by David Lewman
Chapter 1
Mrs. Gordon walked between the desks of her students, passing back their graded assignments. When she got to Theo’s desk, she paused.
She’d been teaching eighth-grade English at Woodlands Junior High School for sixteen years, and Theo’s assignment was one of the finest pieces of student writing she’d ever seen. It had been a pleasure to read.
“Great job, Theo,” she said, handing him the thick bundle of stapled pages. “You must have worked really hard on this.”
“Thanks,” Theo murmured. He looked at the grade Mrs. Gordon had written on the front page: A+!
Theo sat staring at the paper, looking slightly stunned.
Mark, the student sitting next to Theo, sneaked a glance at Theo’s grade. When he saw the A+, he frowned. Mark had been really proud of the A he’d gotten—until he saw Theo’s A+. Now he just felt envious.
He was about to feel even more envious.
After she’d returned the last graded paper, Mrs. Gordon made her way back to her desk at the front of the class. “I was really pleased with how each of you handled this long-term assignment,” she said. “It’s not easy writing a full-length play, but you did quite well. Very impressive.”
The students smiled, proud of themselves. Mrs. Gordon was notorious for being a tough grader, so it was unusual for her to talk so positively about their homework.
“In fact,” she continued, “you’ve done so well that Miss Farrell and I have a surprise for you.” Miss Farrell was the other eighth-grade English teacher at their Nevada junior high school. She’d assigned her class to write plays too.
Mrs. Gordon smiled. “One of your plays is going to receive a full-scale production right here at Woodlands Junior High. It’ll be this year’s school play!”
The students looked excited. They’d never heard of a play written by a student being chosen as the school play.
Each student secretly wondered and hoped, Did they pick my play?
A girl named Chelsea raised her hand. “Yes, Chelsea?” Mrs. Gordon asked, calling on her.
“Have you and Miss Farrell already picked which play is going to be put on?” Chelsea asked, bouncing her knee and tapping her desk with a pencil.
Mrs. Gordon nodded. “Yes, we have,” she said. “We were in complete agreement.”
She paused, keeping her students in suspense. She wished the whole class would pay such close attention every day.
“Whose is it?” Chelsea asked, unable to bear the tension any longer.
“Theo’s,” Mrs. Gordon announced. “Woodlands Junior High will be putting on Theo’s play, Nobody’s Home.”
Every student’s head turned toward Theo. He looked down at his script, embarrassed by all the attention.
“Way to go, Theo!” said a friendly kid named Sam. “Awesome!” He started applauding, and the others joined in. Except for Mark.
Mrs. Gordon held up her hands to stop their applause and regain their attention. “I’ll be directing the play myself,” she said. “Auditions will be next week, and I encourage all of you to try out. You don’t need to have acted before. I think Theo’s play is going to be a lot of fun!”
The kids in the class whispered and chattered. Everyone was excited by Mrs. Gordon’s surprising announcement.
Except for Theo and Mark. They didn’t look excited at all.
Chapter 2
On a Monday a month later, Hannah, Ben, and Corey were eating lunch at their usual table in the school cafeteria. The three seventh graders had been friends since kindergarten, and they hung out together all the time—in classes, at lunch, and when they met as the only members of Club CSI.
They enjoyed their forensic science class with Miss Hodges so much that a while back they’d decided to form a club dedicated to solving crimes by collecting and analyzing hard evidence. So far their club had already solved five mysteries!
At that moment, Corey was staring at the food on his tray.
“Something wrong with your lunch?” Ben asked.
“There must be,” Hannah teased. “Usually it’d be gone by now.”
Corey shook his head, keeping his eyes on his food. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m just practicing mindfulness.”
Hannah looked puzzled. “What-fulness?”
“Mindfulness,” Corey repeated.
“Does it involve trying to hypnotize a piece of chicken?” Ben wondered.
Corey finally looked up from the tray of food. “Our coach is teaching us mindfulness.”
“Which coach?” Hannah asked. Corey played on a lot of teams.
“Basketball,” Corey answered.
“And what is mindfulness, exactly?” Ben asked. “When you’re full of mind?”
Corey nodded. “Sort of. I think it’s when you’re in the zone, concentrating on what you’re doing, not distracted by anything. Coach says it’s what makes the difference between a good player and a great player.” He grinned. “That, and running laps.”
Hannah was intrigued. That kind of concentration could help her in ballet class. Lately she’d had trouble focusing while she was dancing. She kept getting distracted by Club CSI’s cases.
Though at the moment there was no case.
“How do you practice mindfulness?” she asked.
Corey gestured toward his lunch tray. “You do these different mindfulness exercises. Coach said instead of just inhaling your lunch, which, by the way, I don’t do. . . .”
“If you tried to inhale your lunch, you’d choke,” Ben agreed.
“Right,” Hannah said. “It just seems as though you inhale your lunch.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Corey said, not sure if that was an insult. “Anyway, Coach says you should try being mindful of your lunch. Before you eat it, look at it.”
All three looked at their lunches intently.
“What colors do you see? What shapes? What patterns?” Corey asked.
Ben and Hannah looked down at their trays even more intently. They’d each gone with the turkey sandwich today, while Corey had chosen the grilled chicken and veggies.
“I see a sandwich shape,” Ben said.
“Now smell your lunch,” Corey prompted, taking a big sniff.
“Smells good,” Hannah said. “I think we should eat it. Lunch period doesn’t last forever.”
“Should we listen to our lunches, too?” Ben asked. He leaned down and put his right ear close to his sandwich. “Hello? Anything to say?”
“Yummy, yummy!” Hannah whispered intensely. “Time to eat!”
Corey speared a piece of grilled chicken with his fork. He held it up. “Okay, now go ahead and take a bite, but don’t swallow it. Feel it in your mouth and really taste it.”
All three kids took big bites and then rolled the food around in their mouths, tasting it. Hannah and Ben made funny faces, but they really did taste their bites of food. They noticed each part of their sandwiches—the bread, the lettuce, the turkey, the mustard . . .
Finally, they chewed and swallowed.
“You know,” Ben admitted, “your coach may be on to something here. I noticed the taste of that bite a lot more than the bites I took before it.”
Corey smiled and nodded. “He says you can practice mindfulness while you’re doing almost anything—showering, washing your hands in the sink, and even playing fetch with your dog . . .”
Hannah picked up her carton of milk. “I’m not sure Molly would put up with me staring at a ball for a long time before I threw it. She’d start barking like crazy.”
“Dogs are good at concentrating, though,” Ben said. “I’ve seen Molly stare at a squirrel like there were laser beams coming out of her eyes.”
“Luckily, she j
ust stares,” Hannah said. “I think she’d really like to chase squirrels, but I don’t let her. And I don’t think she’d know what to do with a squirrel if she got one.”
Crash! A boy on the far side of the cafeteria accidentally dropped his tray of food. Lots of kids whooped, laughed, and cheered.
“Even a dog couldn’t concentrate in this cafeteria,” Hannah noted. “It’s so loud and crazy.”
Corey picked up a shiny red apple and then looked at it. “That’s why this is such a good place to practice mindfulness. If you can block out all the noises and movements and chaos here, you’ll be better at doing it on the basketball court.”
Ben looked around. He’d never really noticed how much was going on in the cafeteria before: all the sounds—knives and forks clinking, kids laughing, trays clattering onto the metal rack by the trash cans; all the smells—hot casseroles, warm bread, chocolate milk; and the sights—kids eating at tables, Mrs. Collins serving food behind the counter, posters all over the walls . . .
“What’s with all the posters?” Ben asked, noticing them for the first time. “What are they for?”
Hannah twisted around in her chair to look at the posters Ben was talking about. “Oh,” she said. “Those are for the school play, Nobody’s Home.”
“I heard about that. I didn’t know the name of the play,” said Ben.
“I’m glad you brought it up, though,” Hannah continued. “My friend Kelly’s in it. She’s in my ballet class, but she’s actually had to miss a lot of classes this month because of all the play rehearsals.”
“Sounds intense,” said Ben.
“It is,” Hannah replied. “The cast has been working really hard, and they want lots of people to come see it. I promised her I’d go. I was hoping you guys would come with me on opening night.”
“When’s that?” Corey asked, chewing his apple.
“This Friday,” Hannah said casually. She was expecting resistance to her suggestion. She knew Friday night was when Ben watched one of his favorite shows on the sci-fi channel. And Corey almost always went to some sporting event on Friday nights—either one he was playing in or one he wanted to see.
But she was pleasantly surprised.
“Sounds good,” Ben said.
“I’m in,” Corey added.
“Well, that was easy!” Hannah exclaimed. “So you really want to go see the play?”
Ben nodded. “Absolutely. I heard it was written by an eighth grader right here at our very own Woodlands Junior High. Impressive.”
“That’s right,” Hannah confirmed. “Kelly says this kid named Theo wrote it for his English class, and he had no idea it would end up being performed as the school play.”
“Nobody’s Home,” Corey mused. “What’s it about?” He quickly polished off a granola bar. Apparently, he was done with mindfulness for the moment. “Sports?” he asked hopefully, still chewing. “ ‘Home’ could be home plate.”
“It’s a mystery,” Ben said.
“You mean no one knows what it’s about?” Corey said, puzzled.
“No, I mean the play is a mystery,” Ben repeated.
“So you don’t know,” Corey said.
“Yes, I do!” Ben said, frustrated. “It’s a mystery!”
Hannah came to their aid. “What Ben means is that the play itself tells a mystery story, like a whodunit.”
“Ohhhh,” Corey said, getting it. “Okay. What’s the mystery about? Sports?”
“Kelly told me it’s about five siblings who inherit this mansion after their aunt dies,” Hannah explained. “One of the siblings doesn’t want to share the big house with the others, so he or she tries to scare them away by making it seem like the mansion is haunted.”
“Which is it?” Corey asked.
Hannah was confused. “Which is what?”
“Which is it?” Corey repeated. “He or she?”
“Oh,” Hannah said, understanding. “I don’t know. Everyone working on the play is keeping the ending a secret, so it’ll be a surprise.”
“I’ll bet it’s one of the sisters,” Corey said. “The brothers wouldn’t mind sharing the mansion. They could hang out together and play games.”
“It’s not fair to make that assumption about all girls,” Hannah protested.
Before an argument could break out, Ben pointed to a dark-haired girl across the cafeteria. “Isn’t that your friend Kelly?” he asked. “The one who’s in the play?”
Hannah looked to where Ben was pointing. “Yes!” she said. “That’s Kelly.”
“Isn’t she in eighth grade?” Corey asked.
“Yeah, but we’re in the same ballet class,” Hannah explained. She waved until Kelly noticed. Then Hannah motioned for her to come over to their table. Kelly nodded and started over.
“The members of the cast are selling tickets every day this week at lunch,” Hannah said. “We can buy three for opening night before the show sells out.”
“Is it really going to sell out?” Corey asked, surprised. “Is the school play usually that popular?”
Hannah nodded. “This one is. I’ve heard lots of people talking about it. I think everyone’s curious about a play written by someone here at Woodlands. Maybe it’ll have characters based on kids we know. Or teachers. That could be really funny.”
Kelly arrived at their table. “Hi, Hannah,” she said with a little wave.
“Hi, Kelly,” Hannah said, smiling. “We want to buy three tickets for opening night. These are my friends Ben and Corey.”
Kelly pulled an envelope out of her bag. “Opening night? Maybe you should pick another night.”
“Why?” Hannah asked. “We’re dying to see it.”
Kelly sighed. “Okay, but I just hope we’re ready. Things haven’t exactly been going smoothly.”
“Maybe everyone is just nervous,” said Corey, trying to help. “I almost always get jitters before a big game.”
Kelly gave a little smile. “Maybe,” she said. “But I’ve been dancing for years, and I’m used to being onstage. Lots of the other cast members are into sports or singing or dancing, too, so we’re used to stage fright.”
As Hannah paid for her ticket, she watched Kelly closely. It wasn’t like her to sound so negative. Kelly looked seriously worried about something.
Corey and Ben dug out money from their wallets.
Kelly realized something as she handed tickets to Ben and Corey. “Wait a minute,” she said. “You’re the guys who solved those mysteries with Hannah, aren’t you?”
Corey felt proud, but tried to look modest. “Yep,” he said. “We’re Club CSI. At your service.”
Kelly bit her lip, thinking. “Actually,” she said slowly, “I might be able to use your service. I think I might have a case for you.”
Ben, Corey, and Hannah looked interested. It had been a while since they’d had a case to work on, and they were eager to investigate a new mystery.
“Sure!” Hannah said enthusiastically. “What’s the case?”
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period.
“I’ve gotta run,” Kelly said, looking around. “My next class is way on the other side of the building, and my teacher says if I’m late again, I’ll get detention. Which would be really terrible during our last week of rehearsals.”
“That’s okay,” Hannah said. “Why don’t we meet you after school?”
“I’ve got rehearsal,” Kelly said. “But could you meet me in front of the auditorium right before?”
“We’ll be there,” Corey said, grinning. “Full of mindfulness.”
Chapter 3
After school, Corey, Hannah, and Ben met in the hallway right outside the big double doors leading into the auditorium. As they waited for Kelly, they saw other members of the cast go inside for rehearsal. A couple of them glanced at the three seventh graders, wondering why they were hanging around. The others were too busy staring at their scripts, making sure they remembered their lines. Corey even saw the playwri
ght, Theo, walking into the auditorium. Theo was on the junior varsity basketball team, and Corey was on the varsity team, so they knew each other, but not well.
Finally, Kelly ran down the hallway toward them. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, breathing hard.
“That’s okay,” Hannah said. “So what’s this case?”
Mrs. Gordon opened one of the auditorium doors and looked out into the hallway. “Kelly?” she called. “Let’s go. We’re ready to start rehearsing.”
Kelly looked at the members of Club CSI and then looked back at Mrs. Gordon. “Would it be all right if my three friends watched rehearsal?” she asked.
Ben and Corey looked at Hannah. Was Kelly really expecting them to sit through a whole rehearsal? Hannah wanted to help her friend, so she gave them a look that said Come on, please? Corey sighed, but Ben gave a little nod, and Corey shrugged.
Mrs. Gordon hesitated. “Well, I’d planned on keeping these final rehearsals before opening night strictly closed. I don’t want the play’s surprise ending to be spoiled. The only person not in the play who will be watching today is Theo, and since he wrote the play, he already knows what’s going to happen.”
“You can trust my friends, Mrs. Gordon. This is Club CSI. Besides, we’re only working on the first act today, right?” Kelly asked, not ready to give up yet.
Mrs. Gordon nodded. “That’s true.” She smiled at Ben, Corey, and Hannah. “It’s nice to meet you, Club CSI. I’ve heard a lot about you from your club’s advisor, Miss Hodges. You three are really good at solving mysteries, but don’t try to solve the mystery in the play until you see it on opening night.” Mrs. Gordon winked at them and then turned back to Kelly. “All right, your friends may come in. But I’m going to ask your three guests to sit at the back of the auditorium and to keep as quiet as possible. Remember, even though it’s called a play . . .”
“We’re working,” Kelly finished. Mrs. Gordon had drilled this motto into the actors’ brains at every rehearsal.
“Right!” Mrs. Gordon said. “Now, let’s go!”
They filed into the auditorium. Onstage, the set for the first act was in place. It was a pretty convincing replica of a room in a mansion, with big paintings on the walls, heavy drapes on the tall windows, and a large fireplace.
