House of Anubis: Sibuna Descending

9. Sneaky Business

The sun shone through the windows, spreading warmth throughout the science lab as the students took their seats at the octagonal tables. Mr Sweet sat at his desk, waiting for all the students to be seated before he started the lesson.

"Good morning, class," he began, getting up and walking slowly to the front of the class. "We'll be continuing from the topic we began studying at the end of Tuesday's lesson: the heart."

As Mr Sweet pointed at the different illustrations of the cardiac cycle on his whiteboard, Ian lost focus. He lost the the necklace on Monday, and it was Thursday. Three days of searching yielded nothing. Maybe there was no hope for him. Maybe the necklace was just gone, and nothing could change that.

"And then, the blood flows through the aorta to travel to the rest of the body," Mr Sweet reminded them before placing the whiteboard marker down at the bottom of the board and walking in front of his desk to face the class, pompously holding on to the upper hem of his dark blazer. "Now, I'd like you to pair up and attempt to recall the events of the cycle to each other. Oh, without looking at the board!" Mr Sweet rushed back to the board, snatched up the eraser and slashed it across the board. Left, right, left, right, until not one bit of marker remained.

"Quick, try and see how much we can remember!" Ian had told his table, and he, Adil, PJ and Summer had craned their necks to view what was left on the board in front of Mr Sweet before he had wiped it all off.

"Haha," Summer laughed. "All I got was 'body'".

Ian had to pair up with Summer as Adil and PJ had already started, though they were having trouble remembering the names of structures in the first event.

"Dude, it was posterior," PJ said confidently.

"It's inferior," Adil tried to correct him. "Why would it be superior and posterior vena cavae? That makes no sense. It's superior and inferior."

"Yeah, PJ," Cassie joined Adil from the table on the right. "How would that make sense?"

"Cassie, I don't even know you," PJ remarked.

"Settle down at the back," Mr Sweet commanded. Erin got Cassie to focus on the task at hand, whilst Dexter and Raymond were already deep into the middle stages.

"Haha, no," Ian laughed off Summer's mistake. "It's the tricuspid valve that's on the right side of the heart...or at least I think it is."

"Oh," Summer laughed, too. "Whoops. I don't get the difference between the tricuspid and bicuspid valves, though. Do you?"

"Nah," Ian honestly answered, causing them both to laugh together.

"Well," Erin started, having overheard them from a close table, "the tricuspid valve—" Right after Erin said the first three words of her explanation, PJ made loud snoring noises, causing Erin to feel embarrassed.

"Major nerd alert," PJ sniggered.

"Hey," Cassie snapped. "This nerd happens to be my friend."

"Don't be so rude, PJ," Amaya told him from the table in front of Mr Sweet's desk. PJ shrugged in response and fell quiet, leaning back in his chair in relaxation.

When the bell rang, Mr Sweet quickly handed out a double-sided sheet of homework for the class to complete by next lesson. It was meant to be done as another exercise in class, but the other tasks took up too much time of the lesson. Mr Sweet called, "Don't forget!" after them as they piled out of the door.

Ian and Summer walked out of the room behind Dexter, Erin and Cassie. It was now lunchtime, and the hallway was beginning to flood with students exiting their classrooms.

"Lunchtime," Cassie stated. "We can check the crypt, now."

"Yeah, ok," Dexter said. "It's good we waited till today when some of the teachers will be in the drama theatre. Come on, I know the way." And with that, the three of them hurried away. Ian looked on in frustration; though it was utterly nosy of him to be constantly paying attention to their conversations— and he was aware of this — there was something odd about those three. A normal group of friends would not be so huddled together, even if they barely knew anyone else.

"Have you noticed that those three talk...secretively? A lot?" Ian questioned Summer.

"You bet," Summer replied. "Last night, when I walked into our room, Cassie and Erin completely stopped talking and then continued quietly when I tucked myself in. A bit unnerving, if I'm being honest."

"And what did Cassie just say? Something about a crypt?"

"A crypt? As in...an underground grave?"

"Exactly," Ian said. "I mean, I didn't really know what is was, but now I definitely do. I heard them mention it on Monday, I think."

A few seconds of silence followed. Both people were evidently deep in thought — both had noticed the weird behaviour of their fellow housemates, but Summer put her thoughts aside for the time being: "Anyway, I'm going to the cafeteria to eat. You coming?"

"I need to get to the theatre," Ian told her. "They're announcing who made it onto the football team."

"Oh, good luck!" Summer wished him, holding her thumbs up. Ian thanked her, and they parted ways. When Ian got to the entrance, but he stopped for a moment. He crossed his fingers and then walked in. A mass of students was already standing before the stage, with some seated on the chairs towards the back of the room near a display case holding an award shield. Ian joined Adil and PJ at the front, having to slip past and lightly nudge others to get there.

"When's it gonna start?" Ian asked Adil.

"Should be now," Adil said. "Everyone pretty much just got here." Next, Miss Robinson walked up onto the stage. PJ, clapping his hands and whistling as Miss Robinson held a small sheet of paper, started a round of applause from the rest of the students. Other teachers lined the walls of the theatre.

"Thank you," Miss Robinson said. "Now, this assembly won't be very long. I'll be announcing who made it onto the team, and then explain what sessions will be like and give details about gear. Right," she began, holding the paper up for her to read. "In no particular order, those who made it are: Jack Alton —" a short boy, no doubt Jack, punched the air as a friend of his clapped him on the back — "Peter Wentworth, Adil Jameel..."

Miss Robinson continued down the list, and the further she got to the bottom, the wearier Ian felt. Was he good enough? Surely he was. Seven names were down...then eight. The ninth name, to Ian's relief, came: "Ian Driscoll".