The Five Sneeze Theory

Note

An old man once told me that if you sneezed five times in a row on a rainy day in May, something strange would happen. I never really believed him, but his words remained tucked away somewhere in my memory.

Chapter 1: Monday: Tumi Sneezes Five Times

Yesterday, I was sitting at my desk in the Grade 7 classroom, daydreaming as usual. The teacher, Mr Gray, was rambling on about how we could obtain energy from different non-renewable resources. I sort of knew all the stuff he was saying, so I opted to slump across my desk and look out of the window. The sky was a strange colour, with little rain clouds gathering silently above the bay. I would normally never have noticed this, except for a raindrop that plopped loudly onto the windowsill. It’s going to rain, I thought. Oh no, that would be awful; we would have to stay in the classroom at break time. Please, rain now and stop before 10:00 so that we can go out to play.

So what can one do about conserving this non-renewable resource, Garreth?

At the sound of my name, my brain automatically sent my body a signal to sit up straight and concentrate again.

What had Mr Gray just asked me? What answer was he expecting me to know?

I made a ‘thinking face’ to indicate that I was serious about finding the correct answer. To look like a serious student is quite easy actually; I just tilt my head, frown a little, and tap the back of my pen against my lips.

Yes, it’s a tough one, Garreth. Man has been asking the same question ever since our coal supplies started running out, and do you know what they have come up with?

This was a rhetorical question. Mr Gray never really wanted us to respond to him in these situations. It was the technique he used when he was teaching us new things. I think he liked the sound of his own voice. I also think he would have liked to be an actor, so he used the classroom as his personal stage and the students as his captive audience.

I’ll tell you what they have discovered, he continued as I slumped down again and looked out of the window at the pouring rain.

Just then Tumi, the quietest girl in our class, sneezed.

A little puff of a sneeze, hardly audible, possibly only measuring fifteen decibels, but for some reason I heard it.

Bless you! whispered Shannon.

Before Tumi had a chance to thank Shannon another little puff of a sneeze escaped from her body, then another and another. I counted four, and suddenly the old man’s words came back to me. Excitement washed over me as I sat up straight and waited…Tumi sneezed again…I waited…nothing. Five sneezes, I was sure of this.

Five sneezes. Now what? I waited for something to happen like the old man had promised.

All that happened was the rain kept falling and Mr Gray continued in his monotonous drone.

I looked at the wall clock.

09:50 – we were going to be trapped inside today for break. The rain poured down the windowpanes in a waterfall. Noisy rain, which made it difficult to hear what Mr Gray was saying, although that wasn’t really a problem because I hadn’t been listening anyway.

09:54 – only six more minutes until break. 09:56 – still it rained.

09:57 – water continued to pour down the windows, now heavier than ever.

09:58 – Well, Grade 7, I suppose this means we will have to remain indoors for break.

09:59 – sighing, I took out my lunch box and peered inside. A dry bran muffin, some nuts, a furry yellow peach, and a juice – I wish my mum was like other mothers, who packed unhealthy packets of crisps, or leftover slabs of macaroni cheese from last night’s dinner.

10:00 – How strange, the rain has stopped! Mr Gray frowned in disbelief.

Before he had time to give one more instruction we erupted from the classroom, charging out onto the wet playground and yelling, the way young boys yell when they feel free.

I found Shannon and Tumi sitting on a wall, talking. I asked Shannon how many times Tumi had sneezed.

How should I know, Garreth, I wasn’t exactly counting you know! she snapped at me.

I ignored her moodiness and asked Tumi the same question.

Oh get a life, Garreth! Can’t you see we’re having a private conversation here?

I had a life. What exactly did a person mean when they said this, I wondered.

But something was up, I was sure of this. Tumi had sneezed five times.

It was strange that as the clock struck 10:00 the heavy rain had stopped, just like that. Impossible! How could that happen yet no one else noticed? I was going to find out…and so my search for the truth began…

Every person I asked thought I was nuts. Why would I want to count Tumi’s sneezes? Was I losing my mind?

The most common reply I got to my question was, Whatever, dork! Not exactly the type of answer that makes a young boy feel confident. Eventually I confided my secret suspicion to Anthea. Anthea is a girl in my class who finds everything fascinating. Her father is a scientist, so I suppose she has grown up understanding the importance of finding things out. She can speak fluent Greek, and has a little lime green journal with a pen attached to it on a pink plastic chain. Perhaps she had also noticed Tumi sneezing and written it down.

Anthea hadn’t written down Tumi’s sneezing, but she had noticed the strangeness of the rain stopping just as break started, so she was interested when I told her about the old man’s theory.

Five sneezes and expect something strange to happen, she mused. Mmm, let’s keep a record of this, Garreth. Maybe other strange things will happen that normally don’t on a Monday.

And so our adventure, if you can call the next few hours an adventure, began.

Chapter 2: Fibula-Boy

So, did you find out how many times Tumi sneezed, dork-face?

I shrugged and ignored Paul’s comment. He could be quite mean when he was showing off, even though he was my friend and I liked him most of the time.

You wouldn’t let him call you that, Garreth, if you knew what it meant, said Anthea.

I nodded, pretending that I understood what she was talking about and told myself that the next time I had nothing to do I would look it up in my dictionary, but I knew I’d never get around to doing that. My dictionary had taken up permanent residence at the bottom of my school bag; I hadn’t used it since Grade 6 and probably wouldn’t see it again until Grade 10.

We led off into class. Anthea was a strange girl, I thought. Not quite a geek, because she was popular, and made us laugh, but she could be a bore when she worked; always getting things perfectly correct. Teachers loved her, and her projects looked so professional that it made the rest of us not want to hang ours on the wall next to hers. All the same, I liked her and was pleased she believed the five-sneeze theory.

I looked at the wall clock – 10:33. For some reason time seemed to be an important factor in proving the five-sneeze theory. The ‘five-sneeze theory’, I liked that, it sounded important. I whispered to Anthea that she should record the time if something strange happened. She nodded, understanding the scientific value in this and put her little lime green book with the pink plastic chain and pen attached to it out on her desk.

Mrs Nathoo entered, fussed about in her basket, and pulled out a long thin bone. Mrs Nathoo had a way of capturing my attention. She hardly ever spoke for too long and always had something interesting hidden away in her basket. I liked her. She was a real teacher.

What type of bone is this? she enquired in her lilting, gentle voice.

We responded immediately, hands high up in the air. Some hyperactive kids clicked their fingers – as if that would get Mrs Nathoo to notice them first! She smiled and carefully made eye contact with every member of the class. Her pretty hazel eyes rested on Paul, who guessed that it was a pterodactyl bone.

Try again. Anyone? Mrs Nathoo smiled, holding up the bone.

A shy voice said, It’s a fibula, I think.

Well done, Busi! praised our pretty teacher. Have you ever seen a human fibula before?

Umm no, I haven’t, but I think that one belongs to the missing boy, Sam.

The whole class sat up straight. Anthea caught my eye. This felt intriguing. What missing boy? What was Busi talking about? Why did he have such an odd expression on his face?

Mrs Nathoo walked over to Busi’s desk and asked in a hushed tone, Busi, what are you saying?

Umm, I don’t really know, Mrs Nathoo, the answer just popped into my head. I just sort of know it belongs to that boy who went missing about three years ago. Remember? It was all over the news. He lived in this area. Remember? urged Busi, now looking decidedly confused and frightened. Anthea began to write quickly in her little green book. She whispered the letters ‘ESP’ to me. ESP – what was that? Before I could ask her the whole class began to talk excitedly. Everyone seemed keen to offer their own version of the story. Facts became muddled, urban legends became truths, and Tumi thought Busi was right because, like Busi, she also remembered the missing boy’s name – ‘Sam Aberfeldy'.

Mrs Nathoo looked very upset. She put the fibula back into her basket and said that the bone was from the Medical School. Her husband was a lecturer of anatomy and had brought it home for her to show us. All she wanted to do was to teach us the skeleton, not get involved in some sinister plot about a missing boy. She asked us to settle down and open our books, then she handed out a diagram of the skeleton that we had to label. I discovered that the fibula was the thinnest of the leg bones, and was situated at the back of the leg between the knee and the ankle, next to the shinbone, which was called the tibia. The lesson went on until 11:20, and before our next lesson Anthea came over to my desk and whispered that this was something odd.

First the rain and now this. Something strange is brewing, Garreth. I just know it.

What is ESP? I asked her.

Extra Sensory Perception. It’s when someone knows something that they can’t explain, like being psychic, Anthea explained.

A creepy feeling flowed down my neck and shoulders. I shivered and looked at Busi.

Let’s ask him at second break, I whispered.

Chapter 3: Busi

Mr Johnston came in for Listening Skills. I could hardly concentrate on the CD that he was playing and got most of my answers wrong. I kept looking at the clock. Break was at 12:10. The lesson dragged on and on. It was the longest half hour I had ever spent in a classroom.

At break Anthea and I went over to Busi. He was still looking confused and upset. He told us what had happened during Mrs Nathoo’s lesson.

It was weird. Just as Mrs Nathoo lifted that bone out of her basket the name Sam popped into my head. I swear I didn’t even know I knew the name until I saw that bone. And there’s more. I think I know what happened to him. I sort of even know where he disappeared. This is scaring me, Garreth. What’s wrong with me?

I just stood there, I didn’t know what to answer, but Anthea, in her usual way, seemed to know exactly what was up.

Nothing’s wrong with you, Busi, you have just tapped into your ESP, you lucky thing. My father and I have been trying to do that for years now.

My what?

It’s your ability to just know things that you cannot see or prove yet, Anthea explained. Now, Busi, you have to tell us everything you saw in your mind. Speak slowly and clearly, I need to record this accurately.

Busi spoke very slowly and clearly and Anthea wrote everything down in her little green book. I stood there amazed at the story that was unfolding. It was quite unbelievable. Could this be true? Could Busi really have seen these things in a fibula?

The bell interrupted us and we had to go back to class for our drama lesson.

Let’s meet at the bench after school, suggested Anthea. I’m staying for homework club today.

I hoped Busi would agree.

Okay, he replied. Busi and I always stayed for homework until the end of the day anyway.

Drama, as always, was a load of fun. Our teacher is called Peta. She is actually a woman with a man’s name, but it’s spelled differently. For the next hour I almost forgot about Busi and fibula-boy. I loved drama. I loved making a noise and moving and laughing. Peta must have the best job at school. Kids love her and her lessons are always fun. I wonder who invented the subject. I must remember to ask Anthea, I’m sure she’ll know the answer.

We packed our cases, greeted Peta, and with that Monday was over. Now there were only four more days until the weekend, and the best part was that we didn’t have any homework. The rain and the fibula seemed to have distracted our teachers enough to forget about giving us homework. All I had to do was learn a poem for Friday, and I could do that on Thursday night anyway.

Busi, Anthea and I met at the bench. Anthea had her book out ready to read us everything she had recorded today. We sat quietly and listened to her. Today had been a strange day at school, but it didn’t prove the five-sneeze theory yet.

We have to bunk aftercare and go to the place where Busi’s ESP saw Sam Aberfeldy, said Anthea.

Are you crazy? We don’t even know how to get there!

I know how to, said Busi quietly. It’s an easy walk across the clearing to the bay. We can get to it from the back of the school. Let’s go now. The aftercare teachers will never miss us. All we have to do is hide our cases behind the tuck shop.

Chapter 4: The Soccer Field Fence

I must admit that I knew I was doing something that could get me into serious trouble, both at school and with my mum at home. Leaving the school grounds without permission is not something I recommend.

Busi, Anthea and I hid our school cases behind the tuck shop just as we had planned and quickly made our way across the soccer field.

Best we walk through the bushes around the side, in case someone sees us crossing the field, advised Anthea.

When we reached the wire fence that marked the boundary of the school grounds, Busi looked around carefully, scanning the place for signs of a teacher.

The coast is clear. Let’s go!

Anthea climbed over first. She was really impressive for a girl, easily scaling the high fence without getting stuck or hurt. Busi followed. As I jumped down to the other side and was dusting the dirt off my pants we heard a familiar voice.

"And where do you