Don't Call Me Ishmael by Michael Gerard Bauer

probably fighting some desperate battle with ores or aliens. I stared numbly at the vacant seat beside him. Don’t ask me why I wasn’t sitting in it. I turned to look at James Scobie next to me. He stared back with unblinking eyes as if he could read every thought in my head, then he nodded slightly and smiled, showing a row of small neat teeth.
    Oh well, I thought, if you’re stuck on the
Titanic
, you might as well have the seat with the best view of the iceberg.

14.
BAD BARRY VERSUS TWITCHY JAMES
    It was around twenty minutes into the lesson when the intercom buzzed and Mr Barker had one of his usual in-depth conversations.
    â€˜Yep. Right. Right. Yep. Righto. Right. I’m on my way.’
    Mr Barker was the school’s ‘go to’ guy. If ever a water or food fight broke out in the yard or someone had money stolen or accidentally swallowed the lid of his pen (Bill Kingsley) or put his fist through a window because he didn’t realise it was shut (Bill Kingsley again) or got his head stuck between the railings of the stairwell (yes, you guessed it) or if ever anyone had to be found, patched up, talked to, yelled at, disciplined, restrained or revived, then the inevitable cries would go up, ‘Get Mr Barker. Find Mr Barker. Go see Mr Barker. Try Mr Barker. Ask Mr Barker.’
    It seemed to me that Mr Barker was so busy dealing with everyone else’s problems that he couldn’t afford the luxury of having problems of his own. Therefore, whenever he wascalled away from class, which was often, his instructions came thudding down like a club.
    â€˜Right, listen up, you lot. I have to leave for a moment. While I’m gone read pages thirty-eight to forty-five and start working through the exercises at the end of the chapter. Leave your seat only if it is on fire. Don’t speak unless it is to reveal your dying wish. Breathe only if it is absolutely necessary. I
will
return. I
will
check your work. I
will
be seeing you at lunchtime if I am not satisfied with both quantity and quality. Are we clear?’
    We were very clear. Yes, you always knew exactly where you stood with Mr Barker–and that was anywhere he told you to. The class settled down to work as Mr Barker looked quickly around the room.
    â€˜Mr Kingsley, if you don’t begin showing signs of productive life immediately, I will switch my laser from stun to destroy. Thank you.’
    Without further comment Mr Barker strode from the room. A few minutes later the first missile arrived. It shot over James Scobie’s head, bounced across the desk and disappeared among legs and feet. The next one struck James Scobie on the back of the head, ricocheted into the air and lobbed on to his workbook. Scobie picked up the tight wad of paper and turned it over like a piece of forensic evidence.
    Barry Bagsley’s voice spilled across the room like a stain. ‘Hey, E.T., isn’t it time you phoned home?’
    OK, listen to me now. I’m an expert in this field. This is what you do. Just pretend nothing happened. Mr Barker will be back soon.
Forget about it. Just ignore it. And, whatever you do, don’t turn around.
    James Scobie turned around.
    Oh. All right then, just take a quick peek, but don’t make eye contact and definitely do not stare.
    James Scobie stared.
    Oh my god.
    â€˜What are you looking at, ya spazoid alien freak?’
    OK, now this is a bit like what Miss Tarango would call a rhetorical question. It doesn’t require an answer. So don’t answer it!
    â€˜I’m not sure,’ answered James Scobie thoughtfully, as if he were a contestant on
Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.
‘As you point out, I’m new to your planet, but on the data available I’d say I was looking at some kind of rudimentary life form.’
    What!
    â€˜Sorry,’ said Barry Bagsley with exaggerated concern, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’
    What?
    Somehow I think the difference between