Free Spin Cycle by Ilsa Evans

immediate danger of becoming the first person ever to be maimed during a demonstration of librarians. I curl my lip in her general direction ( that should scare her!), clutch my bags tightly to my chest, and scuttle behind the Head of Acquisitions and Cataloguing.
    â€˜Shh! Be quiet!’ Individually, librarians are very good at asking for silence. Collectively, they are definitely a force to be reckoned with.
    The minister bows in gracious acknowledgement of the sudden hush and clears his throat noisily. ‘I have come out here today to ask for patience. I appreciate the fact that you are feeling disgruntled but, believeme, I do understand your grievances.’ (At this point, a few disgruntled disbelievers colourfully voice their concerns regarding the minister’s honesty.) ‘Please! Calm down, calm down … there’s no need for abusive language. I must say I expected a bit more from teachers like yourselves, the educators of our young, the …’
    The crowd stares around in confusion while an excited aide runs up to the minister and whispers rapidly in his ear.
    Suddenly I realise where I have seen the minister’s face before: he was addressing Samantha’s school on one of their speech nights because he’s the Minister for Education!
    â€˜Teachers? Who’s a teacher?’
    â€˜What’s he talking about?’
    â€˜Who’s he calling young?’
    â€˜This joker’s a half-wit.’
    The confused minister is trying to speak again but the noise level of the crowd now makes it impossible for any words to be discernible so he abandons the microphone and, with the aid of the police, begins a strategic retreat. Suddenly the crowd realises what is happening. Pandemonium erupts and everyone goes crazy.
    One minute I am surrounded by unhappy but relatively (apart from Joanne) controlled librarians and the next I am struggling to keep my balance as an enraged mob surges around me, screaming abuse as they struggle to reach the Parliament steps. It is impossible to see what has happened to the minister or whether the cordon of police has held its ground, thewall of bodies is too thick and I am too short. I hold on to my bags tightly and move with the crowd, only because I have no choice. The Head of Acquisitions and Cataloguing has transformed himself into a shrieking maniac with bloodlust shining in his eyes who is hellbent on moving onwards and upwards (much like his attitude towards career progression actually). I trip as we reach the bottom step but am kept upright by the solid press around me. Others are not so lucky and I watch in horror as the elderly audiovisual aide from our Boronia branch goes under, still hurling abuse. All around me, people are screaming and banners are waving.
    Suddenly I am struck on the crown of my head by a heavy placard. I stagger and look up to see the words ‘I DESERVE MORE!’ looming over me. The placard is heaved backwards and there is Joanne staring balefully at me. My lip-curling obviously did not have the required effect. I realise she is preparing to have another go so I try to lunge out of the way, but she follows. Desperately, I grab the placard as it starts to fall again and we struggle for control. The crowd has started to thin around us as the majority surge up the Parliament steps but the noise level is still deafening.
    I can see Joanne’s mouth moving but cannot make out what she is yelling. Somehow I don’t think it’s very nice. My head is thumping. I decide that I’ve had more than enough of this particular maniac, and I’ll teach her not to mess with me. I kick Joanne hard in the kneecap and lurch suddenly sideways, still holding fast and pulling at the placard. Joanne’smouth forms a large circle as she folds up, grasping her knee with both hands and letting go of the placard. Unfortunately she lets go so suddenly that my momentum continues to carry me backwards, the placard flying up