The Mystery Begins

The first inkling of a mystery began in the most ordinary of ways—a pencil case. Not just any pencil case, though. Emily pulled it from her locker with a mix of confusion and mild horror. “Am I losing my mind, or did someone just... gift me this?” she asked, holding up a neon pink pencil case adorned with glittering sequins and the words “YOU GOT THIS!” emblazoned across the front. Ruth leaned closer, squinting at the sparkling monstrosity. “It’s… motivational? A bit aggressively so. Who gave it to you?” “No idea. And I’m not sure whether to feel encouraged or personally attacked,” Emily said dryly, shaking it for emphasis. “I mean, it’s not even my style. Whoever did this clearly doesn’t understand the understated sophistication of a plain navy-blue case.” Tallulah gasped, snatching the pencil case from Emily’s hands like it was the crown jewels. “Are you kidding me? This is AMAZING! Look at the sequins—they change color when you swipe them! This is the Rolls Royce of pencil cases!” “Correction,” Ruth chimed in, “this is the Rolls Royce of pencil cases for an 8-year-old who just discovered glitter glue.” The girls burst out laughing, their voices echoing down the hallway until Emily’s dry tone cut back in. “Well, it’s mine now. The note inside says so.” Anna, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up, peering over Emily’s shoulder. “What note?” Emily pulled out a small, neatly folded piece of paper from the pencil case and read aloud: ‘Keep going—you’re doing great!’ “That’s... suspiciously positive,” Anna remarked, adjusting her glasses. “It’s either someone being nice, or it’s a very subtle insult. Did you bomb the last maths test or something?” Emily rolled her eyes. “No, Anna, I didn’t bomb maths. And even if I had, my maths teacher would just leave a passive-aggressive comment in red pen, not gift me an overpriced pencil case.” “Maybe it’s a secret admirer!” Tallulah suggested, waggling her eyebrows. “Oh, great. Just what I need. A secret admirer with a taste for neon and glitter,” Emily deadpanned. “At least they didn’t leave me a pair of light-up trainers.” “Don’t knock the trainers until you’ve tried them,” Tallulah said seriously, tapping her chin. “I had a pair once. Best two weeks of my life.” “Two weeks? That sounds like a short life for a pair of trainers? Remarked Ruth. “Well, that depends. See, when I got them on, I loved them. I mean I really loved them, especially the way they threw the light across the kitchen floor and sparkled in the reflection of the TV, and the cats loved chasing the little dotty sparkles and so, I kind of, you know.” “Danced them to death!” cut in Anna. “Pretty much, yeah” Replied Tallulah sheepishly. “Focus,” Ruth interrupted shaking her head, her thoughtful expression softening her words. “What if it wasn’t meant for you? Maybe someone left it in the wrong locker?” Emily frowned. “No, the note was addressed to me—my name was on the envelope. So, unless there’s another Emily in this school with impeccable sarcasm and a fondness for overpriced stationery, it’s mine.” The girls all glanced at each other, their curiosity growing. Finally, Emily broke the silence. “We need to figure out who’s behind this,” she said decisively. “If nothing else, I need to know what kind of person thinks I need a motivational pencil case to get me through the day? Am I giving sad vibes?” “Nooo way, never ever, nooo way ever babes!” Shouted Tallulah a little too enthusiastically. So much so that Emily raised a quizzical eyebrow and the other girls exchanged knowing glances. “Maybe they’re some kind of self-help vigilante,” Tallulah added, a grin spreading across her face. “The Robin Hood of school supplies. They steal from the rich, buy motivational pencil cases, and bestow them on the needy.” “I’m not needy,” Emily protested. “No,” Tallulah agreed, “but you are cranky sometimes, which might look like the same thing from a distance.” “Cranky?” Exhaled Emily. Emily lifted her school bag from her feet and caught Anna analysing the handwriting on the note, and leaned in. “Find anything, Inspector Anna?” “Too neat for a boy,” Anna said confidently, tapping the paper with her finger. “But too ordinary to be Mrs. Hargreaves. Her handwriting is like hieroglyphics.” Tallulah clutched her chest in mock horror. “Do you think… it could be a ghost? A ghostly helper, cursed to wander the halls of Eleanor Rathbone Academy and solve students’ problems one pencil case at a time?” “I think you’ve been watching too much Netflix,” Ruth replied, her tone gentle but firm. “Let’s start with real possibilities before we jump to supernatural conclusions.” “That’s what they always say in horror films,” Tallulah muttered. “And then bam! The ghost of the stationary aisle gets them.” The bell rang and the girls shuffled into their form room, the mystery of the pencil case didn’t leave their minds. Emily couldn’t help glancing around the room, wondering if anyone was watching her with that secret-keeper’s smirk. Then she caught Tallulah with one of her withering glances which all of the girls noticed. Tallulah looked away and sat down, facing forward. “Saved by the bell eh Tallulah!” Chimed in Ruth, nudging Tallulah in the ribs and giving her a sly wink. Later that day, at lunch, Emily discovered she wasn’t the only recipient of mysterious gifts. A boy in Year 7 found a new lunchbox in his bag after forgetting his own at home. Another girl in Year 10 claimed her broken calculator was mysteriously replaced with a shiny new one. The stories were endless. “It’s official,” Anna declared, scribbling in her notebook. “There’s a pattern. Whoever this is, they’re targeting students who are struggling in small ways. Forget a lunch? Boom, you get a sandwich. Need a calculator? Here’s one, free of charge. Feeling mildly cranky? She smirked towards Emily. Here’s a glittering pencil case to brighten your day.” “Come on. Seriously! I am not cranky!” Said Emily Tallulah burst into the conversation, “That’s exactly what someone might say just before they turn purple, and the buttons fly from their blouse and then they just explode with rage. Blood and guts flying about the place, hitting people across the room before a lone eyeball slowly rolls across the floor to the foot of the one who’s wronged them!” she declared, her arms flailing like an exploding balloon before sinking to the floor in a dramatic pose, lying on the floor gurgling up at her audience. “Oh kay” said Anna slowly for dramatic effect, “Well, if nothing else, that solves the mystery of who got a full night's sleep last night!” said Anna as the group laughed. “So, we’re dealing with someone who notices these things,” Ruth said, her tone contemplative, trying to pull the group back into line. “And they must have access to lockers and bags.” “Maybe it’s a teacher,” Tallulah suggested. “Or the caretaker! They’re always around, aren’t they?” “Or a nosy student with too much time on their hands,” Emily added. “They probably think they’re being kind, but it’s also kind of creepy.” The girls spent the rest of lunch brainstorming theories, each wilder than the last. Ruth leaned toward logical explanations, while Tallulah veered into the absurd. Anna tried to keep track of the clues, while Emily provided her signature commentary. When lunch ended, the mystery was far from solved, but one thing was certain: the Anonymous Helper was someone worth investigating. “We’re solving this,” Ruth said as they walked back to class. “It’s not just about the gifts—it’s about why they’re doing it. There’s a story here.” “And if we don’t solve it,” Tallulah added, “I’m writing a screenplay about it. ‘The Case of the Stationery Saint.’ Coming soon to a cinema near you.” Emily sighed, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Let’s just hope the Helper doesn’t think I’m ungrateful. Otherwise, my next surprise might be a glitter-covered detention slip.”