Читать книгу Mindspaces - Hazel Edwards - Страница 5

Chapter 1

Fell off a camel, backwards!

‘Where are you, Art? I’ve got a problem.’

India was on crutches. She hopped into the classroom. Art was cleaning the mouse house. This week, he was mouse-minder. It was lunchtime. The other children were outside playing.’

’Yes, I can see.’ The plaster cast on her left leg was a bit hard to miss.

‘Not that problem!’ India stopped on one leg, beside the desk. She brought her crutches together and rested them against the desk.

‘What happened?’ Art liked details. When you’re a part-time spy, you need to listen a lot.

‘Fell off a camel, backwards.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Art laughed. Not another tall story. Usually he, not India made them up.

‘We went to the fete. Dad made me go on this little kids’ merry-go-round because he loves riding. I picked the camel. Then I fell off, backwards. My leg got caught under the came’s neck. It broke.’

‘The camel’s neck? ‘ asked Art.

‘No! My leg.’

‘Does it hurt? Your leg I mean.’

‘Not now. Just itches. But I heard the crack when it happened.’

‘Unreal,’ said Art. ‘What’s your other problem?’

Clumsily, India moved on her crutches. Art caught one as it fell. Luckily Mino the Mouse clung to his other arm and didn’t fall off.

‘Thanks. I need something for our mystery. I need a ring.’

‘Why? What mystery?’ Carefully Art rested the crutch on the desk. It was lighter than he imagined. Perhaps it was hollow.

‘For the missing ring. We’re doing the Detectives, Diamonds and Dastardly Deeds problem.

‘What sort of problem’s that?’ Art stroked Mino’s grey fur.

‘Tell you later.’

Being a part-time spy, Art was interested in the word ‘detective’. Just a bit. And in problems. He liked solving what went wrong.

‘I’ll see what I can find. Any kind of ring?’ Art put Mino back in the clean mouse-house.

‘An unusual one.’ India opened her sandwiches.

‘Be back soon,’ Art dashed off. ‘Have to go home for lunch because Mum’s there.’ Luckily Art lived around the corner from the school. His mum worked shifts. When she was home, they had lunch together. His dad was away driving his truck interstate.

‘Will this do?’

Carefully Art laid out the rings he had found. First was the alarm clock. He’d borrowed it from Dad’s shed. He wound it up. ‘RRRRRR…rrrr…’

‘See. It rings.’

‘I can hear it. What else?’

Art showed her his ring finger. ‘You could have a wedding ring. But Mum wouldn’t let me have hers.’

‘I don’t want a wedding ring,’ said India.

‘I wasn’t going to give you one,’ said Art. ‘But there’s a ring top from a Coke can. Then there’s a netball ring. And a mobile ring to access games. But I couldn’t bring that either. ‘ Art loved computer games. He knew all the ones the school owned. And a few others too.

‘That’s a good start.’ India reached for her crutches. ‘D’you want to join our team, Art? You’re good at working things out. And it’s a sort of competition. Since Jo left, we’re one short.’

‘What sort of competition? Art was a competition freak. As long as there wasn’t much reading, he entered. He loved being different people and using different names. Sometimes he forgot who he was.

Clumsily, India pulled a booklet out of her desk. It was hard to balance when your leg was out of action. ‘Listen to this. I’ll read it to you. The problem is to solve the mystery of the strange inscription. It was found on the wall of a famous writer’s tomb.’ India looked at Art. ‘An inscription is words written on stone or wood or something. And a tomb is where dead people are kept.’

‘I know that. Go on.’

India didn’t believe him, but she kept reading anyway.

‘The inscription appeared prior…that means before…’

‘Go on!’

‘... to the reading of the writer’s will. On the same day, an emerald and diamond ring was stolen from the writer’s house.’

‘Who did the ring belong to?’ Art twisted the ring top from the Coke can around his little finger.

‘I don’t know. It doesn’t say. You can make that bit up,’ said India. ‘It’s meant to be a sort of play.’

‘Sounds hard. ’Art didn’t understand all those words. ‘But I might give it a go. What’s the prize?’

‘A computer.’

‘Really.’ Art imagined all the game he could play.

‘The team gets it.’

How many in the team?’

‘Seven’

‘One day each to play.’ There was nothing wrong with Art’s maths. ‘Okay.’

‘Meet you in the General Purpose Room after school.’

India didn’t say the computer was given to the school. Art would find that out soon enough.

‘Give me a ring,’ said his mum as Art raced out the door, carrying his sleeping bag.

‘What sort?’ he called back over his shoulder. His mind was full of diamonds, detectives and dastardly deeds problem.

‘A ring. A call at work. So I’ll know what time you’re coming home. If I’m not here, leave a message on the answer phone.’

Art smiled. ‘Okay Mum. Thanks a lot.’

Sometimes mums were useful.