The Mean Girl Who Never Speaks
Zuni Blue
Copyright
Copyright 2013 - Zahra Brown (pseudonym: 'Zuni Blue')
All rights reserved.
License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold, or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and you did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
www.zuniblue.com
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CONTENTS
The Mean Girl Who Never Speaks
Dear Reader
About the Author
Dedications
This book is written in British English.
****
The Mean Girl Who Never Speaks
In London, England, you'll find Detective Inspector Mya Dove. With two years' experience on the force, this six year old is on her way to being the best police officer ever.
Yes. The best. Her mummy said so.
To inspire other kids, she's sharing case files.
Case No.1: The Mean Girl Who Never Speaks
Monday
The week started like any other...boring!
Maths. I thought it was bad last year, but it's worse now. I miss adding up and taking away. Now you've gotta multiply and divide.
"No calculator allowed," Mrs. Cherry said. "You've got to use your heads!"
How? It was a cold, rainy morning. We could've been in bed if we were adults. Not fair! I knew my big brother Will was still sleeping. Not fair!
I can't wait 'til I'm fifteen. Then I'll get to go out by myself too. You can't be a proper officer with your dad holding your hand. Everyone at the police station will laugh at you.
Back to that Monday morning...
"Hey." Someone poked my back. "I've got a case!"
When Mrs. Cherry wasn't looking, I quickly took the note and slipped it into my pencil case. It was my favourite case. The skinny, black one. Same colour as my hair. When people see it, they take me more seriously. They used to laugh at my pink case with the flowers.
"Is there a problem?" Mrs. Cherry asked, her eyes on me. "This is not a group exercise."
"I sneezed. He gave me a tissue."
"I didn't hear you sneeze..." She raised her bushy, red eyebrows. Whenever she did that, she had lots of wrinkles. I heard she was thirty, but the wrinkles made her look really, really old, like forty or something.
"Can I go to the toilet, please?" I asked, giving my saddest face. "I've really gotta go!"
She nodded, and the eyebrows went down.
I put the note in my pocket and walked to the toilet. Walking is so slow, but running got me in trouble last time.
"Health and Safety," Mr. Baker had said. "You could trip over and fall."
I had to listen to him. He's in charge. The Head Teacher. If I solve enough cases, he might give me a job. Then I'll get paid. Then I can buy lots of chocolate and sweets.
Don't worry. You can have some.
Usually the toilets were stinky. I've never done a poo at school, but someone there has. Lucky for me, my fellow officer had sprayed perfume before I got there. Now I could smell poo and flowers.
Flowery poo.
I went into the toilet and locked the door- people don't knock nowadays - and stomped my foot three times.
The person next door stomped twice.
Then I stomped once.
"Read the note?" she whispered.
I took it out. Here's what it said:
To Detective Inspector Mya Dove,
We have a case.
There's a new girl at school. Her name is Libby Smith. On her first day, she looked okay. Her mum talked to other mums. Her dad talked to your dad. Her big sis talked to Mrs. Cherry.
But...Libby's mean. She hasn't said anything yet, but she's obviously mean. That's why she still doesn't have any friends and she's been here for ages (two weeks!).
We wanna be fair, so we want you to confirm she's mean. If she is, we'll start warning the others. If she isn't, we'll stop the rumours we didn't start.
Your reward will be a bag of grapes.
Okay, okay...I lied.
I like choc and sweets, but what I really love are grapes. The green ones. I can't eat too many because they make me poo a lot. Not just any poo. They're sloppy ones that shoot out. Then I have to clean the toilet AND wash my hands.
Too much work.
"Are they the green ones?"
"White grapes."
"No," I snapped. "The green ones."
"Yeah, white grapes!"
"Look, Officer whoever, I am not the detective inspector for no reason! Don't try and trick me!" I tried not to cry. "Maybe YOU are the meanie!"
She dropped the bag and slid it across the floor.
There in a plastic bag were ten juicy GREEN grapes. So round. So firm. So mine.
"Another grape and we've got a deal."
"Done!" She reached under her side into mine and held out her hand.
"Wash your hands first," I said. "If I catch germs, I'll be sick. I can't work if I'm sick."
"But you'll have a week off. Think about it. Cartoons, brekkie in bed, and no homework."
She had a point...
"I can't. Just get my extra grape...and find out who keeps doing a poo in here!"
"I'll look into it..." She sprayed more perfume. "Excuse me."
I returned to class. Mrs. Cherry raised an eyebrow at my grape, but said nothing. When you get to my position, teachers stop asking questions.
That's power.
Every good investigator needs help. It doesn't mean my source wasn't good. Doesn't mean I'm not good either. Just needed some help, that's all...
The source said there was another officer on the case, just in case I needed help. For security reasons, my source couldn't give his name. You never know who might be listening in the toilets!
"Check the pitch," she'd said. "You'll know him when you see him."
That was easier said than done. There were thirty boys playing football (you might call it soccer). I stayed on the side, looking out for him, but that's hard when you don't know who you're looking for!
Was he the boy keeping score? That would be a great way to stay undercover. Our teams suck, so it's always a tie: 0-0. That means he could watch out for bad guys instead.
Was he the goalie? No wonder they fell asleep. Football is boring when no one scores! But then he could pick out bad guys and suspects. Why not? He had nothing else to do. Plus the money would be handy when he got new trainers. They'd make him play better so he could be a proper player. Sorry, but I don't think the goalie is that important.
Or was he the spotty, white boy with a cap? He kept slowing down when he passed me. Then he ran to the water fountain and drank for a very long time. He wiped his mouth and stared at me. And stared. And stared.
Nah, I thought. Not him.
"Over here!" he shouted, waving me over. "Hello!"
I took a football and ran over to him. He said, "I'm Jimmy! What's your--"
"Great game!" I shouted. "Any good tips?"
"What're you doing?"
"Act natural!"
"Okay..." He shrugged. "Needed a drink."
"Any tips?"
"Not here," he said. "The enemy can hear us."
He pu
lled me behind the goal and held out his sweaty hand.
You shouldn't pay out your personal account unless you have to. I had to. You might have to at some point, but it's okay. Keep the receipts and your boss will pay you back!
I gave him five pence.
"Ten," he said, "or I'm telling!"
Typical!
I gave him another five pence and he held it up to the sun. Then he bit it hard and cried out when his tooth popped out.
"It's real." He put them in his trainer. "Who's your suspect?"
"Libby Smith."
"Libby Sam Smith or Libby Charlie Smith or--"
"I don't friggin' know! Why'd you think I paid you?"
"When'd she get here?"
"Two weeks ago."
"On probation?"
"No."
"A girl?"
"No," I said.
"Dunno, then." He walked off, so I ran after him and pulled him back.
"I was being sarcastic," I said. "Of course Libby's a girl!"
"I take my job very seriously." He glared at me. "You should too."
Ouch! That hurt a little...
He took my hand and led me down the playground. People were staring, but I didn't care. His hand felt so soft. I liked holding it.
"We're gonna walk past her," he said. "Act natural."
"Yeah..." I squeezed his hand tighter and we walked a bit faster. There was a girl straight ahead, her eyes on us. Then she looked away. She stared at the ground when we went past, but I still felt her watching me.
Then he let go.
"You saw her?"
"Yeah..."
"If you need help again, let me know. My fees start at ten pence to a pound."
What a rip off!
"A pound? For what?"
"Anything that could get me in serious trouble." He whispered, "Remember when Baker's office flooded? Remember the rat in his desk drawer? Remember when the exams almost got cancelled?"
"Wow...Thanks to you, I had time to study!"
"Just give me a sign, okay?" He ran off back to the pitch and almost scored.
The suspect was Libby Smith.
Her hair was afro like mine but she'd straightened it. She didn't have any pretty bows like Angel's. The only pretty thing was her yellow dress. It was like my bridesmaid dress at my cousin's wedding.
Maybe she had lots of money? A rich snob like Angel was probably mean. But her hair was so plain! Maybe to make us think she's normal. Then she could pretend to be nice.
She didn't have any toys. No balls. No hula hoops. Nothing. All she did was stand in the middle of the playground, looking around.
But she wasn't looking for anyone.
Whenever someone looked at her, she looked away. It was always after they smiled at her.
Why didn't she smile back?
Tuesday
Teachers are so nosy. We can't do anything without them getting involved. That's why playtime and P.E. (physical education, remember?) are the best times to investigate.
I don't see why it's physical EDUCATION. I don't learn anything when I kick a ball around.
But, back to the P.E. lesson...
It was time to choose teams. I'm so popular that everyone wants me on their team. They know the police have to keep fit so we can chase the bad guys.
"Mya, over here!"
"No! Come here!" That was Angel. She's evil. She wants my position on the force, but she can't have it because it's mine!
I didn't listen to any of them. Today, I was pairing up with one person: Libby Smith.
I found her at the back of the gym. She was picking at a skipping rope. When I stood next to her, she froze.
"Hello, Libby," I said. "I'm Mya."
She mumbled something and turned away.
How mean!
"I said, hello!" I snapped. "Say it back!"
She walked away. I followed her to the teacher, who took her out. Mrs. Cherry said something and I thought I heard Libby cry.
"She's faking it," Angel whispered. "Crybabies go home early."
If Angel said Libby was bad, Libby was REALLY bad. Until Libby came, Angel was the meanest person at school.
That's why I didn't want to be her friend.
Police officers aren't friends with bad guys. If Mr. Baker found out, I'd never get a job and never get paid.
It was a small world.
If word got around about me hanging out with bad guys like Angel, I'd never work ANYWHERE again. Not England, America, China, Australia or India. Nowhere.
I'd have to live with Will forever.
No way!
Angel was so pretty, though. She had curly blonde hair like they do on TV. Her cheeks were always pink. It made her look so sweet. Her mum gets her the prettiest dresses.
I don't look like people on TV.
I'm black. My hair is afro, really long and bushy. My cheeks don't change colour ever. None of me does. When I'm officially qualified, I'll be the first black officer at my school. Will said that's cool.
I don't care, though. I just want my green grapes.
"She never says good morning or goodbye," Angel said. "She doesn't answer the register either. She doesn't answer questions in class. I forgot she was there! Mrs. Cherry did too. Almost locked Libby in the classroom. I bet she would've said something then!"
"Can she talk?" I asked.
"Yes, but I don't know what she's saying...I bet she's talking about me!" Angel flicked her curls. "All you jealous girls do!"
Wednesday
Libby wasn't there.
I looked all over the playground. Yes, I checked under the climbing frame. Yes, I checked in the playhouse. Yes, I checked behind the tree. She wasn't playing ball games with the boys and Sam, the tomboy. She wasn't with the girls playing with the hula hoops.
She wasn't there.
"She's hiding," I told myself. "I'll catch her in class."
But she wasn't there either!
Her desk was empty. Her drawer was empty, but her name tag was still on it. That meant she was coming back.
One last place to check...
The toilets. Where else can you get some privacy around here? No one bothers you in there. That's why I write up my cases in there.
I even have my own DO NOT DISTURB EVER sign.
I added the ever myself.
She wasn't there either, but my fellow officer was.
I stomped three times.
She stomped twice.
I stomped once.
"Is she mean?" she asked.
"She doesn't smile or play with everyone else or talk in proper English, but..." I tried to say she was mean. I had all the proof I needed. All I had to do was write up my report. Then the officer would take the case to trial. Libby would be found guilty - duh! - but...why did that make me feel so bad?
"Hurry up!" she shouted. "I've got Science in ten!"
"I need more time."
"No way! You've had since Monday! If we're not done by Friday, I'll have to work over the weekend. I hate that..."
"One final test," I said. "By tomorrow, we'll know how mean she is...if she is."
Thursday
A good officer always thinks ahead. When the suspect relaxes, they slip up. Then the officer catches them in a trap.
But I didn't have a trap.
What I did have was warning of today's test. It always happened at the end of term before the holidays. No one but me and Angel liked doing it, but Mrs. Cherry made sure everyone did.
A speech.
Angel loved giving speeches. For a whole five minutes, she was the centre of attention. We had to look at her. We had to listen. Ignoring a speech lost points off your mark. So far I had straight As.
I intended to keep it that way.
But, back to the case...
Mrs. Cherry took names out a hat. That person went next. No exceptions. In the past, people had tried to go later. "I forgot my speech," one said. "My fish ate mine," a girl said. "I'm gonna be sick!"
He was.
The point is, Mrs. Cherry said whoever got picked had to go up next. If not, you got a U grade. The U means Ungradable. Yep, you fail!
The plan was simple: Make sure Mrs. Cherry takes Libby's name out the hat. Then Libby would have to say something to us or she would fail her first test.
In the playground, it was after lunch. Mrs. Cherry's English lesson was next. Usually it was hard to pay attention because her eyebrows are so bushy. They dance around because she's so excited when she reads books. Sometimes they look like two hamsters wiggling over her eyes.
I like hamsters.
"Jimmy!" I shouted. "Now!"
Jimmy took the ball and kicked it as far as he could. It flew over the fence and bounced off the cars. Their alarms were so noisy!
"What on earth?" Mrs. Tipple scurried over. She could move so fast because she was so tiny. We'd thought she was a student when she first got here, but when we saw her smoking in the car park, we knew the truth. "Everyone, line up!"
Libby was first in line, but I wasn't fooled. Obviously she thought that sucking up to teachers would raise her position.
Smart girl.
But I was smarter.
I snuck inside and waited in the toilets. When the other teachers ran outside, I raced upstairs to Mrs. Cherry's classroom. I knocked, just in case, but no one answered, so I went in.
Empty classrooms are so creepy, and so tidy. I always feel like someone's there, hiding under a desk, waiting to jump out and say, "Boo!"
And it's so hard to be good...I could take all the tracing paper I like, all the glitter, all the pretty card paper, and even move the clock forwards a bit.
Just a bit...
It wasn't worth it, though. If I got a criminal record, I'd never work in any town in any job ever again.
But, back to the case...
My pencil case was right in the drawer where I'd left it. Behind it was a plastic bag full of names Will had printed off for me. In return, he was taking half my grapes. "Because you need me," he'd said, "so pay up or shut up."
Cow!
Keeping down, I crept over to Mrs. Cherry's desk and pulled out her drawer. Usually she locked it, but this time it was open. She'd gone in hurry!
At the back, under notepads and the register folder, was the hat. Will said it's really a cap, but so what! The dark blue, floppy cap had thirty names inside, mine on top. I tipped them in the bin and put my names in the hat.