The Trophy Trap

  Chapter Three

  Next morning, when Liam was downstairs eating breakfast, Abby peered into his room. The trophy had vanished from the shelf.

  Well, of course, she told herself. I’d hide it too.

  She smiled evilly and crept away again. Liam had football practice after school. She would be home before him, with at least an hour to search the house and find that trophy.

  During the day at school, she began to make a list of all the places it could be. In the wardrobe, or on top of it. Under the bed. Behind the curtain.

  But these were all obvious places. Liam was better than that...

  “Abby? Just what are you doing?”

  Miss Lewis stood over her table. Abby closed her project book.

  Miss Lewis picked her book up and reopened it. “This is not a diagram of a river,” she said.

  “No. It’s a map of my house.”

  “Does your house suffer from erosion of its banks, Abby? Does it meander? Does it have an ox-bow lake?”

  “No,” said Abby. “It has about a hundred hiding places for a trophy. You see, my brother–”

  “I don’t need to know about your brother, Abby.” With one swift, practised movement, Miss Lewis ripped the page out of her book. “Now,” she said. “Start again on the clean page. With a river.”

  Abby started again. Although it wasn’t yet half-term, her project book was already considerably thinner than Kate’s. Kate had never had a page ripped out.

  “Copy mine,” Kate whispered.

  “Thanks,” said Abby. She sketched the river. Along its meandering and eroded banks, she wrote: Airing cupboard. Toilet cistern. Under the bath??

  “Does the side of your bath come unscrewed?” she asked Kate.

  “What?”

  “The wooden bit.”

  Kate looked bewildered. “I don’t have a wooden bit.”

  “Never mind.” Abby added to the river, Behind the water tank!!

  Maya put her hand up. “Miss Lewis?” she called. “Miss?”

  “Don’t bother,” Abby said. “I can tear it out myself.”