The Curse of Captain Cross-eyed (3 page)

“What's up with you, laddie?” he asked after the game. “Have you forgotten what your feet are for?”

“No,” I muttered. “Just got something on my mind.”

“Well, get it off your mind or you're off the team. O.K.?”

Very much
not
O.K. I cycled home feeling miserable. I'd lost my mobile phone and almost lost my place in the football team. What was going to happen next?

“You've to take Ellie and Brutus for a walk,” said Dad, when I got home. “Mum didn't have time. Gran's poorly so she's gone over to see her.”

“Oh no!” I groaned. Pushing Ellie's pram around was
so
uncool. But, with Dad out of action, there was nothing else for it.

Ellie stopped chewing the ear of her pink rabbit just long enough for me to put on her shoes and coat.

“Eets. Eets,” she grinned, as I strapped her into the pushchair.

“No sweets,” I said sternly. “You're fat enough. Walkies,” I nodded to Brutus, who was hovering hopefully nearby.

He wagged his tail and we set off along the road.

We reached Mr Maini's corner shop and that gave me an idea. I could take Ellie and Brutus for their walk along Weird Street. That way I could try to catch a glimpse of Captain Cross-eyed.

“You're a genius, Jonny Smith,” I said.

And it
was
a good idea when I was whizzing the two-ton toddler
down
Barr Avenue, but not when I had to push her
up
Weird Street.

“How would you like to pull the pushchair up the hill, like a husky?” I asked Brutus.

But he just ignored me, and lifted his leg on the big three-wheeler bike parked outside number 34 and a half.

“That bike's even older than mine,” I said.

At last I made it to number 13. I knelt by the chestnut tree at the front gate and pretended to be fixing my shoe while I checked out the house.

But there was no one around.

Oh well, it had been worth a try, I thought, and was just about to leave when I spotted something. I backed against the tree. A man had appeared at an upstairs window. He was wearing a black jacket and a three-cornered hat. On his shoulder sat a dancing parrot and, on the end of his arm, I could clearly see a gleaming hook.

It was Captain Cross-eyed!

“Look, Ellie. Look, Brutus,” I whispered. “It's him. It's the pirate!”

Ellie looked up and pointed. “Pi,” she said, pleased.

“That's right. Pirate. Good girl.”

The figure disappeared and, though I waited a little longer, there was no further sign of him. “Probably swinging in his hammock, drinking his rum ration and eating his weevily biscuits,” I told Ellie.

I turned the pushchair round and, with Brutus at my heels, headed for home. But at least I had seen Captain Cross-eyed again. At least I knew I hadn't imagined him.

“Now you can tell everyone you've seen the pirate, too,” I said to Ellie.

“Pi,” she agreed.

When we got home, Dad was setting the table for tea. “Oh, good, you're back,” he said, opening the oven. “Mum's been delayed. We'll start eating without her.”

I wasn't listening. “Guess what,” I said excitedly. “We walked to Weird Street and I saw the pirate again. He was at an upstairs window and was wearing a black jacket and a three-cornered hat and…”

Dad put on his stern, policeman's face. “Are you still on about this pirate nonsense?”

“It's not nonsense, Dad. It's true. Ask Ellie. She saw him, too. Didn't you, Ellie?”

Ellie beamed and pointed at the dish in Dad's hand. “Pi,” she said.

“That's right,” smiled Dad. “Steak pie. My favourite. Now, let's sit down and eat. And I don't want to hear any more of this rubbish.”

I sat down, and Dad served up the pie. Ellie's greedy eyes gleamed at the sight of it and Brutus sat beside me looking hopeful. But I was too annoyed to enjoy the food.

“I
did
see the pirate,” I whispered to Brutus. “I wish people would believe me. It's a pity you haven't learned to talk yet…”

We were
supposed
to be doing silent reading in class the next day, but I was busy thinking about Captain Cross-eyed. I kept a careful eye on Miss Dodds as I took out a piece of paper and started to set down the facts the way Dad had shown me.

Then it hit me.

I. Cross. Or Cross I. Or Cross-eyed, alias Captain Cross-eyed. They were obviously all the same person.

“Why didn't I realise before?” I said out loud.

“Why didn't you realise
what
before, Jonny?” snapped Miss Dodds. She was at her desk doing some school reports and hated being disturbed.

“Er, silent reading,” I said, quickly hiding the piece of paper. “It's very good.”

Miss Dodds fixed me with her steely gaze. “Then do it silently. The clue is in the word
silent
.”

“Yes, Miss Dodds,” I said excitedly. “Thank you.” She didn't know it, but she had just been very helpful. That was what I needed.
Clues
. Clues to the existence of Captain Cross-eyed.

But where would I find them?

I thought for a moment. What would a
real
detective do?

He would search Captain Cross-eyed's wheelie bin! There were bound to be clues there… Empty rum bottles, weevily biscuits, parrot feathers… But I was going to need help if I was to do it without being seen. I looked over at Sara and Surinder and smiled. What are friends for?