Read The Dare Game Page 13


  'How about coming home with us for tea?'

  said Alexander's mum. 'You too, dear,' she added, nodding at Football a little warily.

  'Yes, do come,' Alexander begged. 'My mum's mega-good at baking. Can we have chocolate cake, Mum?'

  Football seemed keen on the idea. His own tea was usually just a trip down to the chippie. I was equally happy to go along with things seeing as I was starving hungry (it seemed months since I'd munched my Big Mac) and I didn't have any

  home of my own to go to.

  We helped Alexander

  out onto the hospital

  steps. His dad went to get

  the car and his mum

  returned the wheelchair to

  the ward. Football and I

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  supported Alexander, one on either side.

  'You're a real gem for not telling your mum and dad it was all my fault,' I whispered, and I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  'It was my fault really,' said Football. 'I kept picking on you. But I won't any more, I swear.'

  I could feel Alexander trembling. His face was peony red. 'You're both really my friends?

  You're not kidding me? This is so great!'

  'You're great. Alexander the Great. Though you're also crazy, because your so-called friends have broken your leg,' I said.

  'Yeah, you've had to spend hours and hours in hospital,' said Football.

  'I like it in hospital,' said Alexander. 'It's been ever so interesting. The doctor showed me the X-ray and explained all about bones and it was fascinating. I think I might be a doctor when I grow up. So I suppose I'd really better stop bunking off school or I won't pass my exams. You have to get top grades to do Medicine. And school won't be anywhere near as bad if I'm off games for six whole weeks.

  Then you'll just have to push me hard again, Tracy, so I can break my other leg.'

  'It was only a little push!'

  'I know. I fell awkwardly. I am awkward.

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  That's why I'm so useless at football. My legs don't work the right way.'

  'Your head's fine though,' said Football.

  'Here, maybe I'll train you to do my famous Bonce-Buster so you can head the ball into the back of the net, easy-peasy.'

  'That would be great,' said Alexander.

  'That would be a blooming miracle,' I said.

  Alexander and Football seemed to be bonding like Superglue. They chatted together in the car all the way to Alexander's home.

  It was a huge house, one of those big black and white ones with criss-cross windows and neat little trees in tubs on either side of the front door. We hadn't realized quite how posh Alexander is. Things got even ritzier inside, with polished wood everywhere and matching sofas and chairs

  so vigorously tidied with

  cushions at exact angles

  that I only dared perch on

  the end of a hard chair with

  red and white stripes like

  toothpaste. Football stayed in

  the middle of the carpet

  standing on the outside edge of his trainers, his ball clasped close to his chest.

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  Alexander's mum got Alexander tucked up on an armchair with his bad leg propped on a footstool, and then she went away to make us all tea.

  Alexander's dad gave us another one of his lectures about bunking off school and it all got seriously heavy and Alexander's face was as white and stiff as his plaster and Football rested his chin on his ball and I slid down the red and white stripes till my bottom was off the seat altogether. But then Alexander's mum came darting back with juice and home-made chocolate chip cookies which livened things up a little. I thought this was tea but it turned out this was just to keep us going until she'd cooked the real tea. She wanted Football and me to ring home to explain we were out for tea so no-one would worry.

  Football said his mum was at work so she wouldn't know – and added under his breath that she couldn't care less anyway.

  'And what about your foster mother, Tracy, dear?' said Alexander's mum.

  'She won't worry either, honestly,' I said firmly, though Alexander frowned at me.

  Football had to drop his football to cope with his juice and cookie. His ball started 227

  rolling away so he gave it a nifty little kick up onto his trainer and back again.

  'That was neat footwork, lad,' said Alexander's dad.

  'Football's brilliant at football, Dad,' said Alexander proudly.

  'I'm not bad,' Football mumbled, surprisingly bashful.

  Alexander's dad started talking soccer-speak and after a few sentences Football joined in, and even demonstrated a few of his party tricks.

  'Ooh dear, you will watch

  the ornaments, won't you?'

  said Alexander's mum,

  rushing back with bowls

  of crisps and saucers of

  Smarties.

  'How about if we nip out into the garden, lad?' said Alexander's dad.

  They went out through the French windows and almost immediately they were kicking the ball backwards and forwards like old pals.

  Alexander peered at them a little wistfully.

  'My dad likes Football,' he said.

  'He likes you too, Alexander. Underneath.'

  Alexander frowned and shook his head.

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  'Well, your mum definitely likes you.'

  Alexander gave a little nod.

  'And Football likes you. And I like you lots and lots. You do know that, don't you, Alexander?'

  He seemed to. His head was bobbing about like he was little Noddy. 'I like you too, Tracy,' he said. 'And Football likes you ever so. He wants you to be his girlfriend.'

  'Well. I'm not so sure about that,' I said. 'I might be his girlfriend. But I'll be your girlfriend too. If you want.'

  'I do want! And – and your mum maybe can't always like you, but Cam does. It sounds like she really really cares about you.'

  'No she doesn't. Anyway. I've blown it with her.'

  I let myself think properly about Cam. All the stuff we did together. Daft things – like we'd dance to Top of the Pops and we'd shout out silly answers to the quizzes and we'd invent all sorts of new rude funny things to happen in all the soaps. And at night Cam would always tuck me up and ruffle my hair.

  And if I got scared at night – a bad dream or something – I could always go and climb into her bed. She'd moan and go, 'Oh Tracy Fidget 229

  Bottom,' but she'd still cuddle me close. And though her food was so boring and healthy she took me to McDonald's too. And when I didn't get invited to Roxanne's party at school Cam said we could have our own private party just us two instead and we even had birthday cake.

  It wasn't all Party

  Time of course. She

  could get dead narked

  sometimes and do a real

  moody on me – but then

  I suppose I could get a

  bit stroppy at times

  too. She didn't ever

  leave me alone at home. She didn't go off with any men. And one time when she was going to this very special concert with Jane and Liz and another friend was looking after me, Cam cancelled because I had this stomach upset.

  Imagine, she gave up going to a concert to mop up all my sick.

  We got on OK, Cam and me. Like real friends. Sisters. A l m o s t . . . almost like she was my mum.

  It was weird. Alexander's mum fixed us this most magnificent tea ever, with pizza 230

  triangles and quiche

  fingers and little

  sausages and amazing

  chocolate cake and a

  sponge with pink icing

  too and ice cream with

  special strawberry sauce – but when it was in my mouth it all tasted like Alexander's cardboard.

  I couldn't chew properly because I had this big lump in my throat.

  I wanted to go home.

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  So I did go
home. Alexander's dad insisted on driving me back to Cam's. He took Football too and they were still so busy nattering about football that they didn't notice I was getting quieter and quieter until I said nothing at all for the last five minutes.

  I jumped out the car and waved goodbye to them and then I stared at the door and put my finger on the bell like I was actually pressing it. I heard the car drive off behind me. I stayed standing still with my finger hovering above the bell until my entire arm went numb. I rehearsed again and again in

  my head the things I was going

  to say. They all sounded stupid.

  I decided I couldn't say anything.

  I couldn't face seeing Cam

  because I was sure she'd push

  me away and tell me to clear off.

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  I would if she'd treated me the way I'd treated her.

  I couldn't go back to my own mum. But I didn't have to wander the streets or crouch on cardboard furniture in our empty house. I knew the social services emergency number.

  I could summon Elaine within the hour and she'd be able to find me a bed for the night and get cracking on my case in the morning. Social workers don't ever give up on you. She'd grit her bunny teeth and do her level best to find me a new home.

  But I didn't want a new home. I knew what I wanted even though it was too late. My finger suddenly stabbed all by itself and the bell rang and rang and rang. Then I heard footsteps running and the door flew open and there was Cam, her hair sticking up and her eyes red and her cardie on all the wrong buttons and yet she suddenly looked the most wonderful woman in the whole world.

  'Cam!'

  'Tracy!'

  I leapt up at her and threw my

  arms round her neck and she

  hugged me tighter than tight and we held each other as if we could 234

  never ever bear to let go. I was dimly aware that J a n e and Liz came out into the hall and joined in the hug for a moment and then they patted Cam on the back and ruffled my hair and then let themselves out the door, leaving Cam and me on our own. Hugging and sniffing and snuggling. There was a little damp patch seeping through my curls.

  'Your tears are dripping on my head!' I mumbled.

  'Yours are making my shoulder all soggy,'

  Cam sniffed.

  'I'm not crying. It's hay fever,' I insisted.

  'Idiot!' said Cam, hugging me harder.

  'I thought you'd be really really cross with me.'

  'I am really really cross,' Cam said fondly.

  'Where have you been? Elaine and I have been going frantic ever since your mum rang to say you'd done a bunk. The police are out looking for you, I hope you realize.'

  'Wow! What about telling the telly people?

  I hope I'm on the news. Can we video it?'

  'I'd better phone everyone in a minute to say you're safe. So what happened, Tracy?

  Your mum said she thought everything was fine. She's very upset.'

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  'She couldn't wait to get shot of me!'

  'That's not true. She really cares about you.

  You know she does. Look at all the presents.'

  'Yeah. The presents. The doll and the chocolates and all that other stuff I didn't want.'

  'It looks like you got some seriously cool combat trousers from her,' said Cam, holding me at arm's length and admiring my legs.

  'I know. I like the clothes OK. And she was fun some of the time. She dressed me up in her stuff and it was great. But then she got fed up.

  She got fed up with me. She left me on my own while she went out drinking.'

  'She shouldn't have done that,' said Cam, cuddling me close again. 'Was that when you ran away?'

  'No, I cleared off this morning. She couldn't wait to get rid of me, Cam, really. So I thought I'd do her a favour and push off out of it.'

  'And worry us all silly. Where did you go?'

  'I got the train back.'

  'Yes, OK, but where have you been all day?

  I've been round and round the town looking for you in the shops and McDonald's and everywhere I could think of. I even went to the school.'

  'Are you crazy? As if I'd ever go there!'

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  'Well, where did you go then?' Cam put her hand under my chin so that I had to look up at her. 'Tell me, Tracy.'

  I suddenly wanted to tell her. 'There's this house I go

  to. I've been there lots of

  times. When I should be at

  school, only don't get mad at

  me. I see some people there.'

  All sorts of expressions were flickering across Cam's face as if she was a human kal-eidoscope. 'Which house? Which people?' she said, struggling to sound casual, though her fingers were digging right into my shoulders.

  'It's an empty house. No-one lives there. But these boys sometimes go there too. Alexander and Football. They're OK. They're my mates.

  Hey, they both want to be my boyfriend!'

  'You're a bit young for boyfriends, aren't you, Tracy?'

  'If you could see Alexander you wouldn't worry about him! And I can manage Football OK. Easy-peasy.'

  'Do they go to your school?'

  'Nope. Football's older- and Alexander goes to this posh all-boys place.'

  'But they bunk off too?'

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  'Well, Football's excluded, so he can't go to school even if he wants. And Alexander's going to go back to his school now because he's decided he needs to do well in his exams.'

  'Good for Alexander! So what are you going to do, Tracy? Get yourself excluded from school altogether or go back and try hard?'

  'It's not like I've got a real choice. Alexander's an old brainy box, top of everything.'

  'You've got a brainbox inside here too, you know,' said Cam, gently tapping me on the top of my head with her fist.

  'Oh sure – and Mrs Vomit Bagley's going to make me her little teacher's pet and all the kids will want me to be their best friend?' I said sarcastically.

  'You won't be in Mrs Bagley's class for ever.

  And it sounds as if you've got the knack of making friends now. But if you really hate this school we'll try again to get you in somewhere else. Liz says she might be able to get you into her school.'

  'I bet she wouldn't half boss me about if she was my teacher.'

  'You need bossing about. You're the naughtiest kid I know.'

  'But you still want me back?'

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  'You know I do.'

  'Even after all the stuff I said?'

  'I said stuff too. But that's OK. People who love each other are allowed to have quarrels.'

  'Love?' I said, my heart going

  thump thump thump.

  'I love you,' said Cam.

  My heart shone scarlet like a

  Valentine. 'No-one's ever loved

  me before.'

  'Your mum loves you too,'

  said Cam. 'Maybe she's changed

  her mind about having you back on a permanent basis, but I'm sure she'll want to keep in touch.'

  'Or maybe she'll wait another five years,'

  I said. 'We'll see. I don't care. I'll be OK with you, Cam. If that's what you really want.'

  'Is it what you want, Tracy?'

  'You know it is.'

  I looked all round me. We were still in the hall. I looked down at the dingy bare floorboards and up at the grubby ceiling and around at the tattered posters on the walls. 'Though we could get this old dump smartened up a bit,' I said. 'Seeing as it's my home too. We could get a proper carpet for a start.'

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  'Maybe a rug,' said Cam. 'We could make one together, you and me.'

  'And paint the walls something bright. Red!'

  'Something subtle. Claret? Burgundy? Let's have a drink to celebrate your homecoming.

  Red wine for me, Coke for you, right?' Cam put her arm round my shoulders and we walked towards the kitchen.

  'We could have new posters. You c
ould choose. Bright ones,' Cam offered, resticking a tattered corner to the wall with a blutack blob.

  I concentrated on the picture. There was a great big beach with a piano stuck on the sand with a little girl sitting on top, and a woman in a long dress and bonnet by her side.

  'Why have they got a piano on the sand?'

  'It's from a film. My favourite. About this mother and daughter. I've got it on video. Do you want to watch it?'

  So we watch it together.

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  And the next day we got to watch my favourite film together.

  There's no place like home. Well, most of the time. Cam and I still have mega-arguments sometimes.

  Lots of times.

  But then we make up.

  We have great times

  together. Cam cooks me

  special treats.

  Sometimes I cook her

  special treats too.

  We work

  together

  and go out

  together and

  make things

  together and

  muck about together

  and chat together.

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  Of course we can't do everything together.

  I have to go to school, worse luck, worse luck, worse luck. I might be able to switch to Liz's school at the end of this term but till then I'm stuck with Mrs Vomit Bagley and Roxanne and all her putrid pals

  and even though this

  is a Happy Ever After

  ending Mrs V.B. is

  still the Wicked Witch and Roxanne is that weirdo princess that spews up toads and frogs every time she talks.

  Mr Hatherway is all right though.

  I've made a new friend at school too.

  He's called Trevor and he's the

  smallest boy in Year Three and everyone picks on him. (He's the one who had the nosebleed, remember?) Mr Hatherway asked if I'd keep an eye on him in the playground. So I do.

  Nobody dares go near little Trev when I'm around.

  I think Trevor likes me, though

  he doesn't say much.

  I know Alexander likes me -

  and he says lots and lots. I've been to his house again. I ate all my tea this time, and had a second and

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  then a third helping of cake. Alexander's been to my house too. Alexander had a great time.