by Gwyneth Rees
‘If it’s Jennifer, Matty had better speak to her straight away, Dad,’ I pointed out. ‘Otherwise she might think he’s deliberately playing it cool.’
‘Yes, well that might not be such a bad thing,’ Dad replied as he left the room.
‘Gee – thanks, Dad!’ my brother exploded.
Lizzie quickly put her hand on his forearm. ‘Matty, all your dad means is that maybe you should play it a bit cooler with Jennifer.’
‘Yeah, well maybe I can’t afford to, OK?’ Matty retorted, and his eyes started to fill with tears. ‘Maybe she just doesn’t like me that much!’
‘Sweetheart, if that’s true then you’re better off without her,’ Lizzie said, giving his arm a squeeze. ‘Believe me, there are lots of other girls out there who’d love to have you as a boyfriend.’
Matthew sniffed and didn’t say anything.
I kept quiet, kind of mesmerized, because seeing Lizzie acting all soft and motherly like that was really nice. Then Dad came back into the room and Lizzie moved her hand away from Matty’s arm. (She’s a bit self-conscious about showing her feelings for us in front of Dad, I’ve noticed.)
‘That was Jake’s mother,’ Dad said, frowning at my brother. ‘She says the two of you skipped school today. She says a friend of hers saw you in a paint shop in town. Is that true?’
My detective’s ears pricked up at that. Could this have something to do with the secret thing that Matty and Jake had been plotting earlier?
Matty looked nervous. ‘We were just hanging out, Dad. We weren’t doing anything wrong.’
‘Oh, so playing truant from school isn’t wrong then?’
‘We only missed PE.’
‘That’s not the point. The point is, when you tell me you’re in school, that’s where I expect you to be.’
‘I know, Dad. I’m sorry.’ Matthew pushed his plate away, looking miserable. ‘Can I leave the table please?’ His food was completely uneaten.
Dad nodded. ‘Go and do your homework. I’ll come and speak to you later.’
And as Matthew limped out of the kitchen, I noticed that the seat of his jeans was torn slightly and that there was something on the material that looked suspiciously like blood.
When I arrived at school the next day there was a big crowd standing at the school gate and straight away I saw that they were all laughing and pointing up at our school sign.
‘Hello, Esmie,’ a voice said as I tried to get near enough to see what everyone was looking at. I turned to see Mrs Stevens, who lives in the house across the road. There was a girl my own age standing beside her. ‘This is my niece, Nevada,’ she said. ‘Nevada, this is Esmie.’
‘Hi,’ the girl mumbled.
‘Hi,’ I said, staring at her. She was wearing a bright green coat that made her stand out in a way I wouldn’t have wanted to if I’d just been starting at a new school. Otherwise she looked quite ordinary. She was a bit smaller than me and slim, with long dark hair and dark eyes, which weren’t looking at me but were fixed, along with everyone else’s, on the school sign.
Under the name of our school, the sign’s red lettering now said:
Head teacher: Mr Thick
Deputy head teacher: Miss Dumb
Someone had done a brilliant job of spray-painting over the end letters and changing the ‘a’ and ‘o’ of Mr Thackery and Miss Dumont’s names. They’d obviously taken a tumble while they were doing it though, because the section of wooden fence beside the gate (which you’d have to stand on to reach the sign) had collapsed and was lying in splintery sections on the ground.
That’s when I noticed my brother and Jake standing further back from everybody else, grinning and whispering to each other. I stared at them. Was it possible that this was the secret thing they’d been plotting? It wasn’t really like Matty to do something this bold – but then he had been in a really strange mood lately. And if they had done this it would explain why they had skipped school yesterday and gone to a paint shop.
The school bell rang and everyone started moving away, including Nevada and her aunt.
As soon as I got to my first class of the day – which was French – I told Holly my suspicions about my brother. I’m allowed to sit next to Holly in French, though in a lot of other classes I’m not, because the teachers reckon the two of us talk too much. Everyone in our class was discussing what had happened to the school sign, and Miss Murphy was late coming to the lesson, so I reckoned all the teachers must be gossiping about the same thing in the staffroom. I just hoped that Matthew and Jake didn’t get caught. Of course I didn’t have any proof that it was them, but I reckoned all the facts were pointing to it.
‘Matthew is so cool,’ Holly whispered to me after I’d told her.
‘Yes, but you mustn’t tell anyone it was him, Holly,’ I whispered back.
‘Of course not! Do you think I’m stupid?’
‘No, it’s just . . .’ I trailed off, not wanting to make her cross with me. It’s just that Holly wants to be a journalist when she grows up – a Gossip Columnist to be precise – and she tends to do a lot of practising whenever she can. Don’t get me wrong – Holly’s a really loyal friend and I know if I specifically tell her to keep quiet about something then she will. It’s just that sometimes I’ve mentioned things that I’ve just assumed she won’t repeat to anyone else and I’ve found out by the end of the day that the whole class knows. And if I get annoyed about it she just says it’s my own fault for not making it clear that what I’d told her was confidential.
We were working in pairs twenty minutes later, taking it in turns to be a French shopkeeper and a customer, when there was a knock on the door and Miss Dumont walked in. There were a few giggles, but Miss Dumont ignored them. She didn’t look any more annoyed than usual – but then her face always looks pretty cross in any case.
Nevada was with her. (In all the fuss about the sign I’d forgotten to tell Holly that I’d already met her at the school gate and that her accent definitely wasn’t American.)
There were a few smiles but no sniggers when Miss Dumont introduced her to the class, though I saw Billy Sanderson grinning at me from the other side of the room, mouthing, ‘Esmerelda.’
Nevada was holding her coat over her arm, and apart from her tie she was wearing what I guessed must be the uniform of her old school. Her skirt and cardigan were grey whereas ours were navy. She was looking nervous as we all stared at her.
Miss Murphy sorted out a seat for her and I saw Miss Dumont glance in my direction as she said something to our French teacher in a low voice, but it wasn’t until later, after the bell had gone and we were all leaving the room to go to the next class, that Miss Murphy called me over to her desk.
‘Esmie, Miss Dumont says that you’ve agreed to look after Nevada until she settles in. Could you wait for a moment while I have a quick word with her? Then you can take her to your next lesson.’
Nevada was looking at me and I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. Luckily I’ve never had to change schools myself – apart from moving up to secondary school with everybody else – but I reckon it must be pretty nerve-racking.
‘Esmie’ll be late for maths if she waits, miss,’ Holly spoke up from the doorway, where she was standing holding my school bag for me.
Miss Murphy obviously felt a bit irritated with Holly’s bossiness, because she said quite briskly, ‘Holly, I’d like you to go and tell your maths teacher that Esmie and Nevada will be following in five minutes.’
‘Yes, but—’ my friend started to argue, but Miss Murphy cut her short.
‘Thank you, Holly.’
And Holly had no choice but to do as she was told.
I knew as soon as I’d spent a few minutes alone with Nevada that she wasn’t as ordinary as I’d first thought. For starters she had a really intense way of looking at you, as if she could tell exactly what you were thinking.
‘Sorry if I’ve got you in trouble with your friend,’ she said as we walked along the
corridor towards our maths class.
‘Don’t be daft,’ I replied, though I knew Holly would be in a bad mood when I met up with her in maths. (She’s a bit possessive in case you haven’t guessed – and she really doesn’t like being left out of things.) ‘I guess we’re neighbours, since my house is just across the road from yours,’ I added.
She nodded. ‘Aunt Ruth told me.’
‘Are you staying here for a while then?’
‘A few months probably. My dad has to travel a lot with his work and he’s had to go to Saudi Arabia. Mum’s gone with him but she thought it was best if Carys and I stayed with our aunt and uncle, so we could go to school here. They might buy a house here after they come back – if Dad doesn’t have to move to the opposite end of the country or something.’
‘Carys is your sister, right?’
She nodded. ‘She’s just said that she wants to quit school and get a job instead. Aunt Ruth and her were arguing about it at breakfast this morning. She’s sixteen, so it’s legal for her to quit school, but my parents want her to stay on and do A levels.’
‘My dad and my big brother are always having massive rows,’ I told her. ‘It’s a real pain, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah – when my dad finds out about Carys, he’s going to hit the roof.’
‘So what does your dad do?’ I asked her. (I always like asking people what their fathers do, because then I get to tell them that mine is a police detective, which I reckon is just about the coolest job there is.)
‘He’s an engineer for an oil company. He gets to travel all over the place and usually we have to go with him. Mum can do her job anywhere, so it doesn’t matter to her. She’s a psychic,’ she added proudly.
‘Really?’ Suddenly, having a detective for a dad didn’t seem quite as exciting as it usually did.
‘Yes, but she doesn’t like me to talk about it too much.’ She lowered her voice. ‘For confidentiality reasons.’
‘Wow!’ I quickly recovered enough to add, ‘That sounds just like my dad. He’s a police detective and he can’t talk about his work for confidentiality reasons either.’
‘Oh . . .’ Nevada sounded surprised, as if she hadn’t expected my dad to have a job that was even the slightest bit as cool as her mum’s. ‘The thing is,’ she continued, ‘I’m going to be a psychic too, when I grow up. That sort of thing runs in families, you see.’
‘That’s just how it is with me,’ I gushed. ‘I want to be a detective like my dad.’
Nevada was looking interested now. ‘You know, I think it would be really cool to be the sort of psychic who helps detectives with their investigations – the kind who helps find missing people and where dead bodies have been hidden and stuff like that.’
‘Wow!’ I gasped. ‘That would be cool!’
Unfortunately we couldn’t continue our conversation because we’d arrived outside our maths classroom. But there was just time for Nevada to ask, ‘Can I walk home from school with you today?’ and for me to nod enthusiastically in reply.
After maths it was break-time, and our teacher wanted to talk to Nevada, so I went with Holly to the canteen, where we’re allowed to hang out if we don’t want to go outside. Holly was bursting with questions, so I told her some of what Nevada had told me – that her mum was a psychic and that she wanted to be one too when she grew up.
Holly started to laugh. ‘You mean her mum’s like one of those gypsies at the fair – the kind who sits and reads a crystal ball if you cross her palm with silver?’
‘She never said she was a gypsy – but even if she is, so what?’ I said hotly.
‘Nothing – but I mean, would you want to have a mum who tells fortunes for a living? I bet she makes them all up!’
‘You don’t know that’s what she does!’ I retorted. ‘Anyway, I think Nevada seems really nice.’
‘Yeah, well you always think everyone is really nice. You thought that about Jennifer too, remember, and look how she’s treated Matthew.’
‘OK, so I did like Jennifer a lot more in the beginning,’ I admitted, ‘but I still don’t think she’s all that terrible. Anyway it’s what Matthew thinks of her that counts, and he’s really upset about them splitting up.’
Holly pulled a face and went off to talk to some other people in our class.
I sat down at one of the tables and started chatting to some girls I’m friendly with in the year above us. They were talking about how one of them had seen our school caretaker remove the school sign and carry it into the building just before break-time. They also seemed to think that no one had a clue who had done it, which I was relieved to hear. I hadn’t seen Matthew or Jake since we’d been at the school gate this morning, and I hoped they were keeping a low profile.
‘Hiya,’ Holly said, coming back to join me. ‘I just spoke to some of the others and they all think that having a mum who’s a psychic is really weird too.’
‘Who’s got a mum who’s a psychic?’ one of our groups asked.
‘The new girl in our class,’ Holly replied. ‘She’s called Nevada.’
‘Nevada?’
‘I know.’ Holly giggled. ‘It’s a seriously wacko name, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe all psychics give their kids weird names,’ somebody joked.
Suddenly I saw that Nevada had found her way to the canteen and was walking towards us.
‘Here she is,’ I hissed. ‘Just shut up, Holly, OK?’
‘Don’t tell me to shut up!’
I quickly jumped up and went to head off Nevada before she could reach our table. ‘Come on,’ I told her. ‘It’s really crowded in here. Let’s go outside.’
I glanced back at Holly, who was looking at me as if I was the one who was doing something wrong. I couldn’t understand why she was behaving like this. She’s been my best friend since infant school and OK, so she’s always been a bit possessive, but it wasn’t as if I was ditching her for Nevada, was it?
As we made for the door, Billy Sanderson came towards us, grinning from ear to ear. He had a teacup in one hand, which he was waving about in front of him. ‘Hey, Nevada, do you think your mum might give me a free tea-leaf reading? I mean, does she read tea leaves as well as crystal balls?’
All the kids nearby started to laugh, and Nevada’s face went bright red. She looked at me accusingly. ‘I should’ve known you’d think it was a joke,’ she said.
‘I didn’t!’ I exclaimed. ‘I mean, I don’t. Look, I didn’t tell everyone, honestly. I just –’
But she had shoved Billy Sanderson’s teacup out of the way and stalked off before I could finish protesting that the only person I had told was Holly, and that she was the one who had told everyone else – not me.
Needless to say Nevada didn’t walk home with me after school, and when I tried to talk to Holly about what had happened she just shrugged and said Nevada was too sensitive.
I couldn’t wait to tell Lizzie about it, because she’s much more understanding than Dad when it comes to this sort of problem. (Dad tends to only listen for about two minutes to any worries I have concerning my friends, then he always interrupts with some completely inappropriate solution that’s way too straightforward and shows that he doesn’t understand how complicated the situation is at all.)
When I got home Dad was there. Apparently some meeting he was meant to be attending had been cancelled at the last minute, and he’d decided to come home early. And he told me that Lizzie wasn’t coming over that night because she had gone to see a friend.
I went upstairs to use the bathroom, and when I came down again, Dad was in the kitchen loading the washing machine and Matthew was sitting at the table eating a cheese sandwich, telling Dad about some science experiment he’d done at school that had gone disastrously wrong.
‘Hi, Matty,’ I said, giving him a knowing look. It was the first chance I’d had to speak to him since leaving the house that morning.
‘Whatevuh,’ he grunted.
Dad was peering closely at a pair o
f Matty’s jeans that he’d been about to put in the washing machine. They were the same ones my brother had been wearing the previous night and Dad had just noticed the tear in the seat of them. ‘How did this happen, Matthew?’ he asked.
‘Dunno,’ my brother grunted, not looking at him.
‘It’s don’t know – and how can you not know?’ Dad inspected the hole more closely. ‘Is this blood?’
Matty was sitting on one butt cheek only, and Dad suddenly seemed to notice that. ‘You couldn’t sit down properly yesterday either. What’s wrong with you?’
‘I’ve got a bruise,’ Matty grunted. ‘I already told you – I fell, that’s all. It’s no big deal.’
‘Yesterday you said it was a graze,’ I pointed out, which made my brother glare at me. (I don’t know why, since I was only trying to help him keep his story straight.)
Dad was looking at the torn jeans again. ‘You fell on what exactly?’
‘Look – quit interrogating me, Dad! You’re not at work now, OK?’ Matty eased himself up off his chair and limped out of the room.
Dad sighed and bundled the jeans into the machine, looking like he was too tired to continue his investigation any further. I wasn’t though, and I was about to follow my brother and find out more, when Dad said, ‘I’ve got something to give you, Esmie.’
He left the washing and led me into the living room, where a large wooden box was sitting on the coffee table. ‘I’ve been having a clear-out. I found your mother’s old jewellery box up in the loft and I thought you might like it. It was given to her when she was your age, I think.’
The box was made of light-coloured wood with little flowers carved on the lid. It had a keyhole but no key. I opened it up. The hinges were pretty stiff.
‘We can put a bit of oil on those if you like,’ Dad said.
There was a tray inside that pulled out. Both the tray and the floor of the box were lined with thin red material that must have once looked quite plush, and both layers were separated into little sections that allowed you to organize your jewellery properly.
