Dare Game (9 page)

‘Say something!’

She just sat there and sat there and then she eventually took her hand out of her mouth and mumbled, ‘I don’t really know what to say.’

Call herself a
writer
!

‘I thought you were meant to be good with words!’

‘Just at the moment they’re sticking in my throat,’ she mumbled, like I’d just squirted Superglue round her tonsils.

I went and stood right in front of her. She was all huddled up, almost as if I
had
been jumping all over her. I had this sharp little pain in my chest. I suddenly felt like
I
was the mother and she was my little girl. ‘You’re sad, aren’t you, Cam?’ I said softly.

She made more mumbly noises and started nail-biting again.

I reached out and took hold of her nibbled hand. ‘You’re unhappy that my mum’s come back, aren’t you?’ I said hopefully.

Cam didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then she gave me this weird smile, practically stretching from ear to ear. ‘I’m happy for you, Tracy,’ she said.

I dropped her hand like it was red hot and ran out of the room.

Happy! Smiling all over her face!

She obviously couldn’t wait to be rid of me. She doesn’t care about me at all. Well,
I
don’t care. I don’t need her. I’ve got my mum now.

I’ll go and live with Mum and I shan’t mind a bit if I never see Cam ever again. I’m not going to take any notice of her. I’m just going to put my life on hold until I can go and live with my mum. I’m not going to go to school either.

I’m in a bit of bother at school at the moment. I started up the Dare Game, quite by chance. Roxanne was calling me the B word again because she knows it really gets to me, so I dared her to say it in front of Mrs Bagley.

I thought she’d chicken out. But her eyes glittered and she said, ‘Right!’ She marched right up to Mrs V.B. and said, ‘Tracy Beaker told me to say this weird word, Mrs Bagley,’ and then she said it straight out and added, all Little Miss Innocence, ‘Is it
rude
?’

So guess who got into trouble.

‘And
I
won the dare,’ said Roxanne.

I stuck my tongue out at her, waggling it as rudely as I could.

‘It’s my turn to dare you now,’ said Roxanne. ‘I dare you to stick your tongue out like that at Mrs Bagley!’

So I did. And guess who got into trouble again.

‘But it’s my turn now,’ I said, catching up with Roxanne at break. I peered past the cloakrooms and had a sudden inspiration. ‘OK, I dare you to run right into the boys’ toilets!’

So she did. But she said I’d pushed her in. So I got into heaps more trouble.

And now it was her turn to dare me. She waited till lunchtime. It was spaghetti bolognaise. I don’t like school spag bol. The cook makes it bright red like blood and the spaghetti seems extra wiggly like worms. I pushed my plateful away from me.

‘Don’t you want it, Tracy?’ said Roxanne, her eyes going glitter glitter glitter. ‘OK, I dare you to tip it over your head!’

So I did. And when Roxanne and all her
stupid
friends started screaming with laughter I tipped Roxanne’s spag bol over
her
head.

I ended up in
BIG BIG BIG
trouble. I had to stand outside the head’s office for the rest of the day in Total Disgrace. Mr Hatherway went past and shook his head at me. ‘Hair ribbon?’ he said, picking a strand of spaghetti out of my curls. ‘It looks like you’ve really hit the jackpot today, Tracy. What’s poor Mrs Bagley going to do with you, eh?’

I was sure she was going to invent some serious form of torture.

I don’t see why I should submit to serious Vomit Bag Aggro. I won’t even go in for registration. What do I care if they phone up Cam and complain? I shan’t be at that school much longer. My mum will send me to a brand-new super school where I’ll be dead popular because of all my designer clothes and everyone will be in awe of me and be desperate to be my best friend and even the teachers will think I’m the greatest and I’ll be top of the class and the best girl in the whole school.

You wait.

You just wait and see.

So when Cam took me to school this morning I waved goodbye and ran into the playground – and went on running, all round the kids and then back out again and down the road, running and running, and I kept it up for ages, acting like there were Tracy-catchers prowling with nets and hooks and manacles. I didn’t know why I was running like crazy.

Then I realized where I was running to. My house.

I rounded the corner – and a football came whizzing straight through the air, about to knock my head clean off my shoulders. But I’m Tracy-SuperStar, the girl-goalie with nanosecond-quick reactions. I leapt, I clutched, I tucked the ball close to my chest –
saved
!

‘Wow!’ I yelled, congratulating myself.

This big burly kid came charging up, his
head
as round as the football but with little prickles all over, a serious don’t-mess-with-me haircut. Make that hair
shave
.

‘Give us that ball,’ he said.

‘Did you see the way I caught it?’ I said, leaping about. ‘What a save, eh?’

‘Sheer fluke,’ said the Football guy. He knocked the ball out of my hand and started dribbling with it.

‘Sheer
skill
!’ I said indignantly. ‘Come on, see if you can get another ball past me.’

‘I don’t play with girls.’

‘Girls are great at footie,’ I said. ‘Well,
I
am. Let’s play, yeah?’

‘No! Get lost, little girly.’

I suddenly charged at him. He stiffened in surprise, expecting some kind of mad attack – and forgot about his ball. I gave it a nifty little hooking kick and whipped it right out of his reach.

‘Superb tackle!’ I yelled, nudging it along. ‘The great Tracy Beaker and her brilliant footwork yet again. She’s really come good, this girl –
OUCH
!’

Football did not tackle back with finesse.
He
went whack. I went smack. On my back.

I lay there, groaning. Football stopped, bouncing the ball right by my head. ‘You all right, kid?’ he said.

‘Oh yeah. Sure. Just having a little kip on the pavement,’ I mumbled.

‘I didn’t mean to knock you flying like that. I didn’t realize you’re such a little kid.’