Googol Boy and the peculiar incident of the Great Quiz Trophy by John Michael (good short books .TXT) 📗

himself as he disappeared back into the hedge, dragging his rake behind him.

The principal turned towards us and looked rather solemn. “Now back to the matter at hand!”

“Yes sir,” we responded.

Mr Ditherington stroked his chin. “What were we talking about exactly?”

“The bell sir,” we answered in unison.

“Ah yes... most certainly. Missed the bell? How does one miss the bell?”

We both shrugged our shoulders and followed through with a blank stare. In reply, the principal also shrugged his shoulders, stared back at us, and then rubbed his chin again. “Unless of course one misses the bell because it hasn’t rung or perhaps we should consider a scenario where a bell rings but no one is around to hear it. My question to you is this, does it still make a sound? Most certainly, does a bluebird’s warble still echo across the field if no one can appreciate it? Does the wind whistle through the trees if no one notices it? But then again, whistling is no easy task as many are incapable of carrying a tune so why should we expect more of the wind?”

Barney and I stared at the principal in perplexed silence.

“Well then?” he added. “I await the answer which you shall bestow.”

I had lost track of what Mr Ditherington was saying, I didn’t even realise that he had asked a question. There was something at the end about whistling, then a bit on bluebirds, there was definitely something about wind. Listening to the principal was often confusing and exhausting and was like getting hit in the head with a frying pan, I would always end up with a headache. I was just going to have to take a stab in the dark.

“Um... I would say... it’s the... um... the um...” I stuttered.

“It’s the food,” interjected Barney.

“Ah... yes... the food,” I repeated hesitantly. Of course, when it came to Barney, food was always the answer.

“Very well then. Most certainly!” stated the principal as he nodded. “I remember a time when housemaids and butlers would stir into action with the tinkle of a bell and bring out the mulligatawny soup, fricandeau of veal with piquant sauce and the blancmange. But then you also have the parish bells tolling night and day to denote that one has passed away. Perhaps it is best never to know for whom the bell tolls.”

“I do think that the bell has in fact already rung sir,” I replied, wanting to get away from the principal and get to our first lesson.

“It has rung?” he queried with a puzzled look on his face.

“Yes Principal Ditherington,” we chimed in unison.

“Oh, very good then, of course, most certainly, most certainly,” stated the principal as he tugged on his ear.

“Yes sir,” we nodded.

“Well then, why are you still here? Skedaddle! Scoot!” he exclaimed as he shooed us away with both of his hands. Barney and I quickly took off down the pathway at a brisk pace to get to our morning class.

“Barn... what do you think?”

“What do I think?” panted Barney, “I think that Mr Ditherington jibbers and jabbers... I didn’t understand a word he was saying.”

“Yes, I agree... I wish that he would get to the point –”

“Or at least have a point!”

“Yes exactly. And what do you think about the burglary.”

“Well... isn’t it a blessing in disguise?”

“What do you mean?”

“With the trophy gone at least you won’t have to go up against Savani in the Great Quiz. She scares me.”

“You’ll be alright big fella,” I responded as I gave Barney a friendly nudge. “I guess you can add her to your list of all-time scary things –you’ve got spiders, clowns, piglets and now... Savani!”

“Howard! No need to jinx me!” cried Barney as he trembled, he then had a quick look over his shoulder to make sure that an unholy army of spiders, clowns, piglets and Savanis weren’t chasing him.

“Sorry Barney... but you’re right about the trophy... I didn’t even think about that... she sure is going to be angry when she finds out!”

“Who would steal a school trophy anyway?” queried Barney.

Suddenly, I felt the cogs starting to whir in my brain and I was seeing evidence, clues and signs which had not been obvious to me beforehand. I saw images of doors and splinters and smells and footprints floating in my mind like jigsaw puzzle pieces waiting to be put together.

“Yes, good question Barney, by the way, did you notice the door?”

“Door? Which door?”

“The front door of the school of course.”

“I dunno... it was smashed in... what about it?”

“Not smashed in Barn... smashed out!”

“Smashed out?”

“Did you notice the splinters of timber... they were all pointing outwards... and what about the flakes?”

“Slow down Howie!” wheezed Barney as he tried to keep up.

“Come on Barney we’re already late − Mr Perriman’s gonna go berserk!”

“I’m trying,” he huffed. “What flakes are you talking about?”

“The slivers of grey paint were all scattered on the outside stairs, not in the foyer.”

“I don’t get it... my head hurts.”

“Barney...whoever did this was already inside!”

“I still don’t get it... and my feet hurt as well”

“And did you pick up on that distinct odour?” “Odour?”

“Yes... of sulphur.”

“Sulphur?”

“Yes... it was like a rotten egg smell!”

“Well... I didn’t want to say anything... um... but... um... that was me. When Red popped out of nowhere... I got anxious and let a silent one go.

“Hmm... thanks a lot... but the smell I’m referring to was more of a pungent odour and less, well less Barney.”

“So, who was responsible then?”

“Did you notice the large footprints on the stairs? Whoever smashed the door down would have to have been a hefty size.”

“I see... but who would stoop so low as to steal that money? It was for those poor orphans!”

Presumptions and assumptions were swirling around in my head like dry leaves on a blustery autumn day. I just couldn’t make sense of all the information and evidence.

“Hmm... I haven’t figured that one out Barney. There’s more to this than meets the eye, that’s for sure... that tall moustachioed policeman was