Mindspaces

by Hazel Edwards

  Something dropped onto India’s TOM folder. A white patch with black bits in it. ‘Like an exclamation mark!’ said India crossly as she tried to wipe it off. The mark just smeared.

  The Bird Problem needed to be solved! And Art was determined to solve it. What could he use? In the lost property box was a brown hand towel.

  Carefully, Art crawled along the bench, holding the towel. He threw it. And missed!

  ‘Leave it alone!’ Mario was looking upwards. The bird dropped again. On Mar Bar’s nose this time.

  ‘Yuk!’ He wiped his nose and said something rude. And changed his mind about leaving the bird alone. ‘Open the windows! Leave the door open. Then it will fly out by itself.’

  But the bird didn’t know what it was expected to do. Mario was good at telling people what to do. And so was India. But Art just got on with solving the problem. He crept along, holding the towel. A row of white spots like bird measles dropped on grade 4’s artwork drying on the bench.

  Art moved quietly towards the bird. He threw the towel again. This time, the towel began to fly.

  ‘A brown ghost,’ laughed India. ‘Or the flying towel.’

  ‘Dumb bird!’ said Mario.

  Slowly the towel fell to the ground. Art was ready. With both arms, he gently closed around the towel. ‘Got it!’

  ‘Get out of the way Mario,’ ordered India.

  Gently Art unwrapped the towel and the bird flew for the trees. Then Art groped for his puffer. His chest felt tight from all the bird business running around. But he had solved the problem. Sometimes his asthma was a nuisance. He breathed deeply. Then he put away his puffer just as India called ‘Mars!’

  Mario turned and looked back at her.

  ‘Did you sit on something?’

  On the back of Mario’s jeans were white marks. Art looked closely. Then whacked Mario’s bottom so the dust flew out. ‘Chalk dust! You sat on the duster. Nothing worse.’

  ‘Get lost Art,’ Mario pushed his hands into his jeans pockets.

  ‘Art’s a good problem solver.’ India stuck her nose in the air. ‘He’s going to find a way for me to take part even if I’m still on crutches for Tournament Day.’

  You won’t be in it,’ said Mario. ‘We’ve got the best team. Art couldn’t even read the instructions.’

  ‘I bet you Art is the best problem solver around. ‘ As India protested, Art felt awful inside. India had stuck up for him. How could he opt out now?

  Chapter 4

  Rings!

  TOM rehearsals were after school in the General Purpose Room.

  ‘Be there,’ said India ticking things off on her list. India was a list-o-maniac. She loved collecting and listing things and people. Art still wasn’t keen on joining India’s tournament list.

  ‘It’s not about who wins the computer,’ said Mrs. Tasker. ‘Tournament of Minds is about solving problems. And taking six weeks to work out answers as a group. Performing on the day is just part of it.’

  ‘Do we have to read a script?’

  ‘Probably.’

  Art still hoped that what he had discovered might save him from going in the team.

  Mario was signing India’s cast, in Italian.

  ‘Are you sure it says “Get well’ ‘. India was suspicious.

  ‘Can’t you tell?’

  ‘Not from that writing.’

  ‘Neither can anyone else.’ Art peered at the squiggles.

  ‘Now. Are you joining us, Art? Jo’s not sure if he’s coming back. Anyway, he’s got basketball practice. Getting this cast is a problem. ‘

  Overhearing ‘cast’ , Mario got mixed up.

  ‘I bet your cast cost too much, India,’ he said triumphantly. ‘If it’s over fifty dollars, you can’t use it as a prop. You’ll muck up the team’s budget. So you can’t take part against my team.’

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘The rules. And you’ve got the cost of the crutches too.’

  ‘Oh.’ That was a shock. India had forgotten about the crutches. But this was the moment, Art had been waiting for.

  ‘I found out about your cast,’ said Art. ‘The chemist told me. About $130 if you count the doctor’s fee.’

  ‘Too much,’ interrupted Mario.

  ‘But the actual plaster only costs fifteen,’ said Art quickly

  ‘Fifteen from fifty leaves thirty five. We could borrow all the other props,’ said India.

  ‘If the cast is part of your body, it shouldn’t count,’ argued Art.

  ‘I agree,’ said Mrs. Tasker. ‘You’re allowed to use parts of your body. India’s cast is part of her body at the moment. So that doesn’t count in the budget.’

  ‘What about crutches?’ Mario was suspicious.

  ‘Allowable,’ ruled Mrs. Tasker. “Like watches or glasses or an artificial eye.’

  ‘Heart transplant?’ Mario wasn’t giving up easily.

  Mrs. Tasker nodded.

  ‘Okay. Let’s start.’ India was relieved.

  Mrs. Tasker looked closely at Mario’s handwriting on India’s cast. ‘Perhaps you should change this, Mario. I taught in Italy for a year. My husband used to work there. I can read Italian.’

  Mario blushed.

  You don’t need me then?’ Art said quickly. ‘Not if India’s in the team?’

  ‘Yes we do.’ India was firm. ‘Jo’s gone. That leaves six with me. And we need your ideas.’

  ‘Be an understudy. In case someone breaks their neck,’ Rae suggested.

  Art hadn’t asked the chemist the cost of neck braces.

  India said:’ Read the problem…er…I’ll tell you. About the missing emerald and diamond ring.

  One ring to rule them all,

  One ring to find them,

  One ring to bring them all,

  And in the darkness bind them.

  We have to act out something that will explain all these.’

  ‘How do emeralds and diamonds ring?’’ Art was puzzled.

  ‘I mean the sort of ring you wear.’

  ‘Do they mean that? ‘ asked Art. ‘The TOM judges?’

  ‘Oh, forget it!’ said Mario.

  ‘No.’ Mrs. Tasker put her hand on Art’s shoulder. ‘Try out any ideas you like. That’s what Tournament is about: Thinking sideways. Using mindspace.’

  Art remembered what his mum had said to him. ‘A ring! The mobile is a different kind of ring.’

  ‘ You’re right,’ admitted India. ‘Perhaps we can do something with a phone ring?’

  Art remembered the bird in the art room. ’What about a ring on a bird’s leg? To carry messages? ‘Suddenly Art was enjoying himself .As long as he didn’t have to read, he liked playing with ideas.

  ‘Ace idea, Art.’ India read from the booklet. ‘We need a truck driver, a ghost, a detective and a character of the ring. They have to act in the performance.’

  ‘A ringmaster,’ suggested Art who was picturing shows and circuses.’ A ringmaster looks after the animals in the circus ring. ‘

  ‘A girl ringmaster,’ suggested India quickly. ‘Who stands in the middle, without moving her leg.’

  Later, the two teams went out for a pizza, Mrs. Tasker’s shout.

  ‘Thanks Mrs. T.’

  ‘Coach,’ she corrected.

  ‘By the way Mars Bar,’ India pointed to the writing on her cast. ‘I looked this up in the Italian-English dictionary online.’

  Art looked at Mario whose face was like tomato-sauce.

  ‘I fixed up the spelling,’ smiled India. ‘You did mean to say “get well” didn’t you?’

  Mario just mumbled something.

  Art thought he just might hang around. The pizza was okay. Thick with gooey cheese. It smelt spicy, and Art ate five slices. Another good thing was that Mrs.Tasker let him stop the ni
ght at her place. It was an emergency. His dad was away driving interstate and his mum was on night shift. Mrs. Next-Door had to go to hospital. Staying at Mrs. Taker’s gave him another great idea to use later in the tournament.

  Art woke up with a start. There was a click. Then a whirring sound.

  ‘Why are you calling me?’ boomed a voice.

  Art sat up. He looked into the dark. There was no-one in the room. Then something moved, near the desk.

  ‘Miaow.’

  The cat couldn’t talk. Where was the voice coming from? Art looked at his watch.

  3.35 am. Was it a burglar? Or a ghost? Or was it someone playing a joke?Art pushed back his sleeping bag. He put his feet on the carpet. Spooky. But he had to have a look. Spies always investigated. He padded across the carpet. Mrs. Taker’s spare room was crowded with bookshelves. Under the window was a desk. He could just see the outline. The voice seemed to be coming from the window. He moved closer. The voice boomed again.

  ‘Why are you calling me?’

  Art stopped. The sound came from the desk.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Art. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m…

  ‘Are you a ghost?’

  There was an electronic laugh. Then whirring. The cat jumped down and Art could make out the shape of a phone on the desk.

  ‘Dumb cat!’

  Art laughed aloud. He laughed so loudly Mrs.Tasker came in, wearing a red dressing gown, with spots like bird droppings.

  ‘What’s wrong, Art? Are you having nightmares?’

  ‘No. Just night cats.’

  When they worked out what had happened, Mrs. Tasker laughed too. The Taskers had a combined phone-fax-answer machine. Puss had been sleeping on top of it. Somehow, the cat had managed to press three buttons in the right order.

  ‘This is the speaker. This is the dial button. And here is the pre-programmed number of a client,’ explained Mrs. Tasker. She called her husband. Yawning Mr. Tasker came into the room. ‘It could have been worse,’ he yawned. ‘I’ve got lots of pre-coded international numbers for Italy on there. I’m a Lion you see.’

  Art didn’t. He just looked like a man.

  ‘Lions are a service organization. They help people. Our silly cat rang another Lion whose number I pre-coded.’

  ‘Could have been expensive ,’ said Mrs. Tasker. ‘But since he’s a Lion he should understand.’

  She turned to Art. “Lions are big cats. Get it?’

  Art smiled, a bit later. But the cat call gave him an idea. Perhaps the ringmaster could ring up about a lost ring? Perhaps they could set their performance at a call centre? People could ring in? Or maybe a TV telethon when people ring up? Perhaps they could use that? Art was getting excited, sort of.

  In the six weeks leading up to Tournament Day, the two teams worked hard. Even Art was swept up in the fun because India blackmailed him .She said she’d never look up another fact for him, unless he stayed in their team.

  Art had lots of ideas about rings. So did India and the rest of the team. They practiced in the General Purpose Room together until Mario complained,’ What are you doing? It’s so noisy. Those fake phones ring all the time!’

  So then Mario’s team practiced on Tuesdays and Fridays. India’s team practiced on Mondays and Wednesdays. Luckily, Mrs. Tasker was the coach of Art’s team. Mario’s team had Mr. Smith.

  At first, Mario sent a spy to listen. Then Mrs. Tasker talked about sharing and competitions.’ You’re really competing against yourself, not the other team. TOM is about thinking in different ways.’ So Art thought about ‘rings’ and ‘detectives’ all the time. In the schoolyard, he photographed ring-barked trees, jumped every time a bike bell rang and saved rings from drink cans in case India could use them, at no cost. She was writing a script, but Art remembered his bit by heart.

  ‘You were asking me about rings…?’ Mum flipped over the pancake.

  ‘Yes,’ said Art.

  ‘I heard a real story about a lost ring at work, yesterday.’

  ‘What happened?’ Art liked it when Mum told stories. Especially if she kept cooking.

  ‘You know that trash and treasure market they hold down near the race course?’

  Art nodded. Solving the case of the missing greyhound Grey Flash had been one of his best.

  ‘Someone left some valuable rings in the pocket of a coat on the stall. It was sold for five dollars. Then the owner realised. He had to chase the new owner. The he had to pay double to get it back. Want another pancake?’

  ‘Thanks.’ Art spread raspberry jam on his pancake. ‘That’s cool. Did the owner tell the new owner about the rings?’

  ‘I didn’t ask. ‘ Mum stirred the mixture. ‘But I guess you would have if you’d been there.’

  ‘Right, Mum,’ said Art. ‘Any more pancakes? I’ll have axle grease on them.’

  His mum smiled as she handed him the Vegemite.

  Chapter 5

  Terminal Room

  ‘Come on, ‘called India, scanning the map. ‘Look for lecture theatre 4 .We perform there at half past three.’

  ‘When’s our spontaneous problem?’

  ‘Later. At four o’clock.’

  The spontaneous problem was something you had to do straightaway, without seeing it before. Art liked challenges, but …now it was Tournament Day. Art was a bit worried about that. He hoped he wouldn’t get asthma today. Sometimes, when he got worried, he needed his puffer. And the team had to work together. He worried that he might not keep up with India. Her mind whizzed like a computer print-out.

  ‘Hey. Look at that!’

  Art saw the money pictures first. Gold coins spilled across the poster. In big, black letters it said, RARE COIN SHOW IN GALLERY.

  ‘Why is a money show on here, Mrs. Tasker? This isn’t a bank.’

  “Lots of things happen at a university, Art.’

  Things Mrs. Tasker hadn’t planned happened too.

  ‘Look for a T sign,’ said India.

  Art pointed. ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Terminal room,’ read India. ‘That’s where they keep computers. No, I meant the TOM sign.’ India pointed to the red and yellow tournament banner. ‘Over there.’

  Just then, Art saw a man wearing a grey dust-coat slip behind the rubbish hopper near the Terminal Room. He would be sure to remember that man, just in case.

  Lots of students were dressed up. A boy walked down the road carrying two signs. TIME PASSING and KNIGHT FOLLOWING.A knight with flattened tin cans around his legs clanked past.

  ‘Who’s he?’ asked Art. ‘Or what’s he?’

  ‘I don’t know everything,’ said India crossly. ‘Grab this.’ Balancing on her good leg, she passed Art a box.

  ‘Is that “Wee knights” or “week nights” ?” Art pointed to the sign on the boy’s chest. India squinted.

  ‘Depends whether he scrunches up his chest or not. The letters are the same. It’s just the spaces.’

  Like mindspaces, thought Art. The ideas in between.

  Now the car park was crowded. Car doors were open. Students were unpacking props. Parents fussed. Teachers bossed the children around, to show they belonged. Children called to each other, pretending not to care but enjoying being part of it. Art was glad they had Mrs. Tasker as their coach. She didn’t fuss, much.

  ‘Art, get the board out. India, grab the school sign. Rae, where’s the hat? Have you got the ring for Team 1?’

  Alongside, Mario pulled a long tree from Mr. Smith’s boot. They were Team 2.They were on before India’s team. The order was just the luck of the draw, their coach Mr. Smith had explained.

  Art looked up. Grey buildings stretched high above him. This was the university. You needed a few brains to come here, his dad always said. India’s aunty worked here. Art wasn’t sure if it was the place for him. But the ra
re coins interested him. So did the Terminal Room. He wondered if they had any computer games in there? He peered in at the window. There were rows of screens and keyboards. . But he didn’t fiddle with them. Outside the door was an electronic key with numbers to punch or swipe. But he didn’t fiddle with them. ‘Let’s look at the money show, India.’

  ‘Okay. Hey. I remember. Today’s paper had something about a rare coin.’ Quickly India unwrapped the newspaper around their props.

  ‘Here it is.’ Usually Art used newspaper only when he cleaned his shoes, which wasn’t very often. Newspaper stopped polish going on the floor.

  India read aloud. ‘The Money Show includes a rare1931 gold sovereign worth one million dollars. Many others are worth several thousand dollars each. On show in the gallery, for one week only.’

  ‘Let’s have a look!’

  ‘Be at lecture theatre 4 in half an hour,’ warned Coach Tasker.

  ‘No worries.’

  Art found the gallery door. He poked his head inside. The gallery was a bog room with high walls and a skylight. In the background he could hear the hum of a vacuum cleaner.

  ‘Oh, it’s just a room, ’ he said.’ I thought a galley was a kitchen.’

  ‘You’re thinking of a galley in a ship. This is a gallery with an R.’

  India stopped to tie up her only shoe lace. ‘They show pictures and pottery and things.’ She hopped on her crutches. ‘Things like coins.’

  Art nodded. The coins were under glass. They had soft blue velvet under them. Art stared through the glass cabinet. The glass acted like a mirror. Someone was looming up behind him.

  ‘Stick’em up!’

  Art’s arms were halfway up when he realized.

  ‘Quit it Mars. They’ll think you’re for real.’

  ‘You did,’ laughed Mario. “You thought I was a stick-up artist.’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ muttered Art. Mario was like that. Always showing off. This time he made a fool of himself.