Armageddon

He’s lived at 24 Smith Street for six months now. Spring had abandoned the sleepy town, leaving the stillness of summer, and now summer is heavy with its last breaths. Jack greets the beginning of the new term with the zest of someone excited for it to be over. The gates are still there in painful twists and the austere demountables remained slouched amongst the dirt and sand. Girls twirl in their floozy skirts, flashing their brown legs. Their colourful bras can be seen beneath their white uniforms. Luke Broadwater had become a vegie over the holidays and the school wept like the stolen generation.
During the first week they’re ambushed. The principal stood in front of them like a sergeant.
This is what you’ve worked so hard for, he barked. The HSC is upon us!
It was hard not to picture him in Khaki. You’d think it was Armageddon.