The Mean Girl Who Never Speaks Page 2

  By "names" I really mean name. You'll see...

  Back downstairs I ran to the toilet. I waited in there until I heard everyone going to class. Then I slipped out and followed the line upstairs.

  "Take your seats quickly," Mrs. Cherry snapped. "No time-wasting! Hurry!" She wiped the whiteboard, getting ink on her hand. I ran up and offered her a tissue.

  Why? you ask. Because I had to.

  A good police officer gets along with the public. You never know when you might need their help. Having a teacher on my side might get me a job quicker. Why wait twenty years when I could serve my country now?

  And grapes don't pay the bills...

  "Thank you." She blew her nose and went to the bin. That's when I realised my huge mistake!

  She'd see the names. She'd check the hat. She'd check the cameras outside and see me sneaking in. She'd give me detention. She'd tell my dad. He'd tell my mum. She'd kill me!

  "Mrs. Cherry!" I held out my hand. "Can I have it back, please?"

  She laughed, so I asked again. She stopped laughing then.

  "But, why?" she asked. "I've used it!"

  "I...want to recycle it."

  "You cannot recycle a used tissue." She dabbed her pointy nose again, her hamster eyebrows twitching. "Didn't you do your recycling homework?"

  "I...don't have anymore."

  "Then go to the toilet and get some." She turned back to the bin, so I ran ahead and held out my hand again. "Mya Dove, go and sit down!"

  "My mum gave me that tissue. You know she's a night nurse, right?" I forced out a tear. "I don't see her all day because I'm at school. At night, she's at work. She takes care of the babies...The tissue had her perfume on it."

  "For when you miss her..." Her eyes were watery, so tears were coming soon. That meant my plan was working. "Okay, Mya. Here you are, darling." She placed the soggy tissue in my hand. I wanted to drop it, but I had to hold on tight. "Please, sit down."

  I couldn't be sick or she'd put the speeches off. Thinking of my juicy grapes, I held on until I got to my seat. Then a bit longer because Cherry was still watching. All I could do was pray that big booger stuck to my hand didn't dry there.

  "Class, today is the big day!" Cherry started writing on the whiteboard. I watched Libby's face as she read the word speech. She bit her lip and looked down at her desk. Her body was shaking, and I could hear her teeth chattering. People said she was mean, but still...she looked like she needed a big hug.

  "Remember," Cherry said, "this exercise will be graded. It is five per cent of your total mark for the year. Everyone will do the speech. No exceptions will be made..." Her eyes stopped on Libby, who was sweating. "Exceptions will be made in exceptional circumstances."

  Everyone looked back at Libby, who was sweating so much her hair was wet. It was sticking to her face. She started rocking back and forth, like she would pass out.

  "Who is going first?" Cherry took out the hat and looked away while her hand felt around inside. She pulled out a name, frowning when she saw it. "Libby Smith?"

  Libby froze. She held on to the desk, sweating more and more.

  "Class, Libby was not told about the speech. We will give her more time."

  Cherry reached in again and pulled out the next name. Again, her smile went away. She turned bright pink, now sweating herself.

  "...Libby Smith?"

  "Mrs. Cherry," Angel said, standing up, "you said no exceptions. It's not fair if Libby skips her speech! If she does, so do I!"

  There were a few quiet voices that agreed with her. I wasn't one of them.

  "Yes..." Cherry motioned to the front, and Libby stood up. She slowly went up and stood with her back against the whiteboard. Tears ran down her face, her lips shaking. She mumbled something.

  "Scaredy-cat!" Angel shouted. "Didn't want to play? Bet you're sorry now!"

  Libby ran out in tears. Mrs. Cherry stormed over and shouted at Angel. The class whispered to each other, a few eyes on me. Jimmy came over and took me to the back window.

  "Not cool," he said. "You said she's another mean girl!"

  "My secret source said so! I just do my job."

  "I hope the sweets are worth it..."

  Back home, I felt even worse. Not knowing if Libby was okay made me feel very guilty. All that sweating and crying wasn't a mean girl thing to me.

  "Dad?" I knocked on the garage door. "I need your help with a case."

  "Anytime, Officer D--"

  "Detective Inspector Mya Dove." If Will hadn't broken my badge, I would've shown it. "Open up!"

  The door was open, but officers need permission to go on other people's land. If I didn't follow the law, the evidence wouldn't be accepted in court. Then my career might be over.

  "Mya, come in."

  I rushed downstairs and stopped by the car. The bonnet was up and the engine was growling like Will's cat. My dad's legs were poking out from under the car. I squeezed his shoe and he laughed.

  Remember, officers must work with the public. If my dad didn't trust me, I'd lose his expertise. He's old - forty-five - so he's got lots of experience at everything, mostly fixing cars.

  "Sorry, detective, I couldn't pick you up because this darn car is playing up." He knocked something metal and the car hissed. "Did Will get there on time?"

  "He was two minutes late! I could've been anywhere when he finally got there!"

  "Apologies, inspector. How can I help the case?"

  "Everything you say will be confidential, but if we go to court, you'll have to testify."

  "I accept those terms."

  "Mr. Dove, two weeks ago, a new girl came to school. She was accused of being what the kids call a mean cow, mean for short. Do you follow?"

  "No," he said. "What did she do?"

  "She didn't smile at people, even when they smiled at her. Mean!"

  "Not really. Some people are just very serious. They don't smile a lot, but they're still nice...if you give them a fair chance."

  I thought about it. Did we give her a fair chance? She'd had three weeks, but that wasn't that long. Maybe she needed more time?

  Dad had a point - maybe the "evidence" was wrong. Her not smiling didn't mean she was mean. Maybe she was just a bit...

  "Shy," Dad said. "Does she spend most of her time alone?"

  Every day in the playground she was alone. In the lunch hall, she sat alone. In P.E. she sat out every game. After school that day, she'd walked out alone.

  Was she alone at home right now?

  "We've got shy people in class, but they talk when you talk to them. She just mumbled and cried."

  Dad rolled out and sat up. He looked sad. I wiped the oil off his cheek.

  "Detective, do you remember your cousin Ebony?"

  Nope.

  "She sounds like your friend--"

  "Libby isn't my friend."

  "Do not interrupt. It is rude!" He pulled me down onto his lap. "Ebony has Social Anxiety, just like Libby."

  "So, she's shy?"

  "It is more serious than shyness." He took out his mobile phone from his overalls and went online. "Here. Let me show you..."

  Friday

  Mrs. Cherry stood up and took out the hat. She pulled out a name and looked over at me. I went to the whiteboard and took out my speech.

  Everyone groaned.

  Okay, usually I talk about the police. There's so much to say! How to put on handcuffs, how not to lose the key (very important!), how to plan an investigation, how to interrogate a witness without being scary. Sure, sometimes I talked about similar stuff, but what can I say? I love my job!

  I had my speech all typed up with the headings in yellow highlights. I'd timed it to finish in four minutes, so I'd have a minute for questions. I'd even brought pictures from a real police case. It was the case of a thief at the local sweet shop. He took ten chocolates before he was caught!

  But then I saw Libby.

  She was at the back, looking at her pencil case. She looked at me for a sec
ond and looked away again. The longer I looked at her, the guiltier I felt.

  She was sad because of me.

  "Mya?" Cherry asked. "Is there a problem?"

  I shook my head and then nodded. Feeling guilty sucks. The only way to shake off that feeling is to put things right.

  But how?

  "I was going to talk about the sweet shop robbery--"

  "Again?" Angel snapped, rolling her eyes.

  "I have photos this time!" Oh, I hate her so much! "And a witness statement!"

  "So, Mya, why the change of heart?" Cherry glanced at the clock. "It is a tad late to change your topic now."

  "I'm gonna wing it." I was shaking, but not because speeches are a bit scary. I'd had straight As so far and didn't wanna lose my perfect record to someone like Angel.

  She'd love that!

  "Today I am going to talk about social anxiety," I said. "Social anxiety is like shyness but bigger. Much bigger! It makes normal people like you and me really nervous when they do stuff with others like answering the teacher, asking for help or looking you in the eye. Some of them find it hard to even smile!"

  Libby was watching me. I think I saw a tiny, tiny smile.

  "Shyness goes away by itself - anxiety doesn't. People with social anxiety need help, but the anxiety makes it hard for them to ask." I looked Libby right in the eye. She needed to hear this. "We must be patient, extra patient, with these people. They're not mean. They're nervous. Running away from us doesn't mean they don't like us. Being alone just makes them feel better...but that doesn't help the anxiety."

  "So, Mya, what would help?" Cherry asked. Everyone leaned in to hear my answer.

  "Social anxiety is about fear of being with people. They think they'll mess things up if they say something. We've gotta show them there's nothing to be scared of. When they talk, listen. When they need time alone, let them, but say it's okay to come back when they're ready."

  "Yeah, whatever," Angel mumbled. "Maybe SHE just doesn't like us!"

  "And stop judging people," I snapped. "It's dumb."

  "YOU did it too!"

  "Yes, and I'm sorry." I winked at Libby. "If anyone here needs help, I'll be there."

  "But--"

  "Enough, Angel," Cherry said. "Does anyone have any questions?"

  Jimmy put his hand up.

  "Okay, yeah, so how do we know one when we see one?"

  "One?" I glared at him and he blushed.

  "A socially anxious person?"

  "They might be serious, loners, mumblers, quiet, and do what you do when you're really scared."

  "I'm never scared," Jimmy said, "but when my...friend's scared, he's shaky. Doesn't talk right like his throat is all tight. He might sweat a bit."

  "Good question," Cherry said, writing something down. "Anyone else?"

  Angel put her hand up.

  "Anyone else?" I asked.

  "Mya!" Cherry tutted. "Go on, Angel."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Cherry." Angel blushed and then turned to me, her eyes cold. "Mya?"

  "What?"

  Mrs. Cherry tapped her ruler on the desk. If it was a normal work day, I would've told Angel what I think of her, but I was going for an A and no one's stopping me now!

  "Yes, Angel?" I said like the sweetest girl in the world. "How can I help you?"

  "Why can't SHE just get over it? Like, who's scared of talking? Losers!" She laughed. No one else did. "What a scaredy-cat!"

  Libby rested her head on the desk. Her paper was damp with tears.

  Look, I respect my job. Jobs. I know what it takes to be a great police officer. I'm working on being a good student. Still, there are times when life gets in the way. You've gotta choose justice over jobs.

  "Angel, first, her name's Libby, not SHE!" I marched over to Angel, so tempted to pull her hair, but it wasn't worth it. "Second, she can't just get over it, but she will beat it with our help! We've all got fears. Hers is speaking. Mine is spiders. Angel, yours is--"

  "Don't say it!" She sank under the table. "I trusted you!"

  "Bunnies."

  Everyone, even Libby, burst out laughing.

  "You don't get it," Angel whispered, still under the desk. "The fluffy tail...The whiskers...That cute thing. It's a trick!"

  "Okay..."

  I left her there and went to Libby. I pulled her to her feet and gave her a hug.

  "Thank you," she mumbled.

  "Libby, we'll help you. We understand if you're not ready for a speech yet. We'll help you practise speaking louder. If you can't answer questions yet, we'll tell Mrs. Cherry and she'll come over to you."

  Mrs. Cherry nodded.

  "We've got six years left here. Lots of time to help you!" I gave her another hug and returned to my desk. Everyone but you-know-who clapped for me. Then they turned to Libby and clapped for her too.

  She smiled.

  "Mrs. Cherry?" I said. She hurried over and bent down beside me and Libby. "We've finished early. Can I go pee?"

  "When you are done, go straight to lunch."

  Libby waved goodbye and I skipped off to the toilets.

  I wanted to run so badly, but you know how it is...

  My source was in the loo. After our stomping code, I reached under the stall and held out my hand. Lunch was next, and I couldn't wait to eat my juicy GREEN grapes. So bouncy, so sweet, so--

  "Um, hello!" My hand was still empty. "Give it!"

  "No." She flushed. "No payment."

  "Why?" I didn't want to cry, but...

  "Your case was about proving Libby Smith is mean or nice."

  "Yeah, so..."

  "With that anxiety thing, we still don't know!"

  "We'll know in a few months," I said, my stomach grumbling. "She's only been in my class for a month!"

  "The deal is off."

  You shouldn't argue with your boss, or the person who knows your boss, but these were grapes we're talking about. I'd been looking forward to them for a whole week!

  "Not even my bonus grape? Come on! That's not fair!"

  "Fine. Take it."

  The brownest, squidgiest grape I'd ever seen rolled across the floor. It stopped by some damp toilet tissue.

  "Eat up," she said. "Don't waste good food!"

  ####

  Dear Reader

  Hello, I hope you enjoyed my work. Now the story is over, here are three things to consider. It'll only take around five minutes, and I'd really appreciate you taking a look.

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  3. Keep reading!

  If you enjoyed this book, why not try another? Here's what I recommend:

  The Missing Hamster Who Didn't Escape

  The Mya Dove Case Files continue with The Missing Hamster Who Didn't Escape, a crime short story. The best school hamster in the world is missing! Where did he go, and why? The teachers know but they're not telling. If Mya doesn't solve the case by Friday afternoon, Malcolm might be gone forever...

  About the Author

  Zuni Blue's been telling tales since she was a kid. Now she gets to mix fun stories with a few lessons learnt on the way to adulthood. Whether it's solving cases at school or fighting monsters, Zuni promises a great read you'll never forget!

  Pen Names:

  Zia Black www.ziablack.com (crime and thrillers)

  Zhané White www.zhanewhite.com (fantasy and science fiction)

  Zada Green www.zadagreen.com (sarcastic
self-help and general fiction)

  Zuni Blue www.zuniblue.com (children's books)

  Dedications

  To my younger self, who Libby Smith is based on. Thank you to my family. I appreciate all the love and support you have given over the years and in the future. Also, thanks to great readers like you. Enjoy all my stories!