The Jacqueline Wilson Christmas Cracker Read online

  ‘Steady on, Tracy! Don’t drink it all – you’ll get drunk!’ said Cam. I didn’t want to break the spell so I ignored her. I took another gulp and then spluttered and choked. The potion went up my nose and then snorted back out of it in a totally disgusting fashion. I gasped while Cam patted me on the back and mopped me with a tissue.

  ‘Oh dear, have I mucked up the magic?’ I wheezed.

  ‘No, no, you absorbed the potion through extra orifices so I guess that makes it even more potent,’ said Cam. ‘Still, seriously, no more! Jenny would never forgive me if I took you back to the Home totally blotto.’

  ‘Oh gosh, Cam, I think I am utterly totally sloshed out of my skull,’ I slurred, reeling around, pretending to trip and stumble.

  ‘Tracy!’ said Cam, rushing to catch me.

  ‘Only joking!’ I giggled.

  ‘Well, maybe I’d better have a swig too if it’s as potent as that,’ said Cam.

  She took the spoon and stirred it around herself, and then she mouthed something before she took a sip, drinking from the wrong side of the glass without drawing breath. Then she choked too, dribbling all down her chin. It was my turn to clap her on the back.

  ‘Hey, gently, Tracy!’ Cam spluttered. ‘Oh God. It tastes revolting. What a waste of wine. Let’s hope it jolly well works for both of us.’

  ‘So who is your Loved One?’ I said.

  I wasn’t too happy about this. As far as I knew Cam didn’t have any Loved Ones, and that suited me just fine. I didn’t want some bloke commandeering her on Saturdays and mucking up our special days together.

  I knew what blokes could be like. That’s how I started off in Care. My mum got this awful Monster Gorilla Boyfriend and he was horrible to me so I had to be taken away. I’d just like to see him try now. I was only little then. Well, I’m still quite little now but I am Incredibly Fierce and a Ferocious Fighter. Just ask Justine Bashed-To-A-Pulp Littlewood. If I encountered Monster Gorilla Boyfriend now I’d karate-chop him and then I’d kick him downstairs, out of the door, out of my life.

  If Cam’s anonymous Loved One started any funny business then he’d definitely get treated the same way. Beware the Beaker Boyfriend Deterrent!

  ‘You haven’t got a boyfriend, have you, Cam?’ I asked her, as she fixed me a fruit smoothie to take away the terrible taste of the potion.

  ‘A boyfriend?’ said Cam, looking reassuringly surprised. ‘Oh Tracy, don’t you start. My mum always goes on at me whenever I see her.’ She put on this piercing posh voice. ‘Haven’t you met any decent men yet, Camilla? Mind you, I’m not surprised no one’s interested. Look at the state of you – that terrible short haircut and those wretched jeans!’

  Cam poured herself a glass of wine and took several sips. ‘Oh dear. Shut me up whenever I get onto the subject of my mum.’ She shuddered dramatically. ‘OK, how’s about trying a plateful of cinnamon toast?’

  It was utterly yummy. I had six slices. I didn’t get Cam’s mum-phobia. I love talking about my mum. But then I’ve got the best and most beautiful movie-star actress for a mum. Maybe I wouldn’t be anywhere near as keen if I had a snobby old bag for a mum like Cam.

  I usually hate it when Cam takes me back to the Dumping Ground but I was quite cool about it this evening because I had Mega Things to Do. I raided Elaine’s art therapy cupboard (I’m ace at picking locks) and helped myself to lots of bright pink tissue paper and the best thin white card and a set of halfway-decent felt-tip pens.

  It wasn’t really stealing. I was using them for dead artistic and extremely therapeutic purposes.

  I shoved my art materials up my jumper and shuffled my way up to my room and then proceeded to be Creative. I was still actively Creating when Jenny knocked on my door. She tried to come in but she couldn’t, on account of the fact that I’d shoved my chair hard against it to repel all intruders.

  ‘What are you up to in there, Tracy? Let me in!’

  ‘Do you mind, Jenny? I’m working on something dead secret.’

  ‘That’s what I was afraid of! What are you doing? I want to see.’

  ‘No, you mustn’t look. I’m making Christmas presents,’ I hissed.

  ‘Ah!’ said Jenny. ‘Oh, Tracy, how lovely. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’ll leave you alone. But it’s getting late. Switch your light out soon, pet.’

  She went off down the corridor humming ‘Jingle Bells’, obviously thinking I was making her Christmas present. I’d have to get cracking now and make her something. Ditto Mike. Ditto Elaine. And ditto Cam, of course, though I would have liked to give her a proper present. Still, I had to have my priorities. Mum came first.

  I wrapped the lipstick in pink tissue. Then I cut out a rectangle from the cardboard, drew a pair of smiley pink lips and carefully printed in tiny neat letters:

  I stuck the label on the first packet and then made three more. I drew two hands on the second label and printed:

  I stuck this label on the wrapped hand lotion.

  On the third label I drew a big pulsing heart and printed:

  Then I wrapped up the beautiful heart necklace, taking care not to twist the red ribbon, and stuck the label on the pink tissue parcel.

  Three presents wrapped and labelled. Just one to go! It took the longest though, because I had to annotate the book of A Christmas Carol. I drew me dressed up as Scrooge inside the front cover, with a special bubble saying, ‘Bah! Humbug!’

  I drew me dressed up as Scrooge inside the back cover too, but this time I was taking a bow at the end of my performance. There were lots of clapping hands and speech bubbles saying HURRAY! and MAGNIFICENT! and WELL DONE, TRACY! and THE GREATEST PERFORMANCE EVER! and A TRUE STAR IS BORN!

  I wrote on the title page:

  Then I wrapped A Christmas Carol and worked on the last label. I drew the book, scrunching up the title really small so it would fit, and underneath I printed:

  Then I sat for a long time holding all four pink parcels on my lap, imagining my mum opening them and putting on her lipstick, rubbing in her hand lotion, fastening the heart necklace, looking at the messages in the book. I imagined her jumping in her car and driving directly to see her superstar daughter. She’d be so proud of me she’d never ever want to go away without me.

  The next morning I cornered Jenny in her office and asked if she had a big Jiffy bag so I could send my presents to my mum.

  ‘It’s a little bit early to send your Christmas presents, isn’t it, Tracy?’ Jenny said.

  ‘No, no, these are before Christmas presents,’ I said. ‘We have to send them off first thing on Monday morning. First class.’

  ‘OK. First thing, first class. I suppose I’m paying the postage?’ said Jenny.

  ‘Yes, and can you write on the Jiffy bag Urgent! Open Immediately! Look, maybe I’d better do it,’ I said.

  ‘I think I can manage that, Tracy,’ said Jenny.

  ‘You are sure you’ve got my mum’s right address?’ I asked anxiously.

  They don’t let me have it now on account of the fact that I tried to run away to find her. They won’t let me have her phone number either. It is bitterly unfair, seeing as she’s my mother. I have had major mega strops about it, but they won’t give in.

  ‘Don’t worry, Tracy, I’ve got your mum’s address,’ said Jenny.

  ‘It’s just that it’s ultra important. I need her to come and see me in the school play,’ I said.

  ‘I’m so glad you’ve been picked for the play, Tracy. You will take it seriously, won’t you? No messing around or you’ll spoil it for everyone.’

  ‘Of course I’m taking it seriously, Jenny,’ I said, insulted.

  I was taking it very very very seriously – unlike some people. We had a play rehearsal every lunch time and half the kids mucked about and ate their sandwiches as they mumbled their lines. The carol singers sang off-key and the extra ghosts whimpered rather than wailed and the dancers kept bumping into each other and Weedy Peter kept forgetting his lines. He even forgot which was his lame