in the kitchen, writing. She took out her earphones, smiled at us all, said, ‘Hello, I’m Frances. You must be the
Tribe.’
We all said our names.
She smiled (again), put her earphones back in and went back to her writing. The beads in her hair made the same clackety-clack I remembered from the first time I met her. I waited for her to say
something else, maybe offer us a snack, or at least a drink . . . but she was obviously busy.
‘Come on.’ Jonno led us all upstairs to his room and I watched the faces of the Tribers as they clocked all his gear.
‘You are so lucky,’ said Bee.
Copper Pie put the telly on and started flicking channels. Fifty swivelled on the see-through plastic computer chair, with his feet dangling because they didn’t reach the floor. Bee had
her mouth wide open. She didn’t seem to know what to do. Jonno did.
‘Right, Tribers. Time for a new plan. We can’t interrogate the Year 3 bambinos so we’ll have to try something else. Ideas?’
Complete silence, except for the commentator yelling from the telly. Copper Pie had found football. Fifty was messing with the web, in between spinning round. Bee didn’t seem to have
anything to say (odd). I was wishing I’d sat on the computer chair before Fifty so I could play the game I played last time.
The complete absence of anyone saying anything was interrupted by Jonno’s mum. She poked her head round the door, nodded towards the telly, raised her eyebrows, smiled, nodded towards
Fifty, who was going round quite fast, shook her head, and left with a beady jingle.
‘Copper Pie,’ said Jonno. No response. He said it again. ‘Copper Pie!’
C.P. answered without taking his eyes off the screen, which was about a nose-length from his nose.
‘What?’
‘Mum doesn’t agree with telly, unless it’s something she approves of, which means David Attenborough or the news.’
‘How come you’ve got a telly if that’s how she feels?’ I said.
‘To watch DVDs when they want me out of the way,’ said Jonno. ‘You’d better either turn it off or kill the volume.’
Copper Pie grunted, and muted.
Fifty slowed down.‘Do I need to get off the chair? I don’t think she approves of spinning either.’
‘No, don’t worry, she can’t see through walls, so you’re safe, unless she checks again.’
I was beginning to see that maybe Jonno’s mum wasn’t quite as fantastic as I thought she was. There seemed to be a lot of invisible rules that I was slowly discovering, like secret
writing in lemon juice slowly turning brown from the heat of a lamp (you must have tried it!).
Fifty hopped off the seat anyway, landed on two feet, immediately wobbled, nearly fell over, wobbled again and finally grabbed Bee.
‘All that spinning has affected your inner ear,’ she said.
Fifty let go, stood up, still weaving slightly from side to side, and made an announcement. ‘So, Tribe, despite the setback of the kangaroo court, has to find the answer to the mystery of
the missing medals. Are we all of the same mind?’ He does that occasionally – speaks like someone in a play.
‘Yep,’ said Jonno.
‘Don’t mind,’ I said. I meant ‘No’ but that didn’t seem the right answer. Copper Pie half turned round, opened his mouth, and then went straight back to stare
at the silent telly instead.
‘Well, if we don’t, it’ll seem like Tribe failed . . .’ said Bee.
‘Same,’ said Fifty.
A bit more silence. I remember thinking that after Jonno joined we’d never ever run out of ideas again. Seemed like I was wrong.
‘We either need to find the medals, or the thief,’ I said. To help things along.
‘We could offer a reward,’ said Jonno.
‘That could work.’ Bee pulled the pocket of her jacket out. ‘But we don’t have enough money.’ Bee never has any money.
‘Maybe we could get chatting to the ones in Flo’s class we didn’t interview and see what we find out.’ A useless suggestion from Fifty, but at least he
Tribe.’
We all said our names.
She smiled (again), put her earphones back in and went back to her writing. The beads in her hair made the same clackety-clack I remembered from the first time I met her. I waited for her to say
something else, maybe offer us a snack, or at least a drink . . . but she was obviously busy.
‘Come on.’ Jonno led us all upstairs to his room and I watched the faces of the Tribers as they clocked all his gear.
‘You are so lucky,’ said Bee.
Copper Pie put the telly on and started flicking channels. Fifty swivelled on the see-through plastic computer chair, with his feet dangling because they didn’t reach the floor. Bee had
her mouth wide open. She didn’t seem to know what to do. Jonno did.
‘Right, Tribers. Time for a new plan. We can’t interrogate the Year 3 bambinos so we’ll have to try something else. Ideas?’
Complete silence, except for the commentator yelling from the telly. Copper Pie had found football. Fifty was messing with the web, in between spinning round. Bee didn’t seem to have
anything to say (odd). I was wishing I’d sat on the computer chair before Fifty so I could play the game I played last time.
The complete absence of anyone saying anything was interrupted by Jonno’s mum. She poked her head round the door, nodded towards the telly, raised her eyebrows, smiled, nodded towards
Fifty, who was going round quite fast, shook her head, and left with a beady jingle.
‘Copper Pie,’ said Jonno. No response. He said it again. ‘Copper Pie!’
C.P. answered without taking his eyes off the screen, which was about a nose-length from his nose.
‘What?’
‘Mum doesn’t agree with telly, unless it’s something she approves of, which means David Attenborough or the news.’
‘How come you’ve got a telly if that’s how she feels?’ I said.
‘To watch DVDs when they want me out of the way,’ said Jonno. ‘You’d better either turn it off or kill the volume.’
Copper Pie grunted, and muted.
Fifty slowed down.‘Do I need to get off the chair? I don’t think she approves of spinning either.’
‘No, don’t worry, she can’t see through walls, so you’re safe, unless she checks again.’
I was beginning to see that maybe Jonno’s mum wasn’t quite as fantastic as I thought she was. There seemed to be a lot of invisible rules that I was slowly discovering, like secret
writing in lemon juice slowly turning brown from the heat of a lamp (you must have tried it!).
Fifty hopped off the seat anyway, landed on two feet, immediately wobbled, nearly fell over, wobbled again and finally grabbed Bee.
‘All that spinning has affected your inner ear,’ she said.
Fifty let go, stood up, still weaving slightly from side to side, and made an announcement. ‘So, Tribe, despite the setback of the kangaroo court, has to find the answer to the mystery of
the missing medals. Are we all of the same mind?’ He does that occasionally – speaks like someone in a play.
‘Yep,’ said Jonno.
‘Don’t mind,’ I said. I meant ‘No’ but that didn’t seem the right answer. Copper Pie half turned round, opened his mouth, and then went straight back to stare
at the silent telly instead.
‘Well, if we don’t, it’ll seem like Tribe failed . . .’ said Bee.
‘Same,’ said Fifty.
A bit more silence. I remember thinking that after Jonno joined we’d never ever run out of ideas again. Seemed like I was wrong.
‘We either need to find the medals, or the thief,’ I said. To help things along.
‘We could offer a reward,’ said Jonno.
‘That could work.’ Bee pulled the pocket of her jacket out. ‘But we don’t have enough money.’ Bee never has any money.
‘Maybe we could get chatting to the ones in Flo’s class we didn’t interview and see what we find out.’ A useless suggestion from Fifty, but at least he
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