’t used to attention and yet thought it would even play a part in his future; he had never felt comfortable speaking aloud to his peers. Soon whispers filled the air around him as eyeballs slowly turned to Thomas’ paralysed face.
‘Why should he even sign up for it in the first place? Did he not know he would have to speak in front of an audience?” murmured someone near the back of the room.
Thomas ignored the indistinct comments around him, but he was still concerned with the slight change. How could it have been changed? Did the Department of Education suddenly change their mind about this, and without warning? Thomas had once believed that this year was his year, now he felt as if it was opposite day, or one of those sorts.
“Now, now class, it’s a test so let us have no more chatter for the last minute. If you are done, please hand in your test and you will be dismissed,” announced Ms Janes.
Suddenly, Thomas forgot all about the speeches, nor the people around him; he glanced back down to his exam: he still had 7 questions left to complete! Hastily, he scribbled down his answers, taking a few quick analyses back at the texts to check his answers. He was just about to finish until-
“There, there, Thomas, the test is over now. Please hand in your paper. Also, will you be a good boy and close the blinds? I also need a break sometimes…” she asked.
Thomas sighed; his day only seemed to be getting worse.
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After a few distressful rehearses at home, Thomas shakily recited his last sentence, “…And if you v-vote for, umm, me and I-I’ll make sure th-that your honest r-requests will b-be granted to imp-improve Sansbury Sanctuary, thank you.”
The next day, the assembly hall was crowded with people, including parents that had come to watch their children perform at the platform, whipping out their mobile phones and cameras. Behind the stage, Thomas waited anxiously for his turn. Suddenly, “Now will you please welcome our very first candidate… MARK STANTON!” blared the principal, full of enthusiasm.
The crowd went wild as Mark raced up the steps; before he reached the platform though, he turned around and faced Thomas.
“Hope you lose Wilson!” he taunted as he climbed onto the platform.
Thomas felt the butterflies in his stomach wiggle around, bulging from every angle.
The minutes turned into hours as Thomas stepped side-to-side trying frantically to calm down. Finally, the principal declared, “And now for our final candidate, will you welcome, Thomas Wilson.”
This time, the crowd went silent. Thomas stepped up and stared at the microphone and back at his palm cards.
“Umm,” he stuttered shakily, “So, if you, umm, v-vote for me, I-I’ll make the sch-schools b-better, thank you.”
There was no applause, just as Thomas expected. He hopped off the stage and raced out of the assembly hall. Silent tears, as rare as gold, pouring down his face, the first time in five years.
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As he arrived at schools the next day, posters of the new captain and vice-captains of the leadership council for the Academic Medley Division and without surprise, Thomas saw Mark stand in the centre, smugly. Though, Thomas did manage to get the ‘Vice-Supporter’ position, Mark clearly was more important than him, as captain. With him as captain, Thomas thought, we would never win, even by the slightest chance.
The practice sessions seemed to be torture; while the other members of the council pleaded Mark to actually practise for the upcoming event, Mark would simply say, “It’s for our own good, we’re good enough already…” and shrug. No matter how hard they argued, Mark always won; no one was willing to help him win the cup just for the sake of his attitude. They needed someone else, someone who wasn’t only a nerd, but also a good coach, with true potential, someone like…
Someone like me, Thomas thought, on a particular afternoon, after a disastrous training session after school.
By then, the entire team had lost hope, as they boarded the bus that would take them to Canberra whilst the morning sun still smiled broadly at them. The council discussed different ways to try and avoid Mark from delaying the, while Mark on the other hand was video calling his parents boasting how good a coach he was.
“And I even taught them how to calculate it even quicker!” he lied.
But Thomas was busy with his own things, cooking up a plan himself to try and end the team’s doom from here, to get rid of Mark once and for all…
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After an exhausting five-hour trip to the “Academic Medley Division Facility”, everyone apart from Thomas was craving to just spend some time in their rooms. Some people even decided to go down to the swimming people that was in the basement, which was as clear as a lake in Switzerland. Thomas, meanwhile, wasn’t interested with adapting to a five-star hotel, he had other plans, to decide on which prank to use on Mark.
I could just cause some trouble myself and just blame it all on Mark, he thought, Classic!
But he soon remembered something, how? Was it even possible to prank a Year 10 bully into something; after all, Mark was older than him?
During breakfast the next day (who couldn’t expect a buffet?), everyone but Thomas chatted and bragged about the different concepts they had memorised earlier. Thomas, however, sat alone and ate silently, avoiding any attraction from others. He still needed some thought towards this as he only had one shot at it. Reluctantly, he left his table and stealthily crawled under Mark’s table, tying his hoes together as Mark bragged to the other captains of different schools. If his plan worked, Mark would easily tr-
But before he could finish visualising the image, soon enough Mark stood up and tripped over the table, knocking fries, potatoes, scrambled eggs, and ketchup everywhere! Soon the room was covered in reddish white paste and covered with yellow crumbs; the hotel manager was covered with potato from head-to-toe.
“Mark, you have shown irresponsible behaviour towards everyone here today, you are clearly disqualified from the tournament until further notice,” he sternly grunted.
“B-but, but, but-I,” Mark complained.
“No but’s,” the host interrupted, “Mrs Tracey, who was the substitute for Sansbury Sanctuary’s captain?”
“Oh yes, hmm, Thomas Wilson sir!” exclaimed Mrs Tracey.
Thomas’ heart skipped a beat.
The End
Peace! ✌️