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.
Chapter 2
TOM Problem
Mars Bar was a dog expert, or so he said. His grandfather raced greyhounds. But Mario couldn’t handle India’s dog Tiny. Tiny was a bitser. He had lots of dog relatives. Some of them must have been BIG.
Hanging onto the dog’s collar, Mars Bar was dragged by Tiny into the General Purpose Room. He tried to use his sneakers as brakes. They didn’t work against the dog’s weight. The dog leash dragged on the ground behind him.
Mario yelled at India.
Hey! Dogs aren’t allowed in the schoolyard. I found yours drinking at the taps. What’s wrong with him?’
‘Hot dog,’ muttered India. ‘Sit down, Tiny. ‘
Tiny’s tongue lolled out of his mouth in a dog smile.
‘He just likes people.’
“To play with or to eat?’
Just then, Mrs. Tasker swept into the General Purpose Room, her arms full of notes, boxes and cardboard sheets.
‘Is this animals yours, India?’
‘Unfortunately.’
India’s dog wasn’t tiny at all. He was a giant.
‘He should be a horse in the presentation, ’panted Mario.’ Someone could ride him. Go on, Art.’
Art shook his head.
‘You’re too scared. Look. Like this.’
Mario tried to scramble onto Tiny’s back. But Tiny objected and ran round and around Mario, wrapping him up with the leash. Everybody laughed.
‘Someone, take him outside,’ ordered Mrs. Tasker.
For a moment, Art wasn’t sure whether she meant the dog or Mario. ‘Okay, I’ll take him,’ he offered.
He unwound Tiny. But Tiny went the other way. The leash was tangled. So was one of India’s crutches. Then Mario stepped forward, tripped on the crutch and fell flat on his nose.
‘AWWWW!’
‘Are you all right Mario? ‘
Then Mrs. Tasker checked his nose. ‘You’ll live, ‘she said.
‘It hurts,’ complained Mario, but everybody was untangling the dog.
‘As coach, I must warn you. No real animals, firearms or naked flames allowed in TOM presentations,’ stated Mrs.Tasker firmly. Mars Bar always made a fuss.
Who is TOM? Art wondered.
‘Tiny won’t be coming on the day. I’ll take him outside now.’ India hobbled on her crutches. ‘Come, Tiny.’
But Tiny ran away. ‘Tiny!’ warned India. But Tiny liked playing .he jumped on Mario.
‘Get off!’ sneezed Mario. ‘I’ve got a cold too. I’m sick. My gran says there’s a virus going around.’
‘Computer virus?’ India was quick. ’My aunty was talking about that. She’s worried a hacker might mess up her experiments on the computer.’
‘No.’ said Mrs. Tasker.’ I think Mario just has a cold.’
Art took a tennis ball out of his pocket. He bounced it so Tiny could see. ‘Come on Tiny. Let’s have a throw. Fetch?’
This time, the dog followed. So Art threw the ball a few times. Tiny fetched it. Then Art tied the dog to the strong part of the fence. ‘Don’t wreck the fence, Tiny,’ he warned. ‘We need it for cricket
