Fergus Hamilton was an ordinary nine-year-old boy. He liked footballs (but not when Dermot Eggs kicked them at his head), tennis balls (but not when his dog Chimp chewed them so much they went soggy and sticky and covered his hand in spit), and meatballs (but not if his mum’s fianzcé Jambo was there for tea because he always snuck them off Fergus’s plate when he wasn’t looking!). He didn’t like card games (because he always lost), board games (because he always got bored), or games lessons at school when they had to use the balance beam (because he couldn’t stay on one foot and always fell over).
Yes, he was ordinary in almost every way, except one. Because, for a small boy, Fergus Hamilton had an extraordinarily big imagination.
Some days he imagined a world in which, instead of planning an enormous wedding, his mum and Jambo were planning a secret ceremony safari adventure (although he wasn’t sure Mum’s white dress would look so great covered in jungle mud).
Some days he imagined a world in which, instead of maths and history, you could learn to do bike tricks like alley-oops and bunny hops and manuals all day (although he was pretty sure Minnie would ace all the tests, whereas he’d get a B and a lot of bruises).
And some days he imagined a world in which, instead of cats and dogs, you could have amazing mythical creatures like unicorns and hippogriffs for pets (although he was pretty sure Chimp wouldn’t take too kindly at sharing his bed with a hippogriff.) But this particular morning Fergus was imagining a world in which, instead of being in a massive grump, his best friend Daisy was her usual fact-spouting, joke-making, bike-loving brilliotic self.
He just didn’t understand what was wrong with her. When Daisy had missed out on getting into the starting line-up for the Internationals, Fergus had been upset too. But since then she’d been working really hard to prove herself as first reserve. With Mikey down with glandular fever, Calamity off visiting his gran, and Dermot fiddling with his phone most of the time, she didn’t have that much competition for the slot anyway.
It could be his new second best friend Sorcha, he supposed. Daisy hadn’t been too keen on her at first – after all, Sorcha and her sister had beaten them in the Wreck-It Run. But she and Sorcha seemed to be great mates now, and Daisy had learned more sign language than even he had, so the pair of them chatted away with their fingers, leaving Fergus floundering and asking, “What does that mean?” every few minutes.
No, there was something else on her mind, and something big.
And she wasn’t the only one.
Jambo picked up that evening’s copy of the Carnoustie Courier, read the back page, then slapped it back on the table with a sigh.
“Another one?” asked Fergus’s mum.
“Aye,” replied Jambo.
“Another what?” asked Fergus, who had been so busy worrying about Daisy, he’d missed most of what was going on at home in the last day or so.
“Another leaked story about us lot,” said Grandpa Herc, with a grim look. “At this rate, every team in the world will know all of our tactics before we even get to Manchester.”
A flustered Fergus snatched up the paper, turned to the headline sports story and began to read.
“What a lot of rot!” declared Grandpa.
“Too right!” agreed Fergus. “I mean, the pillow thing’s true, thanks to Choppy. And I reckon it’s a dancer of an idea. But the story makes it sound like we’re cheating!”
“And who’s the Phantom Leaker?” demanded Grandpa. “That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Me too,” said Jambo. “Because my boss reckons if I don’t come up with a scoop to rival Dickie Moore in the next week, then I might as well clear my desk.”
Fergus felt himself flush with anger for a second time. “But you’re the best sports reporter in the city, and the Evening News is the best paper.”
“Not any more,” said Jambo with a sigh.
“Och, love.” Mum gave him a hug. But not even that could put a smile on Jambo’s face.
“I’m worried, Jeanie,” he said. “With the wedding coming up, I really can’t afford to lose my job.”
“And you won’t,” she insisted.
“No, you won’t,” said Fergus, adding his support, as well as a hug of his own. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. Me and Daisy. You’ll see.”
Now all he had to do was persuade his best friend. Fergus knew that if this had been a few weeks ago she’d have been the one leading the investigation, with a list of suspects already drawn up, as well as tactics to take them down.
But with the way Daisy had been acting lately, Fergus was worried he’d struggle to even get her on board.