Riot School (Sidestreets)

Rayner, Robert

ISBN 10: 1459411706 ISBN 13: 9781459411708

Publisher: Lorimer Children & Teens, 2017

Synopsis

In the middle of the night, five teens break into a small-town high school to protest the decision to close the school and move them to a big city school. Led by Bilan, whose experience with the Arab Spring fired a passion to peacefully fight against injustice, the Gang of Five occupy their old school. The local police chief and the town quietly cheer them on. When the school board calls in a security firm to break up their occupation using any means necessary, including force, the Five have to decide how far they will go to show their outrage at having no control over decisions that affect their lives.

About this title

About the Author

Robert Rayner lives in New Brunswick. His books have been nominated for the Ann Connor Brimer Award and the Hackmatack Award and have also been named Canadian Children's Book Centre Our Choice selections.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Riot School

By Robert Rayner

James Lorimer & Company Ltd

Copyright © 2017 Robert Rayner
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4594-1170-8

CHAPTER 1

Protest

It's more carnival procession than demonstration. A group of high school kids straggle down Atlantic Avenue, taking up most of the road. Girls in purple and yellow cheerleader outfits. A Lion, a Scarecrow, a Tin Man, and a pigtailed Dorothy — the drama class — ready, like the cheerleaders, for after-school practice. Basketball players in purple and yellow uniforms throw needlessly hard chest passes and leap to shoot imaginary baskets. A group of girls, taking advantage of the end-of-year relaxation of the school dress code, strut with stomachs exposed between white denim short shorts and lacy, see-through tank tops.

They wave as cars weave slowly through the group. Some drivers smile and wave back. Others scowl and blow their horns.

Bilan Mahamoud, in a green hijab and short red jacket over a long, dark green dress, marches at the head of the students. Arn Saunders, in black jeans with a hoodie covering his almost shaved black hair and part of his dark face, is beside her. Barlow Fist has his cap pulled so low it rests on his sunglasses, and shoulders hunched in an army surplus jacket over a tee shirt with Like I Care? on the front. He saunters among the cheerleaders, who cartwheel and pirouette around him. Grant Mograno swaggers with his basketball teammates. At the rear — part of the group but not part of it — Lettie Snow drifts with her eyes on the ground.

Then, from a car creeping through the crowd, "Why don't you go back to where you came from?"

It doesn't often happen in the little seaside town of Savage Harbour, but Arn and Bilan, at the head of the procession, are always ready for it. Arn steps directly in front of the car, forcing it to stop. The driver — male, middle-aged, red-faced, balding — climbs out. He marches close to Arn and says, "Move your black arse out of the way of my car."

A police cruiser appears, moving slowly towards the students.

Barlow moves to the front of the group and murmurs to Arn, "Best let it go."

The driver grins, pointing his finger at Arn. "You heard your friend, boy. Back off."

Barlow steps between Arn and the driver. He puts his hand on the driver's chest and says, "No. You back off."

The driver scoffs, "Or what?"

Without taking his eyes from the driver, Barlow slowly takes off his sunglasses. He holds them out and Bilan takes them. Barlow says, "Or I'll beat the crap out of you, right here in front of everybody."

The driver hesitates, then scurries back to his car, making monkey noises as he goes. As the man pulls away, Barlow takes his sunglasses from Bilan, who murmurs, "Thank you."

Arn snarls at Barlow, "Why don't you keep out of my way? I don't need you to fight my battles."

"I know," says Barlow. "But the thing is — I can punch out dickheads like that and nothing will happen to me. You do it and you're in shit."

Bilan says, "He is right, Arn." She takes his arm and pulls him away. But Arn still scowls back at Barlow.

The police car has stopped a few metres up the street with lights flashing. Sergeant Tony Hansen notes the registration of the car that's pulling away as he approaches the students. A few minutes earlier he was reading the Atlantic Daily News with his feet on his desk and a cup of coffee in his hand. Then the secretary called from the front desk: "Got a call from St. Isaac's School about kids walking out. The principal wants the police to stop them." Sgt. Hansen was half inclined to ignore the call. It was a warm June morning near the end of term. The kids always walked out at least one day this time of year, usually to go to the beach. It was like a tradition. He'd done it himself. But nothing else was on, so he decided to take a look. He headed down to Atlantic Avenue, which ran alongside Seaside Park, where the old school sat like a stately home.

He knows some of the students by name, all of them by sight. He's had a few run-ins with a couple of them, namely Arn and Barlow. He has his men keep an eye on the strange girl at the back, the one he sees on the street at all hours of the day and night. And then there's the immigrant girl at the front of the group. He's uneasily aware it may not be correct to think of her like that, but he doesn't know her name.

He leads the students to the sidewalk and asks, "What's going on, guys? What are you doing out of school?"

The girl, who seems to be the leader, has her hands on her hips. A pretty kid, with skin the colour of amber, she barely comes to his chin. But she stares at him like a challenge. He thinks that if her eyes could shoot fire he'd be burned to a crisp.

"We are demonstrating," she says. "And you cannot stop us." Her voice is taut, her diction perfect.

"Whoa," says Sgt. Hansen. "I'm not trying to, not unless you block traffic or cause a major disturbance, Miss ... er ..."

"Mahamoud. Ms. Mahamoud."

"Sorry. Ms. Mahamoud. Just, it would have been helpful if you'd let us know you were planning to demonstrate. Maybe I could have helped with traffic control."

"We do not need help. Thank you."

"So who's in your group?"

"The grade eleven class. The principal said we were not allowed to protest because children — children! — did not have the right to question decisions made by the authorities."

"That'd be the decision about the school?"

"Which means the decision concerning our future."

"Where are you marching to?"

"The town hall, where the District Education Council is meeting."

"How about I follow you, keep the traffic back?"

"Then you will harass us when we get to the town hall."

Sgt. Hansen sighs. "I'll stay out of your way, unless something happens that needs my attention."

CHAPTER 2

We Will Be Heard

With Bilan at their head, the students march the three blocks to the town hall, a narrow, three storey, brick building. Charlie Higgs, the door guard, with rounded shoulders and a shock of white hair, sees them approaching. He stands in the doorway with his arms held wide and says firmly, "Sorry, young ladies and gentlemen. You can't come in."

Bilan says, "But we want to address the Education Council."

"The meeting's private. Sorry, dear. Best I can do is take a message."

"Please ask the council if we can talk to them about St. Isaac's School."

Charlie Higgs returns a few minutes later, shaking his head. "I spoke to the superintendent of schools, Mr. Kitchener. He says students are not allowed to attend meetings of the council. He says the principal of St. Isaac's has informed him you have left the school unlawfully and you are to return right away."

Bilan purses her lips. "What room are they in?

Charlie Higgs nods at the ground floor window beside him.

She turns to face the window and starts chanting loudly, "We have a voice and we will be heard."

She looks around at the students, cupping her ear. They repeat after her, uncertainly at first, then louder as Bilan goes on. "We have a voice and we will be heard."

Barlow uses a garbage can as a drum to beat out the rhythm. The students stamp their feet with him. Their voices grow louder. Charlie Higgs, watching from the doorway, moves his shoulders with the beat. Sgt.

Hansen, who has parked across the road and is leaning on his car, smiles.

A rock sails from the group. It shatters the window of the room right above the room where the meeting is being held.

The chanting and stamping and drumming falter and stop. Charlie Higgs rushes into the building.

Sgt. Hansen mutters, "Stupid." He saw who threw the rock. He starts across the road, but stops when Charlie Higgs comes out again. He is followed by a tall, sharp-featured woman wearing a pale grey business suit. She looks at the students over her glasses and announces, "I am the mayor, Ms. Sally Burr. I was in my office and heard breaking glass."

Bilan steps forward. "We are sorry. Someone in our group threw a rock. We take full responsibility and we will take a collection to pay for the damage."

Sgt. Hansen thinks, Well done, Ms. Mahamoud.

The mayor says, "But what are you doing here?"

"We are demonstrating. We want to address the Education Council but they refuse to let us in."

Ms. Burr smiles. "It's good to see young people taking an interest in political affairs. But breaking windows does your cause no good."

Bilan repeats, "We are sorry."

The mayor goes on, "If you're willing to pay for the damage and promise not to let any future demonstrations get out of hand, then the Town will overlook the misdemeanour."

"We will pay in full, and we will clean up right now if you like."

Ms. Burr smiles again. "Not necessary."

As the students move away, a tall, heavily built man in a dark blue suit comes to the door. He has thinning grey hair and thick eyelashes that stick out like fins. Sgt. Hansen recognizes the superintendent of schools straight away. He's surprised it's taken Stafford Kitchener this long to make an appearance. At meetings of the school and community liaison committee, the superintendent always presses the police to take a more active role in disciplining the youth of the town. At the last meeting he proposed an eight o'clock curfew for everyone under the age of sixteen.

Stafford Kitchener says, "What happened?"

Ms. Burr says, "Just a broken window. Nothing serious."

"Did the children do it?"

"Yes. But they've apologised and agreed to pay for the damage."

Stafford Kitchener turns to Sgt. Hansen. "I want them disciplined."

"What for?"

"Vandalism. Breaking the window."

"Ms. Burr has already forgiven that."

"For truancy, then."

"That would be the school's job, not ours."

The superintendent glares at him. Then he turns and stalks back into the town hall, brushing past the mayor and Charlie Higgs.

Sgt. Hansen hurries after the students, who are straggling across the road. He walks beside Bilan Mahamoud. "You handled that well. I know who threw the rock. I may have a quiet word with him later on, but no more than that."

"Thank you."

"Is that the end of your protest?"

She stops and looks up at him. He thinks, What amazing eyes. Huge and almond-coloured. He doesn't think he could look away if he wanted to.

"Oh no," she says quietly. "It is just the beginning."

CHAPTER 3

Barlow

Two months later, two weeks before the new term begins, Barlow Fist is on his way through Seaside Park. He's going to check out the best way to break into St. Isaac's School. He browses through the Savage Harbour tourist brochure as he walks, hoping it makes him look innocent. He grabbed it a few seconds ago from Grant Mograno, who's standing at the main gate. Dressed in a blazer and white shirt and tie, Grant hands them to tourists visiting the thirty-five acre park that surrounds the historic school.

Barlow smiles when he thinks about Grant saying, "You can't have that."

Barlow, turning and walking backwards, said, "So what are you going to do about it?" He knows Grant won't come after him.

He can't get into trouble while he's doing his summer job. It is no surprise Grant snagged himself one of the town's summer positions, since his father is on the council. Grant is welcome to it. Barlow wouldn't get himself up like that even if they paid him.

He sits on a bench at the edge of the trees, waiting for the chance to stroll over to the school. He stretches out his legs. Hands behind his head, he looks around casually, just another tourist enjoying the late August sun. No one nearby. Grant was watching him a moment ago, like Barlow was somehow suspicious. But now he's busy with a group of tourists.

Barlow strolls through the wooded area of the park. He comes to the edge of the trees and checks all around again. Then he walks smartly across The Meadows, the expanse of grass that surrounds the old school. He looks around again. Still no one near, no one looking. He sidles around to the back of the school and stops at the first classroom window, his old homeroom. He cups his hands to each side of his face to keep reflections off the glass as he peers in and studies the window latch. It's still broken, like it has been for years. No need to even break the glass, just ease it sideways and climb through.

He looks around the room. It's just as it was at the end of term. He runs the numbers. Four computers, four monitors, $1,000 right there. Another four in each classroom, six classrooms, that'll be $6,000. A dozen in the library, two in the office. Another $3,500. He could get at least $20 for each desk but he's not sure they're worth the bother. He moves on to the next window. It looks into the gym. Basketballs, soccer balls, volleyballs, at least a hundred. They would be a bargain at $5 apiece. Cross-country skis, maybe a couple dozen of them, $75 a set. That's around $10,000 altogether and there is probably more stuff he can't see. He grins. He'll be able to retire for a while, even cutting in Dean, his twenty-oneyear-old brother.

So, early hours of the morning, Barlow and Dean will drive his brother's van in on the service road that comes off Shore Road beside the park, lights off. They'll park on the rough grass behind the school. In through Barlow's old homeroom window, open the double gym doors to take the stuff out. No one will hear and he knows the school has no alarm, never has, what with the people of Savage Harbour being such friendly, trusting folk. They're famous for it, more fool them. With luck, no one will even know about the break-in for weeks.

He moves on to the next classroom and looks in to see what's worth taking. He jerks back, thinking he sees movement in the hallway on the other side of the classroom.

He peers in again, cautiously. No sign of movement now. He must be imagining things. Still, he feels spooked. But he knows enough.

He just has to choose the best night to break in. And he already knows when that will be.

CHAPTER 4

Lettie

Lettie wakes up on the staff room floor. She knows it's late, but it doesn't matter. It's August, so there's no need to worry about anyone walking in on her. She had camped in St. Isaac's in the winter term when she couldn't find anywhere else and was afraid of freezing if she slept on the street. Then, she liked to be up and dressed and hidden in the washrooms by six o'clock, when the custodian came on duty. She hid there until the kids started arriving at eight. Or she sneaked out and got breakfast at McDonald's and returned to school as if she was coming from home — a home she doesn't have, not since her parents split.

She falls into a half-sleeping daydream as she remembers her parents leaving. Her father hugged her and said, "I'll only be out west a few months, until jobs start opening up here." Her mother and her new man decided they'd move to Newfoundland, where he could work for his brother in the oil business. Lettie, not wanting to leave St. Isaac's and Savage Harbour, told her father she was staying with her mother. Then she told her mother she was joining her father. When her mother and her man dropped her off at Laneyville Airport as they set off, Lettie cashed in the plane ticket they'd bought her and caught the bus back to Savage Harbour. She knew she'd get away with it unless her parents talked. And how would they do that when Lettie had been the go-between for the last two years?

Now she squats wherever she can find somewhere for the night. Sometimes it's the Savage Harbour Museum, where she hides in a coat closet until the staff locks up, then leaves early in the morning before the cleaners arrive. Sometimes it's the summer cottage that has been for sale forever, getting in through a basement window with a missing latch. She sleeps on the beach on fine nights. She doesn't know how she'll manage when term starts in September. But she can probably still sleep in the old school at least some nights, at least for a while, although it will be different.

But then, it will be different for all the kids.

She decides to take a shower. She hates the change rooms when they're crowded and noisy, but she likes them now that they're as silent and empty as the rest of the school. She sets off down the hallway, glancing in the empty classrooms. Something stops her. Someone's peering through one of the windows in her old homeroom, hands cupped around the eyes, nose pressed against the glass. Tourists are usually content to look at just the front of the school. She draws back, waits a few seconds, then peeks in the room cautiously. There's no one at the window now. It must have been a tourist, or little kids fooling around.

Lettie takes a long shower and dresses in one of her two outfits, both jeans and a sweatshirt. She has one set to wear while the other dries. She glimpses herself in the mirror. She looks at the dirty blonde hair hanging around her shoulders, her short, scrawny build. Her old-fashioned glasses with the thick black rims would be cool retro on other girls, but on her are just sad. She looks away quickly.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Riot School by Robert Rayner. Copyright © 2017 Robert Rayner. Excerpted by permission of James Lorimer & Company Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Lorimer Children & Teens
• Publication date: 2017
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1459411706
• ISBN 13: 9781459411708
• Binding: Library Binding
• Number of pages: 184