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others would know. Then they’d do it better!’ said Mario.
    â€˜True,’ nodded Mrs. Tasker. ‘But that’s not the only reason. It’s to give everybody a chance to use their minds on the same problem. A kind of mindspace.’
    Mario overheard. ‘I know what mindspaces are. Look at Art. He’s got space under his wool. It’s empty. Ha! Ha! Ha!’ Nobody laughed. They were tired of Mario.
    â€˜Know much about farming?’ India changed the subject. ‘Ever heard of space farming?’
    â€˜Is that growing things in space? ‘guessed Art. He thought it might have something to do with her aunty’s wind farming.
    â€˜No.’ India waved one of her crutches. ‘Space farming is filling up the space on the radio at night. It is selling radio advertisements to fill the late hours of the night.’
    â€˜Cool name,’ said Art. But he liked the idea of wind farming better.
    â€˜Read about it the other day,’ said India.’ Just thought you’d like to know.’ India’s mind must have been jam-packed with bits of other people’s ideas she’d read. Art liked to think up his own.
    â€˜If you need to, have a drink from the taps. Or go to the toilet, quickly,’ suggested Mrs. T. ’Then meet outside.’
    â€˜See you in the theatre.’ India hopped towards the Ladies just as a security guard turned the corner. He seemed to be hurrying after the bikie girl who vanished into the Ladies too.

Chapter 8
Props
    Lecture theatre 1 was packed now. Down the front, an area was taped off for performers. It looked different with the lights on. Art peered around, trying to work out where Grey Coat had been.
    â€˜That’s the stage,’ hissed Rae, pointing.
    Judges sat in the front row, the line of seats behind them left empty.
    â€˜Let’s sit here,’ Rae pointed to the second row.
    â€˜No. Further back,’ said Art. Judges didn’t want the audience to hear their comments while they were marking.
    A big clock was on the wall. Art noticed the two chairs and a table. His team would use them later. That was allowed.
    â€˜Where is the plug for the sound effects?’
    â€˜Over there.’
    The three o’clock team was from Grant Street School. They were putting their extension cord together. Art remembered playing basketball against them. They were ace.
    The first judge stood up.
    â€˜Welcome to Tournament of Minds. Grant Street School is the next team to present the Detectives, Diamonds and Dastardly Deeds problem. They have ten minutes in which to set up, perform and clear away. Enjoy yourselves. Grant Street, your time starts now.’
    As the welcoming judge sat down, seven players scurried about. Only five were allowed in the taped area at once. A big school sign and the name of the problem had to be shown. It must be read easily from eight metres away. A student pinned up the Grant Street School name. But it fell down!
    Art knew how they felt. A rustle of sympathy went trough the audience. Art looked sideways at Mario. His team was next. ‘We’ve got a better idea for our problem,’ boasted Mario, but he looked a bit worried.
    As Art turned around, he saw the bike girl slip into a seat at the back. What was she doing here? Was she looking for Grey Coat? She seemed to be staring down at India and her crutches.
    â€˜Good afternoon,’ said the Grant Street actor.
    Art turned to watch the actors. But he didn’t forget the bikie girl. Grant Street did a funny presentation. Their story was set in a second-hand jeweller’s shop. One of the girls was a ring owner. She was trying to find a missing ring, sold by mistake. It reminded Art of the story his Mum had told.
    Art and India clapped loudly at the end. Art glanced up at the seat where the bikie girl had been. The seat was empty now. Where had she gone?
    â€˜Time for Mario’s team. Good luck,’ called India, but Mario