Mindspaces

by Hazel Edwards

  ‘True,’ nodded Mrs. Tasker. ‘But that’s not the only reason. It’s to give everybody a chance to use their minds on the same problem. A kind of mindspace.’

  Mario overheard. ‘I know what mindspaces are. Look at Art. He’s got space under his wool. It’s empty. Ha! Ha! Ha!’ Nobody laughed. They were tired of Mario.

  ‘Know much about farming?’ India changed the subject. ‘Ever heard of space farming?’

  ‘Is that growing things in space? ‘guessed Art. He thought it might have something to do with her aunty’s wind farming.

  ‘No.’ India waved one of her crutches. ‘Space farming is filling up the space on the radio at night. It is selling radio advertisements to fill the late hours of the night.’

  ‘Cool name,’ said Art. But he liked the idea of wind farming better.

  ‘Read about it the other day,’ said India.’ Just thought you’d like to know.’ India’s mind must have been jam-packed with bits of other people’s ideas she’d read. Art liked to think up his own.

  ‘If you need to, have a drink from the taps. Or go to the toilet, quickly,’ suggested Mrs. T. ’Then meet outside.’

  ‘See you in the theatre.’ India hopped towards the Ladies just as a security guard turned the corner. He seemed to be hurrying after the bikie girl who vanished into the Ladies too.

  Chapter 8

  Props

  Lecture theatre 1 was packed now. Down the front, an area was taped off for performers. It looked different with the lights on. Art peered around, trying to work out where Grey Coat had been.

  ‘That’s the stage,’ hissed Rae, pointing.

  Judges sat in the front row, the line of seats behind them left empty.

  ‘Let’s sit here,’ Rae pointed to the second row.

  ‘No. Further back,’ said Art. Judges didn’t want the audience to hear their comments while they were marking.

  A big clock was on the wall. Art noticed the two chairs and a table. His team would use them later. That was allowed.

  ‘Where is the plug for the sound effects?’

  ‘Over there.’

  The three o’clock team was from Grant Street School. They were putting their extension cord together. Art remembered playing basketball against them. They were ace.

  The first judge stood up.

  ‘Welcome to Tournament of Minds. Grant Street School is the next team to present the Detectives, Diamonds and Dastardly Deeds problem. They have ten minutes in which to set up, perform and clear away. Enjoy yourselves. Grant Street, your time starts now.’

  As the welcoming judge sat down, seven players scurried about. Only five were allowed in the taped area at once. A big school sign and the name of the problem had to be shown. It must be read easily from eight metres away. A student pinned up the Grant Street School name. But it fell down!

  Art knew how they felt. A rustle of sympathy went trough the audience. Art looked sideways at Mario. His team was next. ‘We’ve got a better idea for our problem,’ boasted Mario, but he looked a bit worried.

  As Art turned around, he saw the bike girl slip into a seat at the back. What was she doing here? Was she looking for Grey Coat? She seemed to be staring down at India and her crutches.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ said the Grant Street actor.

  Art turned to watch the actors. But he didn’t forget the bikie girl. Grant Street did a funny presentation. Their story was set in a second-hand jeweller’s shop. One of the girls was a ring owner. She was trying to find a missing ring, sold by mistake. It reminded Art of the story his Mum had told.

  Art and India clapped loudly at the end. Art glanced up at the seat where the bikie girl had been. The seat was empty now. Where had she gone?

  ‘Time for Mario’s team. Good luck,’ called India, but Mario was pulling on his ring-master’s costume.

  The chief judge introduced the team. ‘Welcome to Tournament of Minds. The next performance is by Team 2 from mount Street School. ‘ Art watched closely. During the last six weeks, he’d heard and seen only bits of this team’s performance. Their setting was a circus. Sawdust was glued on a rug, which Mario unrolled quickly.

  ‘A sawdust ring,’ admired India as she leaned forward. Her two crutches slipped and banged on the floor. Art picked them up for he. Funny how the left felt heavier than the right. He placed them carefully against the seat.

  ‘Fancy Mario thinking of that.’

  ‘He’s not the only one in that team.’

  Mario’s ring-master spoke in Italian. The judges seemed impressed. The middle one bent over to tick something. Then it was the turn of Team 1.

  ‘Well done, Mario,’ said Mrs. Tasker.’I got tied up with my tongue,’ explained a pleased Mario.’ Had to think in both languages.’

  Art gulped. His breath was a bit wheezy, but he was going to be fine. ’Where’s the cost form?’ He was good at figures. Only reading words mixed him up.

  ‘Here,’ India handed it over. ’We didn’t count my cast or crutches.’

  ‘And the style form?’ Style was worth extra points. Each team chose what it thought it was best at doing.

  ‘We want to be judged on sound effects.’

  A woman walked past. ‘Good luck India.’ She nodded to Art, then the professor sat down to watch them perform. For India’s sake, Art was glad her aunty was there. He always liked it when his parents came to school events.

  They were ready! Art knew the words off by heart.

  One ring to rule them all,

  One ring to find them,

  One ring to bring them all

  And in the darkness, bind them.

  Sound effects and props were Art’s job. Everything had to be on at the right time.

  ‘Wear these.’

  Quickly he pretended to give out the magic rings to the audience.

  ‘Then you’ll be able to understand all the rings in our story.’

  ‘I can’t see the ring!’ a little boy said to his mother.

  ‘Shh. Just imagine it,’ smiled the professor.

  Art was sorry his mum was working. She wanted to come but she couldn’t swap shifts. His dad was still away driving.

  In their ring story, India’s team had used school things, which had happened. There was a school case on the floor. ‘This is ‘The Case of the Mystery Sound” announced India. Art pressed the audio button.

  ‘AAHHHHH.’ The scream noises.

  Then came the phone noise. Ring. Ring. Ring.

  ‘Do I hear a ring?’

  India opened the case and took out a ring. Green stuff was stuck on it to look like emeralds. Then they used the art-room bird.

  In their story, it carried a secret message in a ring on its leg. They didn’t use a real bird, of course. Just a feather duster.

  Plop! Plop! Plop!

  The audience laughed when the feather duster dropped the bird mess.

  Art threw on stage the squashed white bird mess lollies!

  Then Rae was a cat sitting on the phone to make it ring.

  ‘I wonder where that idea came from?’ smiled Mrs. Tasker.

  Art did the best sound effects. He pressed the button.

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  They had pre-recorded all the sounds, in the right order. It had taken ages. All the previous week!

  With her aunty watching, India got nervous. India glanced up at her and jumped form one bit to the next. She forgot some lines.

  ‘Oh, no!’ groaned Art. Until then, he had been enjoying the audience liking them.

  Now the sound effects were out of order!

  ‘India!’ muttered Art as he fast-forwarded.

  Squeals. The sounds were wrong. But the audience didn’t seem to notice. They clapped at the funny bits. They loved the phone switchboard-call centre, which Art had painted. He unrolled the poster qu
ickly at the right time.

  ‘One ring to rule them all…’ That was the queen’s ring. India was the queen but she didn’t curtsy. Her cast got in the way.

  ‘One ring and in the darkness bind them…’

  Art turned off the lights. They used torches to make rings from circles of light. Art flicked the switch again. Then Tiny’s dog leash wound around them.

  The Ringkeeper was the circus master…controlling all the animals. At last it was over.! The team moved everything off the stage very fast.

  ‘Nine minutes, fifty-five seconds!’ Art checked the stopwatch.

  ‘Team! We did it!’

  They were within the time limit!

  The audience clapped loudly. As he looked up at the audience, Art saw Grey Coat slip out through the exit door. What was he doing in the theatre again? Did he meet the bikie girl?

  ‘Now for the spontaneous problem,’ said Mrs. Tasker. ‘Have fun. Unfortunately, when you come out, you can’t tell me what you’ve done.’

  ‘Do we get the same problem as Mario’s team?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What if someone from that team cheats by telling us?’

  ‘That would be foolish. For them and for you.’

  ‘Have we practised enough?’ India was getting nervous again.

  How can you practise for something unknown?’

  ‘Feels like the time Tiny had a nervous breakdown instead of dinner,’ joked India nervously.

  So Mrs. Tasker made them lie down on the grass and do deep breathing exercises. They didn’t want to.

  ‘Other kids will look.’

  ‘It’s not cool.’

  Mrs. Tasker led them behind the tall trees. The grass was green and soft there. She lay down too.

  ‘Just try it once. Breathe slowly. Deeply. Think of something you like.’

  When Art lay down, it felt a bit like his asthma exercises. Rae giggled and fooled around at first. Then she joined in.

  “In…out. Slowly.’ Art thought about mysteries, million dollar sovereigns and a computer virus. He knew these were not what Mrs. T. meant, but he was a sleuth with two mysteries to solve. After a few minutes, Mrs. T looked at her watch. ‘I think they might be ready for you now. Mario’s team will be coming out in a minute.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ India hopped up. ‘Thanks Mrs. T.’

  ‘Don’t forget. Work as a team. It’s not a race. Have fun.’

  Sometimes, like now, Art really liked Mrs. Tasker. He realised she had been trying to stop them getting too nervous. Another good thing was that he’d had an idea. A new way of solving the mystery had slipped intone of his mindspaces. There was something he must ask the professor, very soon.

  Behind the limping India, they filed into the room. In front of them was an old working boot. It had paint splashes and some red, rusty stains.

  ‘Who might have owned this boot?’ started the Judge. All Art could think about was Grey Coat, boots and crutches.

  Chapter 9

  Crutches

  ‘You’ve got more than an hour before the announcement of the winners is made at six o’clock,’ said Mrs. T. ‘Have a wander around or watch the other performers. There’s an interesting maths problem in the tent.’

  Art was determined to solve the mystery of the missing coin. But he needed the help of India and her crutches.

  Sleuth Art was on the job. ‘Listen’

  ‘Something’s rattling,’ India shook her left crutch.

  Art listened. Yes, there was a rattle. There was something inside. He was right. That’s why the bikie girl had been staring!

  ‘Let me have a look.’

  Art turned he crutch upside down. There was a rubber stopper at the bottom. He pulled it off. Inside the crutch was hollow. Art shook it. Something tinkled down the inside. It fell onto the ground.

  ‘A coin!’

  ‘The missing sovereign! A million dollars worth!’

  ‘How did the coin get there? I didn’t put it in!’ India was upset. That was surprising. Most people would be pleased to find a million dollar coin. But India was always different.

  ‘Have you had your crutches with you all the time?’ Art slipped into being the detective again.

  ‘Of course,’ exploded India. ‘How else would I hop around?’

  ‘During the performance?’

  ‘Yes. You saw me.’

  ‘What about when you went to the toilet?’

  India looked up. ‘I left them outside, leaning against the wash basin.’

  ‘Inside the Ladies toilets?’ quizzed Art.

  ‘It wasn’t the Men’s.’

  ‘Was anyone else there?’

  ‘I did hear the hand drier going, but I didn’t see who it was.’

  ‘Ahh.’ Art was working things out. It must have been a female who hid the coin. ’The bikie girl?’

  ‘When hand driers whirr , it’s hard to hear anything else,’ admitted India.

  ‘Now our team’s got a problem.’ Art realized. Mario overheard.

  ‘So what’s new? Today is meant to be problem day.’

  Then Mario saw the coin. He touched it. ‘Wow. That looks like the real thing!’

  ‘It is. We found it.’ Art said.

  ‘Art found it,’ corrected India. ‘I just carried it inside one of my crutches.’

  ‘Is there a reward?’ asked Mario. ‘It’s worth a million.’

  ‘Not sure.’ India turned to Art who interrupted,’ Hey, did you go into the toilet before or after we did our presentation, India?’

  ‘What do you want to know that for?’

  Patiently Art explained.’ If the bikie girl hid the coin in one of your crutches while you were in the toilet…it would still have been there when we performed.’

  ‘So?’ Mario didn’t follow.

  ‘That coin is worth a million. We’re only allowed $50 for props. Our team would have been over the limit.’

  ‘You should have been disqualified!’ shouted Mario.

  ‘Shouldn’t we tell the judges?’

  India looked uncertain. ‘But Mrs. Tasker said crutches were allowable, like glasses .’

  ‘But Mrs. Tasker didn’t know about the coin.’

  ‘I went to the toilet, before.’

  Outside the gallery, the security guard was walking in and out, testing the door alarm. As India hobbled closer, followed by Art, Mario and the other children, he looked suspiciously at them. ‘The gallery is closed.’

  ‘Hi. We’ve got something for you.’ Art held out his hand.

  The gold coin shone in the light.

  ‘Clear off kids. I’m too busy to play games.’ He looked closer.

  ‘Hey, what’s that?’

  ‘The missing sovereign.’

  ‘You’re kidding. No. It’s real!’ In his excitement, the guard grabbed India with both hands. He tried to dance around with her. ‘I’ll keep my job.’

  ‘Hey!’ India fell over again. As the guard stopped dancing and helped pick her up, he asked excitedly,’ Where did you find it?’

  ‘It’s a long story. And I’ve got to ask the professor something about the computer,’ said Art.

  Mario had been busy too. He’d dobbed them in.

  ‘Mrs. Tasker! India’s team has to be disqualified. It was over budget.’

  ‘What do you mean, Mario?’

  Mario told her about the sovereign hidden in one of India’s crutches.

  ‘You’re a bit late, Mario. Art told me that ten minutes ago.’

  For the last hour, Art had been crawling under seats. He’d checked every seat at the back of the lecture theatre 1, until he found it. Chewy! Someone had stuck something under the seat. Then it had been pulled away. Art had a good idea who it had been. And what had been stuck there. That was the seat wh
ere the bikie girl had been.

  Inside the library, it was quiet. It had that ‘Should-you-be-here?’ feeling.

  Blank faces of screens looked out in rows. Constant whirring from the photocopiers.

  ‘Where do we look first?’ whispered Art. The library was a whispery place.

  ‘Over here.’ India was used to libraries. She keyed in ‘Windfarm’.

  There was a computer disk! On the top of the rubbish in the hopper, was a disk wrapped in plastic. Was this the one? Art wobbled on the edge of the hopper. His foot slipped a bit. He crouched. It was too easy to fall in. He didn’t want to come out stinking of squashed banana.

  Now it was six o’clock.

  The lecture theatre was packed. Children, coaches, teachers and parents squeezed inside to hear the TOM results. They all talked very loudly. Some students were still dressed in their TOM costumes. Others had changed into casual and some were back in school uniform.

  ‘Look out!’ called Art.

  Mario tripped over a fake tree prop, which had been left outside.

  ‘Aw! My knee!’

  ‘Want one of my crutches?’ offered India.

  ‘Only if it’s got another sovereign inside.’

  All the children laughed.

  Just then, one of the organisers spoke. ‘Our computer has been playing up. The results will be here in ten minutes. Meanwhile we thought you’d like a story.’

  The storyteller was very funny. The crowd laughed and clapped. Even Mario loved the story of the donkey that flew first class. Then , at last, the results arrived.

  Carrying bundles of paper, the organisers hurried into the theatre. ‘Thank you to everyone who took part. Did you enjoy yourselves?’

  There was an answering roar. ‘YeSSSS.’

  ‘Congratulations to Grant Street. Their team won the computer for their school library.

  ‘The school gets it, not the kids?’ hissed Art. ‘Did you know that?’

  India nodded and clapped for everyone.

  ‘Pity about the computer,’ Art turned to India, her foot propped in the aisle. ‘We could have played some games.’