Starring Tracy Beaker Read online

  And we're having breakfast out, OK?'

  She drove us for miles to this big park. It wasn't snowing but it was still early enough for there to be a frost so we could kid ourselves it was a real white Christmas.

  'Come on!' said Cam, parking the car. She opened the door. It certainly felt frosty. I hadn't got quite enough woollies.

  'It's freezing, Cam! Can't we stay in the car?'

  'We're going for a walk, Tracy, to work up an appetite for our breakfast.'

  'You go for a walk. I'll stay in the car and watch you,' I said.

  She dragged me out,

  rammed her own woolly

  hat over my head,

  wound her scarf round

  and round and round me

  as if she was wrapping

  a mummy, and

  then took me

  by the hand.

  'There! Cosy now?

  Off we go!'

  'I'm not really into long country walks, Cam.

  I'm not built for it. Look at my spindly legs.' I made my knees knock together and walked with a Tiny Tim limp.

  'Just come down this path with me,' said Cam, tugging me. 'Through the trees. You'll like what you see when you get to the end.'

  I knew what I'd see. Scenery. A lot more trees and a hill or two. I didn't see the point. Still, it was Christmas after all. I didn't want to be too difficult. I sighed and staggered after Cam. I didn't get why she wanted to stay out in the cold, especially before breakfast.

  'I don't want to moan, but my tummy's rumbling rather a lot. It's saying, Tracy, Tracy, what's happened to my cornflakes?'

  'You'll have breakfast very soon, I promise,'

  said Cam, laughing.

  'Are we having a picnic then?' I asked.

  It seemed a mad time of year to have a picnic and I didn't see any signs of a hamper. Cam wasn't carrying so much as a lunch box. Perhaps she had a sandwich or two crammed in her pockets? It looked like it was going to be a very little picnic, yet I was totally starving.

  Cam and I weren't the only ones embarking 157

  on this mad early-morning Starve-In. There were lots of other cars in the car park and little bunches of bobble-hatted muffled weirdos trudged along too, all heading in the same direction. It was like we were all in Doctor Who and some alien force was messing with our heads, controlling our minds.

  Then we rounded a bend. I saw a big pond in the distance. A lot of people were in the pond.

  No, no, they were on it, gliding across.

  'They're skating!' I said.

  'Yep.'

  'Can we skate?'

  'We'll have a go.'

  'But we haven't got any skates.'

  'You can hire them, Tracy, I checked. And they're serving a special Christmas breakfast.'

  'Oh, wow! So you planned it all? Oh, Cam, you have some seriously cool ideas.'

  I gave her a quick hug and then started running helter-skelter to the ice. There was a big van serving golden croissants and hot chocolate with whipped cream. We had breakfast first, just to fortify ourselves, and then we hired our skates, held

  hands and hobbled onto the ice.

  I thought I'd glide off like a

  swan, swoop-swoop, swirl-

  swirl, the epitome of

  athletic grace.

  Ha! I staggered

  like a drunk,

  clonk-clunk, whizz,

  whoops, bonk on my

  bum. Cam pulled me up,

  trying not to laugh.

  'Look, Tracy, point

  your boots out and do

  it like this,' she said,

  demonstrating.

  Some kid hurtled

  past her, making her

  jump. She wavered,

  wobbled – and then

  went bonk on her bum.

  I did laugh and Cam laughed too.

  'I don't know about woolly knickers. I think we both need padded knickers,' she said as I pulled her up.

  We held onto each other and tried again. This time we staggered all the way round the pond. I started to get more daring. I tried a little swoop.

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  It worked! I tried another – left, right, truly gliding – only I couldn't seem to stop. I went charging straight into a little cluster of kids in a line and mowed them all down.

  'We're going to have to rename you Tracy Bulldozer,' said Cam, hauling us all up.

  We skated for over an hour, losing count of the number of times we both fell

  over, but we could also both glide properly for a few seconds

  at a time, so considered

  ourselves champion

  skaters.

  'I think we deserve

  another breakfast after all

  that effort,' said Cam,

  and we polished off

  another croissant and

  mug of hot chocolate.

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  Then Cam drove us back to her house.

  She had a little Christmas tree in her living room.

  'I usually don't bother, but they were selling them half price in the market yesterday so I decided to go mad.'

  'It looks a bit naked if you don't mind me saying so. Aren't you meant to have little glass balls and tinsel and fairy lights?' I said.

  'Of course you are. I thought it would be fun if we decorated the tree together,' said Cam. 'Look in that big carrier bag. There's all the decorations.'

  'Oh, fantastic! We don't have a proper tree at the Dumping Ground because the little kids are so dopey they might mistake the glass balls for apples and the big kids are so rowdy they might knock it all over. I've always wanted to decorate a tree!'

  'Then be my guest. I'll go and sort out what we might be having for Christmas dinner. I know you don't go a bundle on turkey and I'm mostly veggie nowadays . . . I could do a sort of tofu and vegetable casserole?'

  'That sounds absolutely temptingly delicious

  – not!' I said.

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  'I rather thought that would be your response.

  I don't fancy faffing around in the kitchen for hours anyway. How about egg and chips?'

  'Now you're talking! With lots of tomato sauce?'

  'You can dollop it all over your plate, Tracy.

  It's Christmas. Ah! What else do you get at Christmas? We've got a Christmas tree. We'll have our Christmas dinner. But there's something else you have at Christmas. Um. What could it be? Oh yes! Presents!'

  She opened up a cupboard and

  pulled out three parcels

  in jolly Santa wrapping

  paper tied with red

  ribbon.

  'Oh, Cam! Are they

  for me?'

  'Well, they've all got

  Tracy Beaker on the labels,

  so if that's your

  name I'd say it was a safe bet they're all for you.'

  I felt really really really great.

  Cam had bought me loads of lovely

  presents.

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  I felt really really really bad. I hadn't got Cam anything.

  'Oh dear, why the saddo face? Did

  you hope there might be more?' Cam teased.

  'You haven't got any presents, Cam!' I wailed.

  'Yes I have. I've opened mine already. I got a silk headscarf from my mum – as if I'd ever wear it! Plus a posh credit-card holder when I'm so overdrawn I can't use my blooming cards anyway.

  I got lovely presents from my friends though.

  Jane gave me my woolly hat and scarf and mittens and Liz gave me a big box of chocs and a book token.'

  'What's a book token?'

  'It's a little card for a certain amount of money and when you take it to a shop you can change it for any book you fancy'

  'Oh, I get it.' I nodded. 'Good idea!'

  'Come on then, open your presents from me.'

  I opened the heaviest first. It was ten children's paperbacks. They were all a bit dog-eared and tattered.

  'I