The Curse of Captain Cross-eyed by Margaret Ryan Page B

up like the other paperboys. I was also determined to show everyone I was telling the truth about the pirate. The question was,
how
?

Chapter Three

    The idea came to me as I was getting dressed the following morning.
    â€œIt’s simple,” I said. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”
    I would take my mobile phone and photograph Captain Cross-eyed when I handed over his paper. Then I’d have a picture to prove my story was true.
    The only problem was I’d then have to take my phone to school, and Miss Dodds had banned them. One morning, everyone in the class had played the ‘psycho’ ring tone when she’d arrived. BIG MISTAKE. Still, if my phone was switched off, she’d never know, would she?
    I grabbed a quick bowl of cereal, dodging the bits of soggy crusts Ellie threw at me. Then I set off for Mr Maini’s.
    He was busy in the back of the shop when I arrived and gave me a wave as I collected my papers. “Perhaps you’ll see dinosaurs in Weir Street today, Jonny Smith,” he laughed.
    I felt for my phone and switched it on. Just wait, Mr Maini, you’ll see, I thought.
    But he didn’t, and neither did I.
    When I arrived at number 13, I was all ready to take the photo, but there was no sign of Captain Cross-eyed. Or his parrot. Or his cat.
    I knocked at the door.
    Nothing.
    I knocked at the door again.
    Still nothing. I even sneaked round to the back garden.
    No one. Unless you counted the gardengnome fishing beside the wheelie bin.
    Disappointed, I left the paper under a large stone and went on my way. So much for my big idea. But I wasn’t late for school, so Miss Dodds wasn’t able to give me a telling off … till my phone rang.
    â€œThere’s an ice-cream van in the playground!” cried Peter Ho.
    Everyone rushed to the window to look. Everyone except me. I knew my ring tone when I heard it. I gasped and quickly switched off my phone.

    But I was too late. Miss Dodds had spotted me. “Sit down, everyone,” she ordered. “Jonny Smith, bring that phone over here. You know I do not allow them in the classroom. I hope there’s a good reason why you have it with you.”
    I could hardly tell her I was hoping to photograph the pirate she didn’t believe I’d seen yesterday, could I?
    So I didn’t.
    â€œNo good reason,” I said instead.
    â€œVery well. The phone will stay in my desk for the rest of the week, and you will spend your break doing an extra maths exercise.”

    That meant no football practice
again
. The other boys in the team glared at me.
    â€œSorry,” I mouthed. I sighed. I’d be lucky to play in the final at this rate.
    Sara and Surinder looked at me sympathetically, and at break, they stayed behind to help me with the maths.
    â€œWhy did you bring your phone in?” asked Sara. “You know how crazy Miss Dodds went about the ‘psycho’ thing.”
    â€œI wanted to get a photo of the pirate in Weird Street,” I muttered.
    â€œYou’re not
still
on about that, are you?” said Surinder. “Pirates live in books, or in films, not in a street near you, Jonny.”
    â€œThis one does,” I insisted. “He lives in Weird Street and I’ll prove it. Just you wait and see.”
    I thought about the problem all day. I even thought about it during football practice after school. Which was a mistake.
    â€œSmith! Keep your eye on the ball,” yelled Mr McGregor, our coach. “You’re playing like a big tumshie.”
    Tumshie is the Scottish word for turnip, so clearly Mr McGregor wasn’t very pleased with me. But it was worse than that.

    â€œWhat’s up with you, laddie?” he asked after the game. “Have you forgotten what your feet are for?”
    â€œNo,” I muttered. “Just got something on my mind.”
    â€œWell, get it off your mind or you’re off the team. O.K.?”
    Very much
not
O.K. I