by Laura Wood
**Clunking noise**
Sharp-Eye Sheila: All right, Poppy?
Me: Hi, Sharpy!
Sharp-Eye Sheila: Just trying out the new knives while everyone’s packing up the equipment.
Me: We had our first music lesson today; you’d have loved it!
Sharp-Eye Sheila: Oh, yes I would, but if your teacher can get you to practise then they’ll have done a better job than me!
Me: Not fair! I always practised … sort of. I just wasn’t any good at the banjo. Or the recorder. Or the triangle.
Sharp-Eye Sheila: Nor the tambourine neither. You’re the only person I know who can’t master the tambourine.
Me: Well, my friend Kip is even less musical than me and he’s going to be a tuba player!
Sharp-Eye Sheila: Wonderful, we could do with a decent brass section. Boris has been coming on lovely on his drums. Apart from he accidentally got a bit excited and bashed one of his cymbals too hard.
Me: Oh jeepers, what happened?
Sharp-Eye Sheila: Dunno. Flew right off in the air like a frisbee. Did hear that a farmer down the road fainted after he saw a spaceship hurtle past his head, but probably not related…
Me: Er, no, probably not.
Sharp-Eye Sheila: Hang on, Chuckles is here. He wants the phone.
**Clunking noise**
Chuckles: (long silence)
Me: Thanks, Chuckles, that means a lot.
**Clunking noise**
Pym: Poppy?
Me: Pym!
Pym: Listen, we have to go, but I had to give you a message first. I’ve had a vision and it’s very important. BEWARE THE EYE.
Me: The eye? What does it mean?
Pym: It is unclear, but just make sure you remember. Watch out for the eye.
**End of transcript**
The phone cut out with a click and I felt fear snaking down my back and goosebumps covering my arms. What did Pym’s warning mean? And was it somehow connected to the Pharaoh’s Curse? The night sky was inky dark and I hurried back to the comfortable warm glow of the dorm room as fast as my legs would carry me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Everything was quiet for a few more days, but we should have known it could only be so long before the curse reared its ugly head again. Friday morning tumbled in as warm and sleepy as a baby goat. I spent it dragging my feet and sighing hideously because our first lesson of the day was chemistry with Miss Susan. Things had not improved there, and I thought I would rather eat a whole plateful of boiled cabbage than have to endure any more of Miss Susan’s snotty remarks or hear her frilly, trilling voice.
“Come on, Pops, it won’t be so bad,” said Ingrid. “Remember how much I was dreading PE and now I think it’s sort of fun. Plus with all this circus training I think my reactions have already improved.” She waved her hands as if swinging an imaginary bat.
Even though I knew Ingrid was right, it was still with great reluctance that I shuffled after her towards the lesson. When we arrived, everyone was waiting outside.
“Miss Susan’s not in there,” said Kip, pointing at the room. “No one is. She must be late.”
I pressed my hand against the cool door and it swung open. “Well, it’s open,” I said.
“We might as well go in and sit down,” piped up Annabelle, bossily. “There’s no point waiting out here with all the riff-raff,” and she looked down her nose at me.
We all grabbed our bags and shuffled in, strangely quiet. It was hard to imagine the super-efficient Miss Susan being late for anything.
“Helloooooo?” I called, but there was no response. “Maybe she’s in the storeroom.” I pointed towards the front of the classroom, behind Miss Susan’s desk and at the door to a small room where the lab equipment was kept. I walked closer to take a look, calling out again, “Miss Susan? Are you there?” but the door was partly open and it was clear that the room was empty apart from the usual glass beakers and the locked cabinet containing the chemicals.
As I turned back to face everyone, I saw something out the corner of my eye that made my heart trip over itself with a thuddity-thud.
“No, she’s not here,” I said loudly. “I suppose we might as well all just sit down and wait.”
While everyone else was distracted – grumbling, settling in and pulling out their pencil cases – I gestured to Kip and Ingrid. “LOOK!” I hissed out of the side of my mouth, and I pointed to the blackboard. There, drawn in chalk, was a symbol in the shape of an eye. It looked just like an ancient Egyptian hieroglyph!
Nobody else seemed to be paying much attention to it, but then nobody else was on a top sleuthing mission like we were.
“Hmm,” muttered Ingrid, her forehead scrunched in concentration. “Curious.”
“I think you mean WEIRD,” said Kip. “What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, “but it must have something to do with the curse, don’t you think? And why is it in Miss Susan’s room? Where is she?”
“What are you three doing?” came a shrill voice as Annabelle descended on us.
“None of your beeswax, Annabelle,” answered Kip sharply. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”
“Oooooooh!” smirked Annabelle. “Sorrrrry, Mr High and Mighty. Just looked to me like you might be up to some troublemaking, and as you know I’ve been made prefect now.” She pointed to a shining red-and-gold badge pinned to the front of her shirt. “My daddy joked that it should say ‘PERFECT’, hahaha!” Annabelle trilled, turning to her appreciative friends.
“Oh yes, Annabelle,” breathed Trixie Pepperington-Wallop, one of Annabelle’s most annoying sidekicks, “that’s sooooo true!”
“Ugh!” interrupted Kip loudly. “Put a sock in it, Trixie. I think we should all just sit down.”
We all returned to our seats and waited, a gentle murmur of chatter filling the air.
“Well, I’m the prefect,” sang Annabelle in her annoying whine, “and I’m not even sure we should be waiting around much longer for a teacher who can’t be bothered to show up. It’s disgraceful, really. In fact, my daddy says…” Annabelle’s tirade was cut short by the appearance of Miss Susan. Was it my imagination or was she wearing the same flustered look I had seen on her face the night of the power cut?
Then, with a jolt, I remembered Pym’s warning. BEWARE THE EYE. My stomach started doing its own tumbling routine. “Kip, Ingrid—” I croaked, but Miss Susan’s voice cut over mine.
“Yes, that’s quite enough, thank you, Annabelle,” Miss Susan broke in, her voice as chilly as a double scoop of mint choc chip ice cream. “I apologize for my lateness, class. Let’s lose no more time before we get started.” She looked about the room, which despite its open window shades was still decidedly gloomy. “And why are you all sitting here in the dark?”
“Didn’t know where the light switches were, miss,” offered a lanky boy named Tom.
“Hmmph,” sighed Miss Susan, “they’re right here.”
And then everything seemed to go in slow motion.
As Miss Susan flicked the light switch, a spark seemed to flash from behind the storeroom door.
There was a split second of silence followed by a loud shriek of “FIRE!”
Flames were licking around the storeroom door frame, a bright dazzling orange. Our table, though separated from the room by the blackboard, Miss Susan’s desk, and a generous amount of floor space, was still the closest one to the fire, and I could already feel the heat from the flames. A roaring sound filled my ears.
The room was filling up with thick black smoke and my ears were ringing. I had always hoped that in a situation like this one I would leap to action like Dougie Valentine and find a way to save the day, but instead it felt like someone had superglued me to my seat, and my brain was full of that crackly white noise you hear when you t
une the radio. I realized I could hear lots of people shouting and screaming. Everyone started knocking into one another, pushing to get out.
Miss Susan’s voice cut through the chaos. “Everyone out! This way, out here!”
I was coughing, my brain trying to make sense of my surroundings. I found myself looking into the dazed, smudged faces of Ingrid and Kip.
“Are you OK?” I shouted. They both nodded.
“Ingrid got knocked over, but I’m all right,” said Kip.
“I told you, I’m fine,” said Ingrid.
Then Miss Susan was next to us, her hand surprisingly gentle on my arm. “Are you three OK?” she asked.
“We’re fine,” I managed, spluttering a little, and I saw a look of relief flit over Miss Susan’s face.
“OK, then,” she said, putting an arm around my shoulders, “come with me. QUICKLY.”
The heat from the flames in the store cupboard was growing more intense, and I could hear the sound of smashing glass behind it as we hurried out the room as fast as our wobbling legs would carry us.
We were outside now and crowds of children were huddled around while teachers desperately tried to get them to line up in their groups so that they could mark them off their registers. The school fire alarm was wailing, and in the distance I could hear the answering wail of sirens drawing closer. From one side of the building a thick cloud of black smoke was billowing.
Miss Baxter appeared in front of us. “Thank heavens you’re all OK!” she cried. “Is everyone out?”
“Yes,” Miss Susan said with a nod. Her voice was smooth and calm, but I could see that her hands were trembling.
“We’re fine,” said Kip reassuringly, and Miss Baxter squeezed his shoulder.
“I think it looks worse than it is,” said Miss Susan. “It seems that the fire is contained to the storeroom, but there was a lot of smoke.”
“But you’re all OK?” asked Miss Baxter, quickly.
“Yes, fine,” whispered Ingrid faintly, and then she dropped down, hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two hours later Kip and I were sitting in the infirmary next to Ingrid, her face a pale moon against her pillow.
“It’s so stupid that I have to stay in bed like this,” she grumbled. “I feel fine.”
“The doctor said you might have a concussion, because you hit your head when you fell. It’s just to be on the safe side.” I squeezed her hand.
“So what about the fire? Have they found out what happened?” Ingrid asked.
“There was some kind of gas in the storeroom, and the wiring on one of the lights in there was damaged. The spark from the light being turned on reacted with the gas and caused the fire to start,” Kip said. “They’ve checked everywhere else and it’s fine, so they think it must have been something to do with the chemicals not being stored properly. Just a weird accident.”
“Yes, another one!” said Ingrid, a flash coming back into her eyes.
“What do you mean?” asked Kip
“I know what she means,” I said slowly. “After the power cut and the bees…” I shook my head thoughtfully. “It’s all just too much of a coincidence.” As I said it, I felt like a top detective, about to get cracking on my next big case. I cleared my throat. “You guys, I tried to tell you just before the fire started – when I spoke to Pym on Tuesday she said she had a vision. She said BEWARE THE EYE.” There was a pause.
“The symbol on the blackboard,” said Ingrid, her eyes widening, “What was that doing there?”
“Yeah … that was … strange,” muttered Kip. “But what are you saying? You think the curse is real?”
There was a loud silence, and I could see the other two were feeling as jumbly inside as I was.
“No,” I said, thinking very carefully, trying to keep up with the helter-skelter my brain was on. “These ‘accidents’ – they’re not exactly spooky, are they? I mean, it’s not like ghosts appearing or … or … I don’t know, undead mummies or anything is it?”
“But neither were the accidents that the Van Bothings had…” said Ingrid, fear in her voice.
“Yeah, true,” I said, “but it still feels wrong somehow. I mean, the other things, they all happened to one person. The things happening at Saint Smithen’s, well, who’s the target? I mean, if it was the curse, wouldn’t people be dropping down dead in mysterious circumstances? I don’t know, it just doesn’t add up.”
Kip was nodding slowly. “Poppy’s right,” he said. “The power cut was one thing, but the bees? We had just walked past them. We were looking right at the glass case and there was no way the bees could get out. Someone must have broken the glass.”
“Yeah,” I burst in, “and the chemicals all being in the same spot that the light was damaged. That’s a big coincidence.”
“Especially when the whole science block is completely brand-spanking new, and has only just been built,” Ingrid joined in, leaning forward in her bed. “Why would a brand-new wire be damaged?”
“Someone did it deliberately!” exclaimed Kip, jumping to his feet.
I felt the fizz of excitement and fear mixing together inside me like a peanut butter and banana sandwich. I had read enough Dougie Valentine books to know that this was what he called a “gut feeling”. I knew Kip was right. Someone had been causing these accidents deliberately. The question was, who?
“I think you’re right,” said Ingrid, her voice breaking into my thoughts. “Even the power cut could have been caused on purpose.” She screwed up her face, and I could almost see the cogs in her brain turning round and round. “Somebody wants everyone to think the curse is real. That’s why they drew the symbol in the chemistry classroom.”
“But who would do it? And why?” Kip echoed my earlier thought, his bewildered face a mirror image of my own.
“You know, “ I said, “Miss Susan was outside with a torch when the power went off, and Letty said that the drama club saw someone skulking around with a torch not long before she found us.”
“You’re right,” squeaked Ingrid. “And you know what else, she was there after the bee attack too, standing behind Miss Baxter.”
“And she’s the one who turned on the light switch that started the fire in the first place. The symbol was drawn on the blackboard in her classroom!” rumbled Kip, looking dangerously like he was the one about to explode.
The three of us sat staring at one another, eyes as big as dinner plates.
“But wait.” Ingrid frowned. “Why would Miss Susan want people to think the curse was real?”
“BECAUSE SHE WANTS TO STEAL THE RUBY!” shouted Kip, jumping from his seat. “Don’t you see?! She was skulking around the exhibit just as it arrived! It’s the ruby she’s after!”
“But then why is she making all these accidents happen?” I said, shaking my head. “Something just doesn’t make sense.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
“We need some help,” I said finally. “We need a plan to flush out Miss Susan, just like Dougie Valentine would do.”
“No one will believe us,” said Kip gloomily.
But a tiny bean-sized idea had appeared in my brain, and in a moment it had grown into a huge beanstalk-sized idea. “Leave it to me.” I smiled. “I think I know who can help us.”
Ten minutes later I was back outside Miss Baxter’s office. Gertrude was in her usual seat, wearing her usual crumbly cardigan. This time it was purple – or had been once, I think. It was really a kind of brown now, and it had little pearl buttons on. She squinted at me and croaked, “Ah, Miss Pym … back again. We’re going to have to put your name on one of those seats.” I smiled as she let out a wheezy laugh. “I’ll just see if the headmistress can see you.” Gertrude heaved herself out of her seat and started her painfully slow shuffle towards the office. While she was
still making her way to the door, it burst open and Miss Baxter came out.
“Ahh, Gertrude, I wonder if you can get the head of the school board on the phone…” Miss Baxter trailed off as she saw me. “Poppy! Is everything all right? Ingrid’s OK?” A worried frown appeared between her eyes.
“She’s fine, miss,” I reassured her. “Actually, I came to see you.”
“Oh.” Miss Baxter smiled. “Well, I’m a bit busy at the moment, as you can imagine.”
“It’s quite important, miss,” I said quietly.
There was a pause and then Miss Baxter smiled. “OK, I can spare five minutes. Come in.” She held the door to her office open for me and I hurried inside.
“It’s about the grand opening party – for the exhibition,” I burst out, before Miss Baxter had even reached her seat.
Miss Baxter looked confused. “The grand opening party?” she said. “I hadn’t even thought about it. Perhaps we should cancel, what with everything that’s going on.”
Gertrude, who had at just that moment appeared in the doorway, chimed in, “Might be for the best, Miss Baxter. I’ve got a lot of people going mad on the phone. All this bloomin’ curse business and what not. Wouldn’t hurt to push things back a week or two.”
“No! You can’t,” I burst out.
Gertrude turned a pair of angry eyes on me, her wrinkly mouth set in a thin line. “Well, I don’t think that’s really for you to decide, missy,” she said sharply. “Just wanted to let you know that Mr Forthington-Smythe is on the phone for you, Miss Baxter, and very rude he is too!”
Miss Baxter sighed. “Thank you, Gertrude. Tell him I’ll call him back.” Gertrude waddled out of the room, closing the door behind her. “Now, Poppy, you were saying …”
“Please don’t cancel the party, miss!” I said, my hands clasped together in what I hoped was a winning and innocent-looking fashion. “Everyone’s looking forward to it so much.”
“I know, I know, I was looking forward to it too,” said Miss Baxter wearily, “but these accidents are terrible. Somebody could have been seriously hurt, and I know that the fire chief and the inspector have given the school the all-clear and the damage is limited to the science block, but the students’ safety must come first.”