Ivy whispered back, “Too personal.” Amanda nodded, then realized Ivy couldn’t see her, so she said, “Yeah. We are talking about Simon, aren’t we?”
“We’re waiting, Mr. Binkle,” said the teacher.
“I, um, er . . .”
“Out with it. Have you grown or haven’t you?”
“I, uh, yes. I’ve grown a quarter of an inch since the end of last term.”
The students let out a yell—that is, all the students except Mr. Wiffle.
“Gold star, Miss Halpin,” said Professor Sidebotham. “Better luck next time, Mr. Wiffle.”
This humiliation did not go over well with the Wiffle kid. He groused under his breath and made faces at his freckled friend Gordon Bramble, who was sitting next to him as usual.
“Now then, class,” said Professor Sidebotham. “I know you’ve all seen the camel in the hall. I want you all to text me the answer to this question within ten seconds: one hump or two? Miss Halpin, you may skip this exercise if you desire. Go.”
“That’s all right, Professor,” said Ivy. “I have an answer.” She started texting into her specially adapted phone.
Ack! Amanda had no idea. She’d run right past the animal and had barely noticed it. She didn’t want to blow another of Professor Sidebotham’s pop quizzes. At least she had a fifty-fifty chance, though. She took a chance and texted “1.”
“Time,” said the teacher. “Let’s see what we have. Ten ones, nineteen twos, and what’s this? None? Who said none?” She peered out over the class. “I don’t like wiseacres.”
“But it didn’t have any,” called out David Wiffle. “It’s a flatback highland humpless from Tanzania.”
“Actually, he’s right,” said Simon, thumbing his phone. “And ironically, it was discovered by a biologist named Humphrey something. Pretty good, eh? Hump, Humphrey?” He started to crack up, then stopped abruptly. “I knew that. Why did I say one hump?” He reddened again.
“Well done, Mr. Wiffle. It was a trick question. You passed with flying colors. The rest of you, this is what happens when you let your expectations color your observations. Empty your mind of preconceived notions. Do not see what you expect to see. See what is.”
Amphora raised her hand.
“Yes, Miss Kapoor,” said the teacher.
“Professor, if there really were no humps, why did you say we’re wiseacres.”
Oh great, thought Amanda. Now she’d stepped in it.
“Part of my strategy to trick you, Miss Kapoor. Be ever vigilant. Don’t let your senses fool you. And on that note, I’d like to announce that we will be using our senses in a very concentrated fashion in one week. We will be going on a field trip to Blackpool.”
“Yay!” “Hurrah!” “Cool!” “Radical!” “Sweet!” said the class.
Amanda leaned over to Ivy. “What’s Blackpool?”
“It’s a huge amusement park-y place. Kind of like Disney World except way bigger and with lots more stuff to do.”
“Oh, cool! I love Space Mountain.”
“Now, while I expect that you will enjoy yourselves, the purpose of the trip is to practice observing,” said the professor, ambling around the room. “You will need to be ready for anything, and I do mean anything. I will be presenting observing exercises on the spot. These will count toward your grade, so it will behoove you to pay attention. Mr. Bramble, please put your phone away.”
“Yes, Professor. Sorry, Professor,” said Gordon Bramble, stuffing his phone in his pocket. Amanda just knew he’d been playing games instead of listening.
“For example, I might ask you to pick out a certain number of items and make a story out of them. Miss Lester, you should be good at that. I’m looking forward to sitting in on your storytelling seminar.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Amanda beamed. Thrillkill had asked her to present a special storytelling workshop to the class, and she was so excited she couldn’t wait.
“Or, I might ask you to give me the backgrounds or attributes of a number of items that have something in common. For example, I want to know where all the blue items within ten feet might have come from. How many of this or that are there? Move your point of view n degrees and tell me how the scene has changed. If you had to testify in court about this or that, what would you say? These are only some of the questions I’ll be asking. Others will come as a complete surprise and I expect you to rise to the challenge.” She stopped at Prudence Starshine’s seat and stared directly at the slender golden-haired girl, who quailed under her gaze.
“You will also describe your methods. I will ask you to write a paper on this topic later. Hearing about how each student works will allow you to try out new techniques and expand on what you see, and later you will look at a given scene the way one or another of your classmates does. So shared experiences will be critical.” She glanced from Owla Snizzle to Clive Ng. “Perhaps you, Miss Snizzle, and you, Mr. Ng, will team up.” Both kids looked terrified.
“And don’t forget to use all of your senses. Miss Halpin, obviously I don’t expect you to use your eyes, but I want you to help the other students develop their auditory, olfactory, and tactile senses. In fact I would like you to prepare some lectures on these topics. Please see me at the end of the day to discuss this project.”
Ivy grinned for the first time. “Yes, ma’am.” Then she turned to Amanda and said, “You’re better at this stuff than I am. She should ask you. You notice stuff because of your film training.”
“I’m not better,” whispered Amanda. “It’s just that when you’re responsible for every detail of look and feel, you notice everything. But you’re naturally better.”
“No, I’m not,” said Ivy, looking like she’d lost her best friend.
What was up with her? Amanda was starting to worry. She looked around the classroom. “Still no Editta, I see.”
“I know,” said Ivy. “I don’t like this. You don’t think her parents pulled her out of school, do you?”
“I don’t see why. And even if they did she’d say goodbye.”
“Yes, she would. This isn’t good.”
Suddenly the door opened and Headmaster Thrillkill stuck his head in. He gave a sign to Professor Sidebotham, then entered followed by a nice-looking dark-skinned boy wearing a bow tie and a serious expression. The kid seemed to gleam. The buttons on his blazer glinted like diamonds, the creases in his trousers were impossibly perfect, and he was wearing freshly buffed tasseled loafers. Even his short afro sparkled. He looked like he’d just arrived from the 1950s.
“Sorry to interrupt, Professor,” said Thrillkill, “but I have a new student for you. Class, this is Scapulus Holmes.”
The room went silent. The boy stood by the door and smiled ever so slightly.
Amanda took in the sight before her. This was Holmes? This vision of smugness? Ugh. He was going to be awful—worse than she’d expected. Who dressed like that? He was obviously so self-involved that he couldn’t recognize how real people looked and behaved. She wanted to run up and pull that prissy little bow tie off his neck, rub dirt on those too-shiny buttons, and scuff up his look-at-me shoes.
Before she knew it she had blurted out, “OMG, what a dork!” Then, realizing what she’d done, she turned as red as Simon’s sweater and bolted from the room, leaving behind a roomful of gaping would-be detectives.
2
Gordon Bramble Explodes
Amanda had pulled some stupid stunts in her life, but reacting to Sherlock Holmes’s descendant that way was the worst ever. How gauche could she be? She could hear Nick’s voice in her head saying, “Good one, Lestrade.” He had called her by her ancestor’s name when he turned mean, and it had stung like a thousand wasps. She was so ashamed she wanted to die. How could she ever go back into that room? Maybe she should just stow away on another delivery truck, the way she’d done last term when she was trying to find her father, and go home, or anywhere that wasn’t Legatum. Her parents had offered her the chance to go back to L.A
. and live with relatives. Maybe she should take it and leave this craziness behind.
Actually that might not be such a bad idea. Maybe she didn’t belong at Legatum at all. For a girl who prided herself on her observational skills, she had really messed up. How could she have failed to see what Nick really was? Now that she looked back, it was obvious he’d been playing her. Was she that stupid?
Obviously she was. He’d known she was gullible. Out of a class of thirty students he’d singled her out as the one most likely to believe his lies. By spending so much time with her, he’d limited his exposure to others who might have been more skeptical. He must have had highly developed turkey radar. What was it that had made her such an obvious choice? Of course—what else? It was those awful Lestrade genes again.
She heard the door to the observation classroom open and saw Professor Thrillkill come out. Fortunately she was out of his line of sight and was able to duck around a corner without being seen. She tried to make like Ivy and prick up her ears, but her heart was pounding so hard it was difficult to hear footsteps. Still there was the headmaster’s voice, joined by another she didn’t recognize. She caught the words “Blixus” and “Feeney,” but she couldn’t make out anything else. She was sure the two of them were discussing the missing item, but she was unable to glean anything beyond that. Nevertheless, the conversation seemed to add proof to her fear that something weird was happening.
She knew she was going to have to face the music so she tiptoed back toward the classroom. Thankfully, Professor Thrillkill and whoever he was talking to had disappeared, but she was still supposed to see him later. Ugh. He’d definitely say something about her outburst. Just when he’d seemed to thaw a little she’d had to go and ruin everything. Typical.
She opened the door slowly to minimize the creaking and stepped back inside. The room was dead still except for Professor Sidebotham’s voice. The new student had found a seat. Everyone turned to look at her, obviously embarrassed on her behalf, except for Wiffle and his friend Gordon Bramble, who giggled. She sat back down and drew her body inward, as if to hide in plain sight. Should she say something to Holmes? He was sitting way across the room, paying rapt attention to the teacher. He seemed to be acting like nothing had happened but she couldn’t tell for sure. He certainly didn’t seem to be brooding, or laughing. He was a complete cipher. Well, wasn’t that just like a Holmes—completely wrapped up in himself. Still, she’d done a terrible thing and there would be a price to pay.
“Miss Lester? I asked you a question,” said Professor Sidebotham.
The whole class, Holmes included, turned to look at her.
“I’m sorry, Professor. Would you mind repeating it?” Amanda’s face felt so hot she thought she could fry an egg on it.
“I said would you please elaborate on my point.” The professor looked at her sternly.
“Uh, sure. Er, you were talking about using all the senses instead of just sight.” It sounded good anyway.
“That was ten minutes ago, Miss Lester. Please join us in the twenty-first century.”
“Sorry, Professor. I was, uh, I didn’t hear what you said.”
“No, you did not, Miss Lester. You committed a faux pas, which is entirely human, but a detective stands up and accepts the consequences of her actions. She doesn’t run away. Being out of the room is no excuse. I’m deducting fifty points from your next test. Is that clear?”
The Wiffle kid was gloating so hard he looked like a mask of himself. Amanda felt that she’d gotten off easy, however, and said, “Yes, Professor. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t. Now, class . . .”
Professor Sidebotham’s voice faded out of Amanda’s consciousness. Maybe she had been too cocky thinking she was over the whole Holmes thing. She’d just demonstrated that Holmes and his family could still get to her. This was not good.
Except that it wasn’t her, it was him. She was the victim. She decided she hated Holmes more than ever. She even convinced herself that it was his fault that Nick had betrayed her and the school. Holmes and his family must have provoked the Moriartys into that whole sugar scheme and made them so angry that they’d had to use their twelve-year-old son to infiltrate the detectives’ school. Moriarty was only Moriarty because he had Holmes to play off of. If there were no Holmes, he’d just be an ordinary, run-of-the-mill loser. She seethed so hard she could barely keep it together.
When the class ended Holmes was nowhere to be seen. Amphora ran to Amanda and said, “I can’t believe you said that.” Although she knew what she’d done was horrific, Amphora’s accusing comment got her dander up and she huffed off.
Then Simon came up to her and said, “Way to go, Amanda.”
“Don’t be mean,” said Ivy, who had joined them. “It wasn’t the greatest thing to say, but it’s not the end of the world.”
“It was incredibly embarrassing,” said Amanda. “Who’s the dork here—him or me?”
“Live and learn,” said Simon in his maddening way.
“I think he’s cute,” said Amphora, rejoining the group.
“You would,” said Simon.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Here we go again. Amanda wondered if those two would ever get along. Probably not.
“Nothing much. You’re just a bit moony,” Simon said.
“What do you mean moony?” Amphora crossed her arms the way she often did with him.
“You’re always mooning over guys, that’s all,” he said.
“I don’t moon. Ivy, do I moon?” Amphora uncrossed her arms and turned to her roommate.
“No, I don’t think you moon,” said Ivy.
“What do you mean you don’t think I moon?”
“You don’t moon, okay?” said Ivy with uncharacteristic pique. What was up with her? Maybe this thing with Editta was really getting to her.
“What am I going to do?” said Amanda. “I hate that guy. I mean, I don’t hate that guy because I don’t know him, but I hate Sherlock Holmes and everything about him, and—well, I do hate that guy because did you see how he looks? He’s going to be terrible. And now he knows I hate him and Thrillkill is forcing me to be his big sister and that kid is going to cause me so much grief and what about all the other kids who heard me say that, and Sidebotham too?”
“You’re making too much of this,” Amphora said.
“Agreed,” said Simon, astonishing everyone. He never agreed with her.
“I don’t think so,” said Amanda. She was pacing now.
“They’ll get over it,” said Simon. “Anyway, he looked fine to me.”
“I don’t think he looks bad at all,” said Amphora. “It’s refreshing when someone pays attention to their appearance."
“Yeah, I saw you noticing him,” said Simon. “You looked like a dog discovering a steak.” Amphora glared at him.
“He has a lovely voice,” said Ivy.
“When did you hear his voice?” said Amphora. She looked startled for some reason Amanda couldn’t fathom.
“He said something under his breath,” said Ivy. “You didn’t hear?”
“No,” said Amphora.
“Well, he does,” said Ivy.
“You girls are nuts,” said Simon, shaking his head and walking off.
“Did you do what we talked about?” Ivy said to Amanda.
“What? Oh, you mean the texts?” She rummaged in her bag. “Got it.” She held her phone at the ready. The light hit it at just the right angle and it glinted.
“Yes.”
“What texts?” said Amphora, who seemed annoyed at having been left out.
“Have you heard anything from Editta?” said Amanda.
“What? No. Where is she? Why isn’t she here?” Amphora seemed to be reading disaster into the question. She did that a lot.
“Exactly,” said Ivy.
“We’re going to text her three messages in quick succession and see if she answers,” said Amanda.
“Oh,
I see,” said Amphora. “Like a pattern. She’ll answer that.”
“We hope so,” said Ivy. “Amanda, please do it now.”
“Okay.” Amanda quickly thumbed until she had sent three identical texts in rapid fashion. The girls stood there for a second and stared at the tiny screen. Nothing. “We have to give it some time. Maybe she’s busy.”
“Yes,” said Ivy. “I’m sure that’s it.”
“Definitely,” said Amphora, who didn’t look at all convinced.
“I need to tell you something,” Amanda said to Ivy when Amphora had left. “It’s important.”
“Something bad?”
“It is bad, I’m afraid,” said Amanda. “Maybe very bad.”
“Oh no,” said Ivy. “You’d better tell me quick.”
Amanda explained what she’d overheard before class. As she revealed more and more of the detail, Ivy’s expression grew increasingly serious until her brow was deeply creased with worry.
“This isn’t good,” she said. “We need to do something.”
“Do what?” said Amanda. “We don’t even know what’s missing.”
“We have to figure it out fast,” said Ivy. “You’re right. We’ve never heard the teachers act like this before. Something terrible is about to happen. Anything to do with the Moriartys can’t be good. I need to know more. I’ll bet I can pick up something if I nose around.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about this at lunch. Maybe Simon and Amphora can help.”
“If they ever stop fighting. What is it with those two?”
“I don’t know. They sure don’t like each other.”
“No. They don’t.”
Amanda, Ivy, and Nigel scooted off to their fires and explosions class. They wished they’d taken it last term, when the school’s garage had exploded as part of the class project. As they investigated the explosion and the fire it had started, the kids were unsure what to look for and how to preserve the evidence, but the teachers had structured the exercise to be difficult on purpose. They’d wanted to test the new class’s skill at handling an unfamiliar and dangerous situation. In the end, only Holmes House, which was where Amanda, Ivy, Amphora, Simon, Editta, and Nick had been assigned, had cracked the mystery. The other houses, especially Van Helden House, which included David Wiffle and Gordon Bramble, had resented them, going so far as to complain that Holmes House had cheated, which had not gone over well with the powers that be. Holmes House’s victory had helped melt Thrillkill’s icy exterior and led to him asking Amanda to teach the storytelling class.
Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 35