trap’s going to work.’
‘You bet.’ Clem linked her arm through Mio’s, saying, ‘Clever, Mio. We’ll soon know if there’s been an intruder or not.’ Darcy and Bryce caught up with the girls. They grabbed their bikes from the school rack and headed off.
At the doorway of The Van they hesitated. Inside was a sea of darkness. The sunlightexploded behind their eyes till finally it dimmed and they could see.
There was the TV in the centre of The Van. There were the four milk crates placed around it. And there on top of the TV was the piece of cord. The bottle of water stood undisturbed.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Mio, reaching for the cord. It was twisted and tied in the shape of a tortoise, a loop for a head and interwoven strands for the shell. ‘Kame no Ko Musubi,’ she muttered, then translated for the others, ‘turtle shell knot.’ Her voice grew wistful. ‘It’s a knot my grandmother taught me for basketry. In Japan.’
‘Cool,’ said Bryce. He touched the pattern made by the cord. ‘Reminds me of a graffiti tag I once saw.’ He shrugged, then smiled at Mio. ‘Last year. Bad memories. Shouldn’t go there.’
Clem interrupted, asking, ‘Did you tie the turtle knot, Mio?’
‘It wasn’t me,’ said Mio, with a firm shake of her head. She turned the knot over and over in her hand, admiring the handiwork. The last time she had seen a knot like this was the day before she left Japan. Her neighbour gave her one for good fortune. Mio remembered her saying, May it bring you ten thousand years of happiness.
‘Who, then?’ Bryce pointed to the knot. ‘It looks pretty complicated.’
‘It is,’ said Mio. She ran her fingers over the cord’s twists and turns.
‘Give it to me.’ Darcy took the turtle shell knot from Mio and held it in his open palm. ‘Pretty amazing. Wonder who did it?’
Bryce plucked at an imaginary guitar. He put his foot on a milk crate, crooning, ‘Who dat whisperin’ in de trees?’
‘Looks like you’ve been outsmarted, Mio,’ said Darcy, handing her back the knot.
Mio shrugged, trying to look like she didn’t care. Expertly she untied the knot, then looped the cord around her fingers, deep in thought. Finally, she spoke. ‘Whoever it was they know their knots. I used a kicho musubi, a precise knot, for the bottle. It’s almost impossible to undo.’ She slipped the cord in her pocket.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the air. ‘Come back here, you no-good beagle.’
‘It’s them!’ Clem dashed to the window and looked out, her eyes narrowing as she remembered the last time she saw the man and the dog. Darcy, Mio and Bryce followed.
‘Stupid dog,’ yelled the man, twirling a lead with a choker chain attached to the end. ‘Come back ’ere or I’ll give ya a hidin’.’
Clem’s heart started thumping. Blood rushed to her face. She gripped the curtain as she thoughtout loud, ‘Hurt that dog, mister, and you’ll answer to me.’
‘Where are ya, ya blubber-brained beagle?’ The man was getting closer and closer to The Van. ‘You in here?’ He whipped the lead against the side. The choker chain clanged against the metal, making the kids jump. They exchanged frantic looks and hand signals.
Clem appeared in the doorway, her arms clenched at her sides as she asked, ‘What do you want?’
‘Ohhh.’ The man jerked with fright, then leaned against The Van with his hand over his heart. ‘You scared me.’
‘Me? Scare you?’ Clem stepped down from The Van. She halted in front of the man. He was taller than her by a good thirty centimetres so she had to look up. ‘You’re the one banging The Van and making threats.’
The man squinted as he inspected Clem and said, ‘You the girlie who wuz ’ere before?’
‘Yes.’
‘You a runaway?’ The man scratched the stubble on his chin and eyed her up and down. ‘You live ’ere?’
Before Clem could answer, Darcy poked out his head, then he, too, came outside. He sidled close to Clem but
‘You bet.’ Clem linked her arm through Mio’s, saying, ‘Clever, Mio. We’ll soon know if there’s been an intruder or not.’ Darcy and Bryce caught up with the girls. They grabbed their bikes from the school rack and headed off.
At the doorway of The Van they hesitated. Inside was a sea of darkness. The sunlightexploded behind their eyes till finally it dimmed and they could see.
There was the TV in the centre of The Van. There were the four milk crates placed around it. And there on top of the TV was the piece of cord. The bottle of water stood undisturbed.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Mio, reaching for the cord. It was twisted and tied in the shape of a tortoise, a loop for a head and interwoven strands for the shell. ‘Kame no Ko Musubi,’ she muttered, then translated for the others, ‘turtle shell knot.’ Her voice grew wistful. ‘It’s a knot my grandmother taught me for basketry. In Japan.’
‘Cool,’ said Bryce. He touched the pattern made by the cord. ‘Reminds me of a graffiti tag I once saw.’ He shrugged, then smiled at Mio. ‘Last year. Bad memories. Shouldn’t go there.’
Clem interrupted, asking, ‘Did you tie the turtle knot, Mio?’
‘It wasn’t me,’ said Mio, with a firm shake of her head. She turned the knot over and over in her hand, admiring the handiwork. The last time she had seen a knot like this was the day before she left Japan. Her neighbour gave her one for good fortune. Mio remembered her saying, May it bring you ten thousand years of happiness.
‘Who, then?’ Bryce pointed to the knot. ‘It looks pretty complicated.’
‘It is,’ said Mio. She ran her fingers over the cord’s twists and turns.
‘Give it to me.’ Darcy took the turtle shell knot from Mio and held it in his open palm. ‘Pretty amazing. Wonder who did it?’
Bryce plucked at an imaginary guitar. He put his foot on a milk crate, crooning, ‘Who dat whisperin’ in de trees?’
‘Looks like you’ve been outsmarted, Mio,’ said Darcy, handing her back the knot.
Mio shrugged, trying to look like she didn’t care. Expertly she untied the knot, then looped the cord around her fingers, deep in thought. Finally, she spoke. ‘Whoever it was they know their knots. I used a kicho musubi, a precise knot, for the bottle. It’s almost impossible to undo.’ She slipped the cord in her pocket.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the air. ‘Come back here, you no-good beagle.’
‘It’s them!’ Clem dashed to the window and looked out, her eyes narrowing as she remembered the last time she saw the man and the dog. Darcy, Mio and Bryce followed.
‘Stupid dog,’ yelled the man, twirling a lead with a choker chain attached to the end. ‘Come back ’ere or I’ll give ya a hidin’.’
Clem’s heart started thumping. Blood rushed to her face. She gripped the curtain as she thoughtout loud, ‘Hurt that dog, mister, and you’ll answer to me.’
‘Where are ya, ya blubber-brained beagle?’ The man was getting closer and closer to The Van. ‘You in here?’ He whipped the lead against the side. The choker chain clanged against the metal, making the kids jump. They exchanged frantic looks and hand signals.
Clem appeared in the doorway, her arms clenched at her sides as she asked, ‘What do you want?’
‘Ohhh.’ The man jerked with fright, then leaned against The Van with his hand over his heart. ‘You scared me.’
‘Me? Scare you?’ Clem stepped down from The Van. She halted in front of the man. He was taller than her by a good thirty centimetres so she had to look up. ‘You’re the one banging The Van and making threats.’
The man squinted as he inspected Clem and said, ‘You the girlie who wuz ’ere before?’
‘Yes.’
‘You a runaway?’ The man scratched the stubble on his chin and eyed her up and down. ‘You live ’ere?’
Before Clem could answer, Darcy poked out his head, then he, too, came outside. He sidled close to Clem but
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