Mason Wilson and the Dead Bird Debacle

PROLOGUE: WHO AM I?

Wherever I was, it smelled of pee. But where was I?  And how did I get here? I slowly came to my senses. My eyes were wide open now – at least I was pretty sure they were. I still couldn’t see a thing. All I could really hear was a low, humming sound.  Was it an engine, maybe?  I tried hard to see if I could hear anything else; but there was nothing.  Wait though – was that music I could hear?  I listened so hard that my brain hurt.  It sounded like an orchestra playing.

I was feeling quite seasick; although I was pretty sure I wasn’t on a boat. Was I in some sort of van though? Just then, the vehicle must have hit a pothole and I was thrown right into a corner.  I banged my head on the wall and that wasn’t a great help; I was already feeling a bit faint.  It stunk so bad in there that it made me want to throw up. What I could smell was actually the biggest clue. I was almost certain that it was pee, but somehow I knew it didn’t smell like the school toilets always do. What made it different? Was it from an animal? I was sure I knew it from somewhere. From ... from ... from ... from the garden at home, that was where! All at once, the memories came right back to me. I was, believe it or not, sharing the back of a white lorry with thirty cats (most of them obviously not toilet trained) plus a few hundred dead birds. Yes, you did just read that. The good news was that I hadn’t been kidnapped, but the bad news was that I’d actually decided to get myself into this situation on purpose.

I’d no idea how long I’d been there but I had the brains to use the light on my watch to find the answer - almost three hours. The glow wasn’t very strong but it still reflected in a dozen pairs of eyes that all seemed to be staring right at me. If that wasn’t freaky enough, I was more freaked out that I hadn’t got a clue where this lorry was going.  And, to top it all off, I knew that nobody in the entire world knew exactly where I was either. As far as my Mum and Dad knew, I was safely tucked up in bed. Only Ollie knew that I had secretly left the house, but he didn’t know the rest. 

Pins and needles were now pricking at my feet. I’d been sitting down for ages, so I stretched to try and get my legs going again. I’d probably need them at the end of the trip. I started to think back over the last few hours. Why did I put myself into this predicament? Well, as Dad says, desperate times call for desperate measures; but the whole thing would never really have got started if it hadn’t been for old Phipps.

CHAPTER 1: A PROJECT AND A PROBLEM

3.10 P.M. FRIDAY, APRIL 1

It was the last day of term before Easter and only a few minutes before the final bell. We could hardly keep still and we just wanted to get out of the door - but we all knew what was coming next.

Class, said Mr Phipps, the next class project is entitled ‘Urban Myths’. That announcement was greeted with the usual groans and mutterings but that wasn’t going to stop him!

Can anyone tell me what an urban myth is? We all kept quiet.  I was pretty sure I knew, but there’s no point in being a bit of a swot.

An urban myth is something that people believe is true, but it’s not. For example, just before Christmas, half the school got the idea that my grandfather was a sheriff in the Wild West. He actually used to be a policeman in the east end of London. Now you might say that’s virtually the same thing and I’d probably agree with you – but that’s beside the point. There was also a myth going around recently that President Obama was not actually born in the United States. If that was true, that would have meant that he couldn’t be the President. He had a great deal of trouble trying to prove it wasn’t true, or to use the special word for it – to debunk it. Anyway, the project is to find something that is said to be ‘fact’ and see if you can ‘debunk’ it as an urban myth – and you have to write at least 1,500 words. You have until the first day of school after the Easter holidays. Any questions?

But it was far too close to the end of term to bother about asking questions. The bell was about to ring and trigger a bit of a stampede. But, for once, Mr Phipps had a trick up his sleeve.

"I don’t suppose any of you would be interested in winning twenty ... thousand ... pounds, would you?"

Mr Phipps spoke those three magic words as if he was speaking in capital letters.  Now we were interested - of course we were! You can buy a lot of cool stuff with twenty thousand quid. But how?

The reason that I’ve given you this topic is that the Daily News is running a competition on urban myths, sponsored by Coola Cola. The first prize is twenty thousand pounds. Yes, I thought that might get your interest. You never know, it might give you an incentive not to leave things until the last minute as usual. If you’re interested in entering the competition then just check out their website for all the rules.

The bell rang and the usual mad dash was slowed down by all the talking about this exciting development. But I was still sitting down, balancing dangerously on the back two legs of my chair as I often do. Mr Phipps was tidying up his stuff before he left and he saw that I was still hanging about. 

I don’t recall giving you a detention, Wilson ... sorry I mean Mason, said the teacher, smiling. Have you forgotten where you live?

I made a face in protest.  This was about the millionth time that somebody had mixed up my first name with my last name. Having an unusual first name is something I’ve had to put up with all my life but it still bugs me when people get it wrong – especially when it’s someone who should know better, like my teacher!

No, Sir. Of course not! I was just thinking about this project. It’s loads more interesting than the last one you made us do; you know - the history of the plum pickers of Patagonia; and it would be cool to win that prize as well! Can you give me any tips, Sir?

Tips? said Mr Phipps.  His eyebrows shot up.

Yes, Sir, I said, feeling my cheeks go a bit red. Like what sort of thing will give me a chance of winning ... and getting good marks, of course? I’m not trying to cheat, Sir, honestly. The eyebrows went back down again.

Well, as it happens I did set a project on this type of subject before. But it must be twenty years ago at least. Let me think. There was one called ‘Is the Moon Made of Green Cheese?’ That particular pupil was mad about anything to do with space. He wrote to NASA and they sent some moon dust for him to submit – that was different! And I suppose that is really the best advice I can give you, Mason – don’t just settle for something easy, go for something different! Good luck – you’ll probably need a lot of it to win that competition.

3.35 P.M. FRIDAY, APRIL 1

AS I WENT THROUGH THE main school gates, I bumped into my best friend, Ollie.

Hi, Ollie. I thought you’d have been halfway home by now. What’s kept you? Not another detention, I hope? Ollie stuck out his tongue at me. His first-ever detention earlier in the week was something he was trying to forget.

Nah, I had to see Mr Taylor about basketball practice over the holidays.

Mr Taylor is the world’s shortest P.E. teacher. For some unknown reason, he still loves basketball - so we don’t learn the offside rule in football or how to kick a drop goal in rugby at our school; we’re experts on travelling violations and shooting three-pointers though, (which are things in basketball just in case you didn’t know). Someone should really tell him that we live in the north-west of England not the north-west of Los Angeles. It gets worse though - his second sport is badminton, which is basically two people hitting a dead bird over a net. All the other schools give us a load of stick about the sports that we have to play – but at least we can get our own back in the winter when we play indoors instead of freezing to death outside and doing cross-country.

Got any ideas for the project, Mase? I’m going to debunk the myth that Liverpool’s going to win the League this year – the real truth is that Man U. is going to win it!

You’re nuts, Ollie! Liverpool’s already ten points clear and the season’s only got a couple of months left. You don’t have to be Miss Marple to work out you’re totally biased.  You can’t be biased if you’re going to be a proper investigator, you know. You have to keep an open mind.

Huh. At least I’ve got an idea. That’s further than you’ve got – and anyway, the faster I can get this project done, the faster I get to enjoy the holidays.

But what about the twenty grand you could win? Aren’t you bothered about that?

Nah – I reckon that’s just a clever way of Phipps getting us to work our socks off on the project. There’s bound to be a shedload of entries – I’ve got no chance so it’s not worth wasting time to give it a go, is it?

Typical Ollie that.  He always finds the cloud in every silver lining. Somebody had to win, though, and why couldn’t it be me? As soon as I got home I headed straight for the garage to find Dad. The garage is his little empire where he doesn’t have to worry about taking his shoes off and keeping various bodily functions under control. I’m always welcome – but Mum’s presence is not really encouraged, ever since she went and tidied up the garage without him knowing. She doesn’t really need to be down there anyway unless there’s an errand or a job around the house that needs doing; then she comes looking for a volunteer - or a voluntold as Dad likes to call it.

3.45 P.M. FRIDAY, APRIL 1

HI DAD, I’M HOME! I dusted off a rickety three-legged stool in the corner of the garage and wobbled on it, wrinkling my nose up at the oily smell which always takes a minute or two to get used to. Dad put down the engine part he’d been trying to fix.

Mason! So they let you out then? I was hoping to get at least another hour of peace and quiet!

Give over! You didn’t honestly think I was going to get a detention on the last day of term, did you? All the teachers wanted to get away from the place just as much as we did.

Get away from you lot, you mean? I don’t blame them. You couldn’t pay me enough money to persuade me to do their job – they deserve every minute of their holidays if you ask me.

Yeah, Dad – whatever! Dad – I know you’re busy but would you mind if I asked you a quick question?

Fire away, but don’t mind if I keep working on fixing this, will you ...

I have to do a project on urban myths for school. You don’t know happen to know of any, do you? Dad paused and scratched his head as he always does when his brain is being put into something like top gear.

Hmmm ... well let me see now. Well, there was one that your mum talked about when she was expecting you. Drove me bonkers it did. She heard it was dangerous to keep a cat in the same room as a baby - something to do with the cat catching the baby’s breath. All a bit ridiculous if you ask me. The cat actually disappeared before you were born, so we never got to see what would have happened. It probably knew it was under suspicion and decided to make a run for it while it could – couldn’t blame it, could you?

I tried to imagine a cat stealing a baby’s breath and it made me feel a bit funny.  What if the cat hadn’t actually disappeared? Perhaps I wouldn’t be standing there now. I took a few deep breaths, almost to prove I still could.

Well thanks, Dad. If I win the twenty-grand prize, I promise I’ll share it with you.

Twenty grand? Has your teacher won the lottery or something?

Oh, didn’t I tell you? There’s a competition being run by the Daily News and that’s the first prize. That’d come in handy, wouldn’t it? But Dad didn’t reply. He was looking off into the distance with a bit of an odd expression on his face. But then he turned to look at me and I could see his eyes had gone a bit cloudy.

You could say that, Mason ... you could say that ...

Dad, what’s wrong? There’s something up, isn’t there? What is it?

Dad said nothing for a few seconds as he cleaned up his hands with a wet rag.

Let’s go inside and find your mum. There’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you and I suppose we shouldn’t put it off any longer.

I didn’t need to be a genius to know that this wasn’t going to be good. I felt a sharp pain in my chest as I started to think about what might be the matter. Was Dad in trouble? Was one of them really sick, like cancer or something?

4.00 P.M. FRIDAY, APRIL 1

I FOLLOWED DAD BACK to the house feeling like I was about to get some bad exam results. Mum was in the kitchen and she could see the looks on both our faces.

What’s the matter? You both look very serious.

Michelle, I think it’s time we told Mason what’s going on, don’t you?

Oh. There was a pause which seemed to last forever.

It’s only fair, love. There’s probably going to have to be some changes soon and he needs to know why. We’ve talked about this, you know we have – it’s for the best.

Dad put his hand gently on Mum’s shoulder and I could see she wasn’t far off crying. I couldn’t stand this for much longer.

Dad – tell me what’s going on. Please! Is one of you sick or something?

No, Mason – nothing like that. Your mum and me are fit and healthy - although we’re not as young as we used to be, eh love?

Mum managed to force a watery smile at Dad’s attempt to lighten things up a bit.

No, it’s money that’s the problem. You remember when I did my back in last year and I couldn’t work for a while? That set us back quite a lot, money-wise, and we had to take out a loan from the bank to help make ends meet. Now the economy is so bad, it looks like people are trying to avoid shelling out to get their car repaired.  There’s just not enough work about to pay the bills at the moment.

So what does that mean? No summer holiday this year?

"I’m afraid there won’t be one this year, Mason. But it could get much worse than that. You see, that loan was taken out on our house. What that means is that