Dare Game Read online

  ‘You what? Oh. The Smarties.’

  He looked over at the plate. ‘You spoilt my pattern,’ he said.

  ‘It’s only babies who play with food. Well, that’s what they said at the Children’s Home when I made my peas climb up my mashed potato mountain.’

  ‘Did you really think it was magic?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course not!’ I said firmly.

  ‘I thought by the sound of your footsteps you were really big and scary,’ he said, unclenching and swinging his legs free. ‘That’s why I hid.’

  ‘I am big and scary,’ I said. ‘Bigger than you, anyway, you little squirt.’

  ‘Everyone’s bigger than me,’ he said humbly.

  ‘How old are you then? Nine? Ten?’

  ‘I’m nearly twelve!’

  I stared. ‘You don’t look it!’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So what are you doing here then?’ I asked, helping myself to another handful of Smarties. I offered him the plate, seeing as they were his refreshments. He said thank you politely and ate one blue Smartie, nibbling at the edges first like it was a biscuit. He didn’t answer me.

  ‘Are you bunking off?’ I asked.

  He hesitated, then nodded. ‘You won’t tell, will you?’ he said, swallowing his Smartie.

  ‘I’m not a snitch.’ I looked him up and down. ‘Fancy you bunking off! You look too much of a goody-goody teacher’s pet. Dead swotty!’ I pointed to his big fat book, trying to work out the title. ‘Alex-an-der the Great. The great what?’

  ‘No, that was just what they called him.’

  ‘As in Tracy the Great?’ I rather liked the sound of it. ‘That’s me. Tracy.’

  ‘I’m Alexander,’ he said.

  ‘Ah. Alexander the not-so-great. So. You’re obviously dead brainy. Why do you need to bunk off? I bet you come top of everything.’

  He nodded. ‘Yep. Except for PE. I’m bottom at PE. I always bunk off on games days.’

  ‘You’re mad. PE’s a bit of a laugh. Especially when it’s football.’

  I’m truly Tracy the Great at footie, famed for my nippy footwork and dirty tackles. Old Vomit Bagley goes bright red in the face blowing her whistle at me.

  Alexander was whingeing on about them being even worse then.

  ‘Them?’

  ‘The other boys. They tease me.’

  ‘What about?’

  Alexander ducked his head. ‘All sorts of stuff. Especially . . . when we’re in the showers.’

  ‘Aha!’

  ‘They laugh at me because . . .’

  ‘Because you’re Alexander the not-so-great!’ I said, giggling.

  Alexander flinched as if I’d hit him. I suddenly felt mean. I hitched myself up on the window seat beside him. ‘So you bunk off?’ I said.

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Haven’t they complained to your mum?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So what did she say?’

  ‘She never says anything much. It’s Dad.’ Alexander said the word ‘Dad’ as if it meant Rottweiler.

  ‘What did he say?’

  I could feel Alexander trembling. ‘He said – he said – he said he’d send me away to boarding school if I didn’t watch out, and then I couldn’t play truant. And he said I’d really get bullied there.’

  ‘He sounds dead caring, your dad,’ I said, and I patted Alexander on his bony little shoulder.

  ‘He says I have to learn to stand up for myself.’

  I snorted and suddenly gave him the teeniest little push. He squealed in shock and nearly fell off the window seat. I hauled him back. ‘You’re not even very good at sitting up for yourself,’ I said, shaking my head at him.

  ‘I know,’ Alexander said dolefully.

  ‘So come on then. Try fighting back.’

  ‘I can’t. I don’t know how.’

  ‘I’ll show you.’

  He was in luck. I’m the greatest fighter in the world. I’m especially good at getting a sly punch in first. And I don’t just rely on fists. I’m great at kicking shins. If I’m really pushed I bare my killer choppers and bite.

  I pulled Alexander off the window seat and tried to get him to put his fists up. His little hands drooped back down to his sides.

  ‘I can’t fight. And anyway, I can’t hit a girl.’

  ‘You won’t get a chance, matey,’ I said, putting my own fists up. I gave him one little gentle punch. Then another. He didn’t react, apart from blinking rapidly.

  ‘Come on! Try to hit me back.’

  Alexander lunged at me feebly. His fist could have been cotton wool.

  ‘Harder!’

  He had one more go. I stepped sideways and he punched thin air, stumbled, and very nearly fell over.

  ‘Oh well. I see what you mean,’ I said, realizing he was a totally hopeless case.

  ‘I’m useless,’ said Alexander, drooping all over.

  ‘Only at fighting,’ I said. I pondered. I looked at his funny little feet in their highly polished Clarks lace-ups. It didn’t look like he’d be much of a kicker. His tiny teeth only seemed capable of a hamster nibble, not a vicious vampire bite. Other tactics might be required. I tried to think what I did those rare times when I was up against some huge gorilla guy who could jump up and down all over me. Easy. I got lippy (and then ran).

  ‘See this,’ I said to Alexander, and I stuck out my tongue. It is a very long pink tongue and I can waggle it till I almost touch my ears. Alexander backed away nervously. I replaced my tongue with pride. ‘It’s more cutting than the sharpest knife.’

  Alexander nodded in agreement. I wondered if he got what I meant.

  ‘You want to say something really cutting to those boys at your school.’

  ‘Oh sure,’ said Alexander. I detected a surprising spot of sarcasm. ‘Then they’d beat me up even more.’

  Maybe he had a point.

  ‘So why don’t you say something to make them laugh? Like when you’re in the showers?’

  ‘They laugh at me already.’

  ‘Make them laugh more.’ I thought hard, trying to imagine myself into the situation. I got the giggles. ‘I know!’ I snorted. ‘You tell them they might all have zonking great cucumbers but you’re very happy with your own little gherkin.’

  Alexander blinked at me. ‘I can’t say that!’

  ‘Yes you can.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Yes you would. I dare you. There. Now you’ve got to say it. If you want to be my friend.’

  Alexander looked puzzled. ‘Are we friends?’

  The cheek of it!

  ‘Don’t you want to be friends?’ I demanded.

  Alexander nodded. Wisely.

  ‘Right. So we’re friends. And we’ll meet up again tomorrow?’ I said.

  Same time. Same place. He’d better be there. I hope he organizes some more refreshments.

  Football’s Home

  IT WAS A little bit dodgy getting away. Cam came over all stroppy about school and the fact that I’ve been bunking off. Not that I told her. I’m not into that True Confession lark. But the head phoned her up to tell her little Tracy was conspicuously absent and Cam got seriously fussed.

  She started giving me a l-o-n-g lecture and I just happened to give the teeniest little yawn. Cam caught hold of me by the shoulders so I had to look at her. ‘Tracy, this is serious.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  ‘I mean it.’ Her silly short hair was sticking up all over the place. I can’t see why she can’t grow her hair into a decent style. She’d look so much better if she wore make-up too. I don’t know why she doesn’t want to make herself look pretty. Like my mum.

  I didn’t really want to look at her. I blinked so that my eyes went blurry and I just mumbled ‘Mmm.’ Then I wriggled. ‘You’re digging into my shoulders, Cam.’

  She looked like she really wanted to dig straight through my skin but she just nodded and let me go. ‘It is serious, Trace. You keep on and you’ll be excluded.�€