Dare Game Read online

  I started to think seriously about a treehouse. I could get Alexander to design it – not one of his cardboard concoctions, a proper planks of wood job. Football and I could knock it together and somehow secure it to the tree. Yes, a treehouse would be absolutely amazing. I could furnish it with blankets and cushions and have heaps of provisions and I could live up there all the time and spy on all my enemies and everyone would talk in awed tones about Tracy of the Treetops.

  I decided to make a start on the treehouse idea for real, but then I remembered I was going to live with my mum any minute now so there wasn’t any point and I got a bit distracted – and slipped. I scrabbled and grabbed the next branch down, hanging on for dear life. Or lousy life. Any kind of life.

  ‘Watch out, Tracy!’

  ‘Tracy! Come back! You’re the nutter now!’

  My heart was hammering and my hands were slippy with sweat but I thought I’d wind them up just a little bit more. I climbed higher, up and up, branch after branch, hand over hand, foot after foot, concentrating fiercely now. I climbed until I was fast running out of tree, the branches becoming so delicate and spindly that some broke right off when I took hold of them – but I dared go even higher so that I could just about reach up up up to the very top. I hooked my knickers round and attached them to the tip like a big white star.

  I saw stars too, a whole galaxy of constellations shining and sparkling in celebration. I’d done it! The most Daring Dare ever and I’d done it.

  Then I climbed all the way down, feeling my way with my feet, down and down and down until at long last I came level with the window, and there were Football and Alexander gazing out at me open-mouthed as if I was an angel swooping straight down from heaven.

  ‘Out the way then, you gawpers,’ I commanded, and they drew apart like curtains.

  I got ready to spring.

  I made it right through the window. I didn’t even fall over. I landed on my feet. Tracy the Fabulous Cat Girl with all her nine lives still in front of her.

  ‘How about that!’ I said, and I did this crazy dance around the room.

  Football danced with me, leaping about, clapping me on the back. ‘You’re the greatest, kid. Knickers off and all!’

  ‘Yeah, I’m the greatest, aren’t I? Aren’t I, Alexander?’

  ‘You’re the maddest!’ said Alexander. ‘I’m a total jelly with watching you. Look, I’m still shaking.’

  ‘Gherkin jelly! Yuck,’ I said.

  ‘You’re mad. You’re both mad,’ said Alexander. ‘Can’t you see? You could have been killed. It doesn’t make you the greatest.’

  ‘No, you’re the greatest! The greatest meanest bore ever,’ I said, poking him. How dare he try to spoil my Stupendous Achievement?

  ‘She is the greatest. And so am I,’ said Football, poking him too.

  ‘Stop poking me,’ said Alexander, hunching up small. ‘You’re not not not great, not just because you take stupid risks and nearly kill yourselves.’

  I was starting to feel like killing Alexander. He was acting like this irritating little gnat nipping away at my ankles. Any second now I’d stick out my hand and go SWAT.

  ‘Don’t make me really mad, Alexander,’ I warned him, giving him another poke.

  ‘You’re already mad at me for saying all that stuff about your mum. That’s why you keep picking on me.’

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with it,’ I said fiercely. I’m mad at you because you’re maddening!’

  ‘No wonder they all pick on you at your school,’ Football jeered. ‘No wonder even your own dad can’t stand you.’ He didn’t touch him this time but somehow it was worse than a poke.

  I wavered just a weeny bit. ‘Well, he must like him really.’

  ‘No he doesn’t,’ said Alexander. Big tears were rolling down his cheeks. ‘He can’t stand me.’

  I felt so mean that it made me even angrier with him. ‘That’s rubbish! Don’t be so stupid.’ I gave him a sudden push. ‘You’re really starting to irritate me now.’

  ‘You’ve always irritated me, Gherkin,’ said Football.

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ Alexander said, sniffling.

  ‘Gherkin, Gherkin, Gherkin!’ Football chanted. ‘Wizened little Gherkin who can’t play the Dare Game.’

  ‘I did play it! I did do a dare, didn’t I, Tracy?’

  ‘Yeah, you were mad enough to tell the whole school to call you Gherkin!’

  ‘Stop it!’

  ‘Gherkin, Gherkin, Gherkin!’ I yelled, right in his face.

  Football was right beside me. ‘You clear off, Gherkin, this is our house,’ he said.

  ‘I was here first,’ Alexander wept.

  ‘But we’re here now,’ I said.

  ‘And we don’t want you, do we, Trace?’

  I couldn’t be quite that mean. There was still a bit of me that wanted to put my arms round Alexander and give him a hug.

  Alexander saw me wavering. He gave a giant sniff. ‘I’ll do another dare if you let me stay!’

  ‘OK then, climb up the tree and fetch Tracy’s knickers back,’ said Football, quick as a wink.

  ‘No!’ I said.

  ‘Yes!’ said Football.

  ‘All right,’ said Alexander.

  ‘Don’t be crazy,’ I said, suddenly scared. It was like everything was spinning too fast and I couldn’t stop it. ‘Football, please. You can’t dare him to do that.’

  ‘I did it,’ said Football. ‘And you did it too, even though you’re little and only a girl.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Alexander. ‘I still think it’s mad and I’ll probably get killed but I don’t care. I’ll still do it. I’ll show you.’ He ran to the window.

  ‘You mustn’t, Alexander!’ I ran after him, but he was surprisingly fast. ‘You can’t climb, you can’t balance, you can’t do anything! You’ll fall!’

  ‘I told you, I don’t care,’ said Alexander, and he tried to jump up on the window ledge. He mistimed it completely and banged his nose hard on the window frame.

  ‘See, Alexander! Now you’re the one who’s being stupid,’ I said, rushing to him.

  He shook his head, stunned, his nose crimson.

  ‘Football, take the dare back quick,’ I said.

  ‘OK, OK, I take the dare back, Gherkin,’ said Football.

  ‘I’ll still do the dare if you promise never ever to call me Gherkin again,’ said Alexander, his voice muffled because his hands were cupping his sore nose.

  ‘You’re not doing any dare. You’re right, we were all crazy.’

  ‘You told me to go away,’ said Alexander, turning to the window.

  ‘I didn’t mean it,’ I said. ‘You’re my friend, Alexander. I like you. Football likes you too.’

  ‘No I don’t,’ said Football.

  ‘You do!’ I insisted.

  ‘No-one likes me, not really,’ said Alexander, and he made another dash for the window, a sudden quick dart that took us by surprise.

  He jumped high enough this time. He made the window ledge. But he didn’t stop. He swooped right out into space, like a little cartoon animal running in mid-air. But Alexander was real. He didn’t hang, give a yelp, and pedal backwards. He plummeted down . . . down down down into the dark garden below.

  The Garden Home

  WE THOUGHT HE was dead. He was still lying motionless when we hurtled downstairs and out the back window into the overgrown garden, his skinny arms and legs spread wide.

  ‘Alexander!’ I cried.

  ‘He’s copped it,’ said Football – and he started to snuffle. ‘I’ve murdered poor little Gherkin.’

  ‘You’re never to call me Gherkin again,’ Alexander squeaked in a little mouse voice.

  We fell on him, hugging him like he was our dearest friend.

  ‘Careful!’ said Alexander. ‘I’ve probably broken my neck. And my arms and legs. And all my ribs.’

  ‘Does it hurt terribly?’ I said, taking his little claw hand in mine.

  ‘I�€