of the tunnel was electrifying.
If ever I was tempted to blurt out Mack’s story it was right then. Just imagine how that could’ve added to the excitement. It would have been perfect fuel for our fantasies. But just in the nick of time a warning bell went off reminding me of the last occasion we’d gone down to the drain. It had been raining heavily for days when we got word that the force of water pouring through the drains had blown our manhole cover off, and a six-foot fountain of water was spewing up out of the shaft.
We raced down on our bikes and looked on in awe. We’d previously discussed what we’d do if a surge of water ever came through while we were underground. This involved scampering up the nearest shaft and hanging on tightly until the danger had passed. That storm not only blew water out of the shaft, it blew away our fanciful escape plans. There was no escape. Nothing focuses the mind quite like fear and the memory was so overwhelming there was no space left for Mack’s story. For the first time since I read my essay to Mack, his story took a back seat.
CHAPTER FOUR
Richmond Road School is not the best school in Auckland, although we wouldn’t swap it for any other. It only has one playing field where other schools have two or even three. Every lunchtime three games are played simultaneously on the same patch of ground. Some kids play rugby, some league and some play soccer. Sometimes players from different games crash into each other. The girls have four basketball courts covered in asphalt.
A N EXTRACT FROM ‘M Y S CHOOL ’
Eight of us made it to the easement after school. In addition to the core group of Eric, Maxie, Nigel, Gary and me, there were the two regulars from our scratch soccer games, Ken and Clarry, who’d discovered the top could be levered off the other shaft, and Ryan who was the biggest and strongest kid in our class. Ryan was the same age as Nigel and had been held back because he failed theend-of-year exams. He wasn’t smart but he was tough and we all liked him because he slicked his hair back like Elvis Presley and was the closest any of us came to being a rebel.
Once, when a young and very pretty student teacher took us for art, Ryan became a legend. Told we could paint anything we liked, Ryan unbuttoned and painted his dick then proudly displayed his handiwork to the teacher. She ran screaming from the room. Moments later just about every male teacher in the school came thundering down on Ryan. He copped six of the best and a suspension but reckoned it was worth it. Even Ryan was scared about venturing so far underground, but we covered up our nervousness with exuberance.
The plan was to explore the tunnel in pairs in a sort of relay. Nigel and Maxie claimed the right to go first. The idea was for them to lever the cover off the second shaft and make their way back to Eric and me waiting by the first shaft. We’d then do the run and hand over to Gary and Clarry, who in turn would hand over to Big Ryan and Ken. Eric and I were left to guard the first shaft once the manhole had been prised off, while the others went off to work on the second manhole cover.
After waiting about ten minutes Eric and I became convinced (and secretly relieved) that they’d failed to lift the cover off the second shaft. Eric climbed down into the drain to make sure no one was coming.
‘Can you hear anything?’ I asked. There was no point in asking if he could see anything because the curve inthe drain meant we couldn’t see the light from the second shaft. Without a light source to look at it was hard to tell whether your eyes were open or shut.
‘Not yet,’ said Eric. His voice sounded hollow but also had a deadness to it. The drain seemed to funnel sound away. I was thinking about heading down through the bush to join the others when Eric called out.
‘Hang on. I can hear someone laughing. They’re coming.’
I was glad Eric was down in the drain so he didn’t see my face
If ever I was tempted to blurt out Mack’s story it was right then. Just imagine how that could’ve added to the excitement. It would have been perfect fuel for our fantasies. But just in the nick of time a warning bell went off reminding me of the last occasion we’d gone down to the drain. It had been raining heavily for days when we got word that the force of water pouring through the drains had blown our manhole cover off, and a six-foot fountain of water was spewing up out of the shaft.
We raced down on our bikes and looked on in awe. We’d previously discussed what we’d do if a surge of water ever came through while we were underground. This involved scampering up the nearest shaft and hanging on tightly until the danger had passed. That storm not only blew water out of the shaft, it blew away our fanciful escape plans. There was no escape. Nothing focuses the mind quite like fear and the memory was so overwhelming there was no space left for Mack’s story. For the first time since I read my essay to Mack, his story took a back seat.
CHAPTER FOUR
Richmond Road School is not the best school in Auckland, although we wouldn’t swap it for any other. It only has one playing field where other schools have two or even three. Every lunchtime three games are played simultaneously on the same patch of ground. Some kids play rugby, some league and some play soccer. Sometimes players from different games crash into each other. The girls have four basketball courts covered in asphalt.
A N EXTRACT FROM ‘M Y S CHOOL ’
Eight of us made it to the easement after school. In addition to the core group of Eric, Maxie, Nigel, Gary and me, there were the two regulars from our scratch soccer games, Ken and Clarry, who’d discovered the top could be levered off the other shaft, and Ryan who was the biggest and strongest kid in our class. Ryan was the same age as Nigel and had been held back because he failed theend-of-year exams. He wasn’t smart but he was tough and we all liked him because he slicked his hair back like Elvis Presley and was the closest any of us came to being a rebel.
Once, when a young and very pretty student teacher took us for art, Ryan became a legend. Told we could paint anything we liked, Ryan unbuttoned and painted his dick then proudly displayed his handiwork to the teacher. She ran screaming from the room. Moments later just about every male teacher in the school came thundering down on Ryan. He copped six of the best and a suspension but reckoned it was worth it. Even Ryan was scared about venturing so far underground, but we covered up our nervousness with exuberance.
The plan was to explore the tunnel in pairs in a sort of relay. Nigel and Maxie claimed the right to go first. The idea was for them to lever the cover off the second shaft and make their way back to Eric and me waiting by the first shaft. We’d then do the run and hand over to Gary and Clarry, who in turn would hand over to Big Ryan and Ken. Eric and I were left to guard the first shaft once the manhole had been prised off, while the others went off to work on the second manhole cover.
After waiting about ten minutes Eric and I became convinced (and secretly relieved) that they’d failed to lift the cover off the second shaft. Eric climbed down into the drain to make sure no one was coming.
‘Can you hear anything?’ I asked. There was no point in asking if he could see anything because the curve inthe drain meant we couldn’t see the light from the second shaft. Without a light source to look at it was hard to tell whether your eyes were open or shut.
‘Not yet,’ said Eric. His voice sounded hollow but also had a deadness to it. The drain seemed to funnel sound away. I was thinking about heading down through the bush to join the others when Eric called out.
‘Hang on. I can hear someone laughing. They’re coming.’
I was glad Eric was down in the drain so he didn’t see my face
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