Recess was almost over when we knocked politely on the door of Portable Four.

“Come in.” Said a voice from inside.

We entered and found Mr. Dodson seated at his desk. There were bandages on his fingers, and he looked rather unhappy.

“Hello there, Sir!” Tim greeted. We’re here to ask you a few questions about Sammy Hyde.

“So you know, eh?” Our teacher said coldly (He was Canadian.) “Well, good luck telling the authorities that!”

Tim gasped in fake astonishment. “You mean—You were the one who…”

“Don’t pretend to be so surprised! The darn kid ruined my pension! I was gonna retire this year, and then some idiot got injured at the last minute!

I heard the bell ring. Recess was over.

Suddenly, a wide grin spread across Tim’s face. “Thanks!” He said. He showed our shocked teacher the screen of his iPod, which was recording every word spoken. It was my idea, you know.”

If you put this much effort and creativity into your schoolwork,” Mr. Dodson told us, “you would get straight A+’s every semester. Too bad you’ll never bring home another report card!

With all the information we needed, Tim and I bolted for the door. Our enraged teacher chased after us. We ran through the front doors of the school, stopped, and held onto the heater to keep from slipping and falling on the mud left in the hallway after recess by 200 pairs of boots.

At that moment, our art teacher rushed in, slipped on the mud, and fell flat on his face, hitting his head on the floor. There he lay, unconscious.

Mr. Dodson was arrested. Students once again felt safe at S. L. Cooper Public School. Tim and I had solved the mystery. Now, we are famous throughout the school, and everybody, maybe even our teachers, will respect us. Maybe.

“Philip!” Mrs. Jones yelled at me. “For the last time: Stop daydreaming and get back to work!”

Or maybe not.


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