Lena Jones - The Secret Key

‘Twenty-four minutes – you were right, mon amie .’

I smile as Dr Hargrave opens the door for me.

‘ Bien sûr ,’ I say.

‘What was that?’ asks the headmaster.

‘I said, enjoy your lunch, sir.’

He presses his lips together, as though holding something back, then mutters – ‘Be careful, Agatha Oddlow. Be very careful.’

Liam Lau, my best friend, is pacing the corridor outside when I come out of the office. He turns to face me, his face all scrunched-up-serious. It takes me a moment to remember why. Ah yes – Liam knew I was in trouble and thinks I’m going to be expelled. In fact, Liam has been expecting my expulsion from St Regis since the day we met – only this time he’s sure that this latest adventure will be my last. Wanting to draw out the suspense, I pull a sad face.

Liam covers his face with his hands. ‘What did I tell you?’ he wails. ‘Who will I eat lunch with now?’

It’s true, Liam and I do eat lunch together – every day, in fact – at least whenever we cross over after lessons. We sit on ‘Exile Island’ – the table in the refectory where all the weird kids sit.

‘Liam …’ I start.

‘I know I shouldn’t moan,’ he groans.

‘Liam …’

‘Expelled …’ He groans again. ‘Oh, Agatha, maybe we can get him to reconsider? Maybe if we get your dad to write a letter—’

‘Liam!’ I shake him by the shoulders. Finally, he stops to listen.

‘I’m not going to be expelled,’ I say again.

He freezes. ‘You’re …’

‘Not. E-x-p-e-l-l-e-d.’ I spell the letters out, one by one, and examine my nails, painted forest green and bitten to the quick.

A smile smooths the worry lines from Liam’s face. He grabs me and gives me a massive hug. ‘What did Dr Hargrave say?’

I give him a sideways glance from under a fallen strand of hair. ‘I’ll tell you all about it. Come on – or we’re going to be late for chemistry.’

‘That’s not a superpower.’

‘I’m just saying – not getting expelled would be a pretty useful superpower.’

‘But superpowers are stuff like invisibility, or levitation. “Not getting expelled” is just what normal people do.’

The school day is over, and Liam and I are meeting back in our form room.

‘Normal people don’t have as much fun as I do.’

Liam imitates the school librarian, looking disapprovingly over his glasses, and I can’t help but smile. He always manages to cheer me up. He never judges me for Changing Channel, or for talking to people who aren’t there. ‘So, did you find any more clues about the caretaker?’ he asks.

I shrug. That’s why I was in trouble in the head’s office in the first place – for dressing as a health inspector to check up on the caretaker who has been acting suspiciously for weeks. I’ve wanted to be a detective since I was young and love putting on a disguise. Mum always encouraged me. She liked setting me trails of clues to follow and solve. But, as you know, after several, ahem, incidents , I’ve been – well, I’ve been banned by the headmaster from doing anything that might be called ‘snooping on innocent people’. Liam isn’t as passionate about being a detective as I am, but he does enjoy solving puzzles and cracking codes. That’s why we’ve set up the Oddlow Agency (no ‘detective’ in the title, to avoid annoying the headmaster).

‘So shall we start the meeting, Agatha?’

‘Yes,’ I nod. ‘I’ll have to be quick, though; I need to get some stuff for dinner.’

‘ Haute cuisine? Cordon bleu? ’ Liam puts on an exaggerated French accent like I sometimes do when Poirot is with me.

‘ Oui . That’s the idea, anyway.’

He nods seriously and opens the brand-new record book of Oddlow Investigations. My name is so often abused by other people (Oddly, Oddball, Odd Socks) that I’ve made it a part of my motto – ‘No Case Too Odd’. Unfortunately, the Oddlow Agency hasn’t been employed for a case yet. Still, that’s no reason not to keep proper records.

‘First order of business,’ I begin, ‘is the design of the insignia to be used on all official correspondence, business cards and rubber stamps. Any thoughts?’

Liam ponders for a second.

‘What about a lion … holding a magnifying glass!’

Really? I give him a hard stare and change the subject. It doesn’t sound very imaginative to me. ‘Why don’t we think about stationery later? We could practise taking identification notes?’

‘Sure. But you’ll have to tell me what identification notes are.’ He grins.

I look across at him and smile. ‘Identification notes are important facts about everyone. I write them for all sorts of people – anyone who might be important in an investigation.’ I shrug. ‘They help me remember what they looked like, how they dressed, what perfume they had on … that kind of thing.’

‘OK, I reckon I can do that.’ Liam nods. ‘Let’s start by giving it a go for each other.’

‘OK, so take your notebook and write three identifying things about me. Things that are unusual – that make me stand out. I’ll do the same for you.’

We put our heads down and scribble for a few minutes, then swap notebooks. Thoughtfully, I chew on my pencil as I hand them over.

My identification notes for Liam Lau –

1. Liam used to be smaller than me by a couple of inches, but has recently had a growth spurt that brings us level pegging.

2. He has black-rimmed glasses and dark hair, which is always immaculate. ‘Geek chic’ would describe his look.

3. He’s inseparable from Agatha Oddlow.

Liam’s identification notes for me –

1. Agatha is thirteen years old, 5 ft 2 (ish?). She has chestnut-brown hair worn in a bob.

2. She likes wearing vintage clothes – floral dresses, trench coats, DMs. So many trench coats. She’s often writing in a notebook.

3. Always hanging out with Liam Lau.

I’m about to say that my hair is dark brown, not chestnut, when someone bursts loudly into the classroom.

‘We can use this room, it’s just Oddball and Boy Wonder in here,’ they say.

I know immediately whose voice it is before I turn round – Sarah Rathbone, one of the three CCs, and she’s got the other two with her – Ruth Masters and Brianna Pike. They say that CC stands for Chic Clique, but everyone else says it stands for Carbon Copies. With their identically blonde hair, manicured nails and primped and preened appearances, they stand for everything St Regis is about. The school is full of the rich and beautiful like them, and making the rest of us feel unpopular is what they’re best at.

Some identification notes, for telling one CC from another –

1. Sarah Rathbone – If the other two are copies, Sarah is the original. The jewellery she wears has real diamonds, but it’s small and tasteful.

2. Ruth Masters – Second-in-command, Ruth is ruder than Sarah, which is saying something. Her dad works in PR, and Ruth is just as conscious of her public image, carefully managing who the CCs talk to and who they avoid.

3. Brianna Pike – Brianna is Sarah’s other henchwoman. She plays with her hair a lot and spends all day posting pictures of herself pouting on social media.

I face Sarah, head on. ‘I’m afraid we’re using this room,’ I say.

‘Using it for what?’ Sarah sneers. ‘Making detective notes with your little friend?’

Brianna approaches me. She draws her shoulders back and swings her blonde hair like a weapon. ‘Move.’

‘But we’re in the middle of something,’ I say.