The Mystery of the Disappearing Underpants

by Nikki Young

  ‘Dad, what are you doing?’ I said, as he rushed past me, holding a shovel and a baseball bat he must have taken from the shed.

  ‘You stay here with your mother,’ Dad said, in a firm tone that meant if I disobeyed I would be in for it. ‘I’m going to get those kids.’

  ‘David, be careful, you don’t know what they might do,’ Mum said, holding me back, but Dad wasn’t listening. We watched him march out of the door, greeted by an equally determined-looking Mr Smith and the pair marched towards number 35. He must have called him too.

  Knowing that the police were on their way and the two dads were going to the rescue should have made me feel better, but it didn’t. I felt sick and couldn’t stop pacing up and down the front room, looking out of the window and waiting for the sirens of the police cars. When they arrived, I relaxed a little and ran out to follow them. Mum called after me to stop, but I ignored her. I heard her swear and come running after me.

  I ran all the way down to number 35 and straight into a police officer who was blocking the entrance to the gate.

  ‘My friends are in there, and my dad, I need to go see if they’re OK,’ I said to him.

  ‘You can’t go in until the area has been declared safe,’ he said.

  ‘But are they going to be all right?’

  The officer looked at me, as though he was about to tell me to stop whining and go home, then he seemed to change his mind.

  ‘I’ll radio through to find out,’ he said and turned away from me.

  Mum caught up with me then and put her hands on my shoulders, giving me a squeeze. By now, the noise and the lights from the police cars had brought a few of the neighbours out of their houses to see what was going on. I could hear Mrs O’Connor’s Irish accent as she said ‘I knew there was something fishy going on with that pair.’ I didn’t turn around though, just kept my eyes fixed on the house and the police officer still on his radio, my fingers crossed, willing everything to be all right.

  When the policeman turned around, he started telling everyone to move back. Other police officers appeared to help clear the area.

  ‘What’s happening? Where is everyone?’ I said to the one who was trying to shove me away.

  ‘You’re a friend of those two little wannabe detectives, are you?’ he said.

  I nodded, wanting to say we’re actually secret agents, not detectives, and would there be a reward, but thought I’d better not in case I got arrested or something.

  ‘Well, I don’t know whether to call them idiots or heroes, but they’ve certainly done us a favour by catching hold of these two.’

  ‘They’re OK, then?’

  ‘Yes, a little shaken up, but otherwise fine. They’ll be out in a minute. That’s quite a job they did in there.’

  Relief turned to jealousy as I wondered what Harry and Stacey had done. Part of me wanted to tell him I was the third man, but something told me he wouldn’t be impressed, so I kept my mouth shut.

  I watched as Barry and Shona were led away out of number 35’s gate and into one of the waiting cars. They both had their hands cuffed behind their back.

  Stacey and Harry followed, with Dad and Mr Smith. They weren’t handcuffed, which was a relief, and they both looked fine – apart from their blackened faces, which were a bit smudged. Stacey’s parents had just arrived home from their night out and came to see what all the fuss was about. When Stacey saw them, she ran over. Harry’s mum joined him and his dad in a group hug.

  ‘Come on,’ Dad said, coming over to Mum and me, ‘let’s get you home. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, starting with why you’ve all got black faces and why you were hanging around this house.’

  Part 6

  How I escaped my kidnappers, by Stacey Webster

  Stacey’s story

  I think you know by now what Stacey is like and as you can imagine there was no way she was going to let me complete this story without adding her bit to it.

  I knew as soon as James and Harry hid under the bed I was in trouble. There was nowhere for me to hide that wasn’t obvious. I mean, under a bed is quite obvious when you think about it, but Barry or Shona were bound to find me first.

  There was also another problem. The wardrobe was full of cobwebs and when I felt one tickle my nose I couldn’t help it, I sneezed. That was when Barry found me. He dragged me out of the wardrobe and started shouting.

  My first thought was that he would kill me. I really did think I might never see my family again and tried so hard not to cry. That thought made me get mad though. If I was going to die, I might as well die fighting, and I wasn’t going to let them know how scared I really was.

  Barry was fat and had a beard. I hadn’t looked at him more closely before, but when he pulled me down the stairs and into the living room I got a good look at him. I thought it would be a good idea to do that in case I did get out of there alive and needed to give the police a description. Fat, hairy and stinky he was, but, underneath all that hair, I thought he actually wasn’t that old. Not as old as my dad anyway.

  Shona was young too. She had long dark brown hair, parted in the middle and hanging around her face. There were braids in her hair and she wore a kind of thin headband that sat across her forehead. She was quite pretty really, but in that moment I hated them both.

  As they argued about what to do with me, I looked around to see if there was any way I could escape. They’d left the door to the living room open and I was just about to make a dash for it when all the lights went off. It was so black I literally couldn’t see a thing, like being blind. It was my best chance to get out, but just as I was about to move towards the door Barry barged into me and knocked me down. He pulled me back up and shoved me towards Shona, who managed to grab my arms and hold them behind my back. I wriggled to break free but she was surprisingly strong.

  Barry swore a lot as he banged and crashed his way towards the door. He was going to try to turn the lights back on I think. That was when I heard another loud crash and I didn’t know until after that it was Harry capturing Barry. I didn’t even know Harry was there at all until the stink bomb rolled into the room.

  Now, I’m used to that smell but obviously Shona wasn’t. She let go of me and started coughing and making sick noises. She stumbled towards the door and left me there. I tried to make my way out too, but it was impossible in the darkness. I kept banging into the wall. It was such a relief to bump into Harry. He gave me a torch and together we trapped Shona in the bathroom.

  *

  It was only afterwards, when it was all over, that I got really scared about what could have happened to us. Mum said it was delayed shock. Both my parents cried when they found out what had gone on. They’d just come home after their night out and said they came to see what all the neighbours were crowding in the street for and why the police were there. Imagine their surprise when they saw Barry and Shona in handcuffs, followed by Harry and me with blackened faces. I felt bad for making them so upset, but the next day they got mad, so I guess they got over it quickly.

  I was officially grounded for the rest of the holidays, just like the boys. It wasn’t so bad though. I’d enjoyed being part of Harry’s secret agency and I’m glad we solved the mystery of number 35. It was all kind of worth it in the end. I mean, we were OK, weren’t we? We caught some criminals, didn’t we? Plus, we did something amazing in the summer holidays and I bet no one can match that. I can’t wait to go back to school and I don’t think I’ve ever said that in my life.

  Part 7

  Final word from me

  (Agent Harry Bond)

  Barry and Shona, it turns out, were wanted criminals who had been moving around the country for years, calling themselves by different names so they wouldn’t get caught. They were part of an underground operation producing false identities for people such as criminals or anyone who was staying in the c
ountry illegally. They made passports, birth certificates and all sorts of other papers you need to pretend to be another person. Plus, they even made fake money.

  They pretended to move into number 35, but never stayed there at all. Instead, they came to the house every night, bringing with them a person who wanted something, like a passport, so they could do the deal. Then they would drive back to wherever they came from. I suppose they did that so the person they did business with would never be able to find them.

  Barry and Shona didn’t count on us being around though, did they? And it was our job as secret agents to work out what they were up to. We found out their secret and caught them in the act. Yeah, I know it went a bit wrong and we could have got into serious trouble, but we still managed to catch them and keep them locked up until the police arrived (Stacey and I did anyway). If I’d known who they were, I’m not sure if I would have been brave enough to stay behind at the house, though. And thinking about it now, I still can’t believe I did that.

  You would think the police would be grateful, but they’re just as cross with us as our parents are. Perhaps they’re jealous because we caught them and they didn’t. I overheard an officer saying they’d been after Barry and Shona for a long time, so I guess the police felt a bit silly that a bunch of kids managed to do what they couldn’t.

  James asked for a reward (typical James) and they said ‘no chance’.

  So that was it: four weeks of madness, followed by getting into loads of trouble. Mum and Dad went from shouting to hugging me, to giving me praise for a job well done and then to calling me an idiot for getting into that situation in the first place. I don’t think they knew what to think, but they said ‘no more trouble from now on’. I guess that’s it for the secret agency then: closed down by senior officials (our parents) for health and safety reasons (because we all nearly got caught by Barry and Shona and they are still freaking out).

  Maybe that’s not a bad thing. The mission is complete and so the agents are happy to retire.

  Besides, I can’t see James or Stacey anyway because they’re grounded too. I don’t know what will happen now. Two mysteries are probably enough for one small street. And besides, we go back to school next week. Boo hoo...

  Talking of mysteries, there is one final one I still haven’t got to the bottom of, and that is

  WHAT HAPPENED TO MY LUCKY UNDERPANTS (bottom of – get it?!).

  1 week later

  You won’t believe this. Even though I played so badly during the holiday football camps, I still got picked for the team to play in the pre-season cup. Coach said he was giving me a second chance because he knew I didn’t usually play like that and I’d better not let him down.

  As if that wasn’t pressure enough, I almost thought about not playing at all. I knew I would be rubbish without my lucky underpants. Not having them had brought me so much bad luck this summer. Yes, we may have uncovered some serious criminals, but the danger we’d got ourselves into in order to catch Barry and Shona could have got us killed.

  It was Max, of all people, who convinced me to play.

  ‘You don’t need any lucky pants,’ he said.

  I tried to tell him otherwise but he put up his hand to stop me, giving me that look, you know, the one that your mum gives you sometimes (who does he think he is?).

  ‘I know you think you need them, but I promise you, you’ll be fine. You’re a good little player and you won’t hear me say that very often, perhaps never again, you got that?’

  I could only nod back at him. I mean, my brother, giving me praise? That’s unheard of. I was about to smile, but thought I’d better not.

  ‘Just get out there and play like you always do. Imagine you have those lucky pants if you need to, but don’t think about the fact you don’t have them.’

  I thought that was good advice, actually: pretend I’m wearing them. It could work and I was prepared to give it a shot. I also thought about that night at Barry and Shona’s house. If I could be brave enough to catch wanted criminals, perhaps I could play a football game without my lucky pants.

  My brother walked off and then ignored me for the rest of the day. I found myself wondering whether he had actually said that to me at all or if I’d just imagined it.

  The advice was good though. On the day of the game, I told myself I was wearing my lucky underpants and I was going to play brilliantly. Guess what? I did. My defending could go down in legend history, my dad said, like John Terry or Ashley Cole. What was even more impressive was I scored the winning goal – me, a defender!

  It was 1:1 with minutes to go. Our team were pushing and attacking but we just couldn’t get through the other team’s defence. All eleven men were forward. One mistake and we’d have been completely open at the back and in big trouble. Olly, our right midfielder, crossed the ball. I was in the middle, outside the box, and when the ball connected with my foot, I volleyed it straight into the top corner. Seconds later, the ref blew his whistle and the crowd went mental. I was the hero and it felt amazing.

  *

  That night the weirdest thing happened. I pulled back my duvet to get into bed and what do you think was there? My lucky underpants! There they were, under the covers as if they’d been there all along. I couldn’t believe it. I’d looked everywhere for those pants (as you know) and I’ve slept in my bed loads of times since I’d lost them.

  But two things have happened recently:

  My mum changed my duvet cover.

  My brother was made to clean out his room because it was so gross in there.

  Mum swears she didn’t see the pants when she was changing the bed covers, and my brother completely denies he had them in his room all along but just didn’t know it because it was so messy in there. So who is telling the truth?

  The disappearing underpants may have been found, but as to how they disappeared, well, I guess that’s still a mystery. Do you know what though? It doesn’t matter anymore because now I know I don’t need them.