MISSY

JAMIE

Jamie is not only facing the mystery at school but he also has problems at home. If you sometimes read books or if you don’t find English too difficult, read Jamie’s chapters. Find out what trouble he’s in. What dangerous plan will he come up with …?

Chapter 1

JAMIE

Here is how the strangeness begins.

I'm walking across the school playground on my way to a small brick building we call the Old Music Room. School is over for the day, and I have practice with my band Eye Trouble (or I Trouble, we keep changing the name).

Outside the Old Music Room, I stop, then listen.

A noise is coming from the building.

A thumping, shouting, screaming noise.

The Old Music Room is rocking. And not in a good way.

I look through the only window in the building. A small figure is moving around in there, thumping the tables with his hands, yelling as he goes.

It’s Marko, the bass player in the band, and he seems to be going mad.

MARKO

ME: 7^)$%8!

~#+!&?$%%%!

JAMIE

Marko is small, and a year younger than Tri and me. He has wild red hair and bright blue eyes. Normally he is very quiet, but not now.

Could he be practising a new song? I don’t think so. Eye Trouble may not be great, but we are better than this.

I have a strong feeling inside that things are about to get weird.

I take a deep breath, and open the door.

MARKO

ME: ’~#+!&?$%%%! %^?#@!

Aaaaarrrrgggghhhh! Aaaa-’

I am shouting.

I am screaming.

I might even be swearing.

In the middle of shouting really loudly, I see Jamie. He is standing at the door.

Jamie is in the year above me. He’s my friend, but sometimes he looks at me like he’s some kind of teacher.

JAMIE: ‘What’s up, Marko?’

I spread my arms.

ME: ‘Look! Look at all this! ~{+$%!’

Jamie frowns. He looks around the room. Now he sees why I’m angry.

There are books and sheets of music all over the floor.

The music stand is broken and is lying in one corner. A cup has been thrown at the piano.

There are sharp broken pieces of china on the black and white keys.

Chairs have been pushed over.

JAMIE: (in a sad voice) ‘Oh, Marko, what have you done?’

Everybody always blames me. Even my so-called friends.

ME: (angry) ‘It wasn’t me. I found it like this. Someone has trashed the room.’

JAMIE: ‘But why?’

ME: ‘I don’t know. @~{£^&%! ~{@&^£&!’

JAMIE

A word about Marko.

He has what teachers call ‘issues’. Temper issues. Learning issues. Fitting-in issues. Doing-what-he’s-told issues. Think of an issue, and Marko’s got it.

There’s a rumour at school that his mum and dad came here with a group of travellers (we’re not supposed to call them gypsies) when Marko was about five. They moved on, but Marko was left behind. These days, his grandma looks after him.

No one has ever seen Marko’s grandma. Sometimes I think she may not even exist.

One day in the playground, my friend Tri – the third member of our group – stopped some of the younger kids bullying him. After that, he started following her around and somehow he ended up coming to our music practice sessions. Tri lent him a bass ukulele that her parents gave her.

Big surprise: little Marko was good. When he plays the bass these days, his face changes. All the tension and anger seem to be lifted from it. He is calm, and sways in time to the music. Sometimes you can almost see a smile on his lips.

Another thing about Marko. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, he always tells the truth. He won’t lie, even if it means he’ll get into trouble (which he always does).

And that is why right now, as I look around the trashed music room, I believe him – just as I have believed him before. Fact is, this isn’t the first time the music room has been trashed…

I get down on my knees and start picking up the music books which have been thrown on the floor. It’s at this moment that the door opens and Tri walks in. She’s humming a tune and wanders over to the piano.

TRI

I think it’s going to be a jazz thing. I can feel that. It will be the kind of song you might hear in an old-fashioned black-and-white movie. I sing a couple of lines out loud.

JAMIE: ‘Tri…’

‘The day

May be grey,

But hey,

In this heart of mine

It’s summertime –’

JAMIE: ‘Tri…!’

‘Skies of blue,

Boo-boo-be-loo –

‘Ouch!’ Something sharp pricks my finger.

JAMIE: ‘Tri!!’

I stop playing and notice for the first time that Jamie and Marko are standing there, staring at me.

‘Ouch … I cut my finger,’ I cry, sucking the tip of my finger. ‘I’m actually bleeding.’

‘What’s going on?’ I ask. They don’t answer.

I notice that their eyes are on the door behind me.

I hear an adult, a man, coughing behind me.