Katy Read online

  It felt great to heave it all out of me. After I’d sent the email I felt that wonderful feeling of peace you get when you’ve been violently sick. I didn’t even have the strength to haul myself back on to the bed. I fell asleep slumped sideways in my wheelchair.

  Izzie discovered me in the morning and was appalled.

  ‘I think it’s all too much for you, Katy. It would be madness to go into school today. You need to stretch out in bed and have a proper sleep. Perhaps wait a couple of weeks and build up your strength first,’ she fussed.

  ‘No way! It would be like starting as a new girl all over again. I’m fine, really I am,’ I protested.

  ‘Well then, how about mornings only for a while?’

  ‘Definitely not. I especially need to go in the afternoons,’ I said. I’d looked properly at the timetable. All the PE sessions were in the afternoon.

  ‘You’re the most obstinate girl in all the world,’ said Izzie. ‘But maybe that works in your favour now. Your dad and I are very proud of you.’

  So I went back to school on Tuesday. And Wednesday and Thursday and Friday. I stayed desperately tired and I ached all over and I developed dreadful blisters on my hands from all the wheelchair-pushing, but Izzie bought me fingerless leather gloves that actually looked incredibly cool.

  Mrs Slater gave me special maths tuition whenever she’d set the others work. I still couldn’t get my head round these new problems so she went back over sums I’d learned in Year Six, even Year Five, and at last my mind whirred into action. It was as if she’d given the batteries in my brain a good shaking to get them working again. Then when I could whizz through all the old sums she started adding a few new ones, and I coped with them OK. She seemed as pleased as I was when I started getting them right.

  I managed all the other lessons too, and especially enjoyed ‘science’, when I chatted about books half the time with Miss Lambert. I did well in Mrs Levy’s class too, but my favourite lesson was PE. I kept practising with Mr Myers, who raised the net a little each session – and soon I was scoring goals when it was nearly at the proper height.

  Mr Myers started bouncing the ball near me to see if I could stop wheeling, catch it, and then hang on to it until I was ready to pass it to someone else or try shooting myself. It sounded easy enough, but it was incredibly difficult to get the rhythm right.

  I kept trying but I simply didn’t have the knack. I found it especially humiliating when the Myball teams were having a half-time break and watching me. I knew Eva and Maddie and Sarah were all smirking as I missed the ball again and again.

  ‘Katy, if I helped you, could you manage to sit on the floor with your back against the wall?’ Mr Myers asked softly in my ear.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so. But I don’t think it’ll help me much, so what’s the point?’ I said.

  ‘You’ll see,’ he said.

  He lifted me very carefully and sat me down on a gym mat, making sure I was safely propped up.

  ‘Right, I want a volunteer,’ he called. ‘Who’s one of the best at Myball?’

  Lots of them waved their hands in the air – including Eva.

  ‘OK, Eva, you go first,’ said Mr Myers.

  He wheeled my chair into the middle of the floor.

  ‘Right, Eva, hop in. Let’s see how you can manage Wheelie Myball.’

  Eva went pink. ‘Oh sir, do I have to? I don’t want to sit in Katy’s wheelchair!’

  ‘Give it a go. Be a good sport,’ said Mr Myers. He said it lightly, but there was an edge to his voice.

  So Eva climbed into my wheelchair, grimacing as she did so, as if she thought I’d wet the seat. Mr Myers threw her a ball and she caught it.

  ‘There! I can do it, easy-peasy,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, any fool can catch the ball if they’re stationary,’ said Mr Myers. ‘Try wheeling and then I’ll throw it. And then have a go at shooting. See how you do.’

  Oh joy! Eva couldn’t catch it once. She dropped it again and again. She couldn’t control the wheelchair at all. And then when Mr Myers made her try shooting she was useless at that too, and couldn’t get the ball anywhere near the net.

  ‘There. It’s not actually as easy-peasy as you’d think,’ said Mr Myers.

  I wanted to throw my arms round him and kiss him. It was a moment of total triumph. And suddenly half a dozen people wanted a go in my wheelchair, and they all found it difficult to manoeuvre and lost all their ball skills. Ryan tried too, and was equally useless.

  ‘Wow, this is impossible. You’re a real star, Katy,’ he said.

  I didn’t point out that I’d had ages to get used to my chair and I’d been practising with the ball for a long time too. I just smiled.

  ‘So, next lesson I think it’s time you joined in a game of Myball, Katy,’ said Mr Myers. ‘Do you fancy having a go?’

  Did I ever! I was nervous at first, wondering how it would work out, whether I’d be overwhelmed – but it was wonderful. The others were nervous of me, scared they might bump into me or somehow knock me out of my wheelchair, so I could dart among them and score yet another goal while they hung back.

  ‘We’re just being nice to you because you’re disabled,’ Eva puffed, her face a mottled salmon pink.

  ‘Good!’ I said. ‘Because my team’s winning!’

  I was in Ryan’s team. He’d picked me first! We were both the highest scorers, five goals each! So we high-fived each other and everyone in our team cheered.

  My email to Dexter was in bold capital letters that night. I never got any reply from him, but I kept on writing. It was as if I were keeping a diary just for him. Perhaps he didn’t even bother to read it. But if he did, I knew he’d understand.

  The games of MyBall helped change my status in class, especially with the boys. I was Katy the ace Myball player, not Katy the girl in the wheelchair. We even played our own version of Myball in the playground at break, and they always asked me to join in.

  They were sometimes a little rough now and Izzie exclaimed at the bruises on my legs, the scratches on my arms.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Katy!’ she said, dabbing at me with Savlon. ‘You must stop all this rough-housing. You know you have to take particular care of your legs. One of these cuts could easily go septic without you realizing.’

  ‘They’re scratches, Izzie. Don’t fuss!’ I said.

  She did fuss though, and made me show my legs to Dad.

  ‘You’re still my harum-scarum tomboy, chickie,’ said Dad. ‘Don’t go too mad. But I’m glad you’re having fun.’

  But the fun was over soon enough. In one game of Myball I happened to wheel straight into Eva. It was an accident. OK, maybe it was accidentally on purpose, but she was deliberately blocking me, stopping me aiming at the net. So I barged forward and knocked her out the way. She overbalanced and sat down on her bum. She wasn’t really hurt at all. She just looked a bit silly. I couldn’t help it if some of my team laughed. Me especially.

  She didn’t say anything much at the time. She just sloped off after the game, muttering darkly to Maddie and Sarah.

  I forgot all about it until the next PE lesson. Mr Myers came up to me. For once he looked awkward, his dark eyes not quite meeting mine.

  ‘I thought maybe you and I could practise hitting a ball with a rounders bat, Katy. Would you like to do that?’ he said.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so. But can’t I play Myball?’

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Mrs Matthews has had a word. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea. She’s treating it as a health and safety issue.’

  ‘What? But I’m fine, you know I am. And even if I tumble out of my wheelchair it doesn’t really hurt,’ I protested.

  ‘I think maybe Mrs Matthews is worried about other pupils being hurt,’ said Mr Myers.

  He didn’t look in Eva’s direction. But I did. She was smirking triumphantly. She’d told on me. Perhaps her wretched mother had emailed Mrs Matthews. I hated Eva, I