Dare Game (25 page)

‘Tracy!’ he said, his eyes lighting up.

It felt so good that someone was pleased to see me that I gave his bony little shoulder a squeeze. ‘Hi, Chippendale,’ I said.

Alexander peered at me. ‘Chip . . .?’ he said. ‘Aren’t they those big oily men who take off all their clothes? Are you teasing me?’

‘Hey, Alexander, you’re the one who’s supposed to be the brainbox. I mean Chippendale as in
furniture
. He was some old guy in history who made posh chairs, right?’

‘Oh, I
see
,’ said Alexander, busily slotting one piece of cardboard into two grooves.

‘Another chair, maestro?’

‘No, I’m making a bookcase this time. I thought it would be great to have a bookcase. So we could keep our books in it. I could keep my
Alexander the Great
book
here
. And you could keep your diary in it.’

‘
What
diary?’

‘Well, whatever you write in your big fat purple book.’

‘If you’ve been peeking in my big fat purple book I’ll poke your eyes out!’

‘I wouldn’t dare, Tracy. Oops!’ Alexander rolled his eyes. ‘No more dares, eh?’

‘Not for the moment, anyway. So. What are you doing here, Alexander? I thought you weren’t going to come any more.’

‘I know. My dad will kill me when he finds out I’ve been bunking off again. But when I went back to school I limped for all I was worth but Mr Cochran, he’s the games master, he said I was a pathetic little weed and I had to play anyway. So I tried. And I got pushed over. And it hurt a lot so my eyes watered. And then everyone said I was crying and that just proved how weedy and wet I am and someone said “Gherkin is a jerkin” and they all started chanting it and—’

‘I get the general picture,’ I said. ‘Still. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.’

‘It kind of feels that way to me.’

‘Some silly stuck-up kids call you names. And one of the teachers picks on you. Oh boo
hoo
! That’s
nothing
. You want to hear what some of the kids at my school call me. And Miss Vomit Bagley has
really
got it in for me. She picks on me all the time – when I’m there. I bet some of your teachers think you’re the bee’s knees because you’re a right old swotty brainbox.’

‘Well . . .’ Alexander considered. ‘Yes, Mr Bernstein and Mr Rogers like me, and Mrs Betterstall says I’m—’

‘Yeah yeah yeah. See? And I bet your horrible old dad really cares about you or he wouldn’t go on so. I haven’t even
got
a dad, have I?’

‘You’ve got a mum though,’ said Alexander, slotting the last cardboard shelf into place. He stood the bookcase up for me to admire – and then saw my face. He suddenly remembered. ‘Oh! Your mum!’

‘What about her?’ I said fiercely.

‘You were meant to be staying with her.’

‘Yeah. Well. I got a bit fed up, if you must know.’

‘Didn’t she buy you all that stuff you wanted?’

‘Yes, she did. She bought me heaps and heaps. Look!’ I did a twirl in my new combat trousers.

‘Oh yes,’ said Alexander quickly.

‘The trousers. Yes. They look super-cool. You look lovely, Tracy.’

‘No I don’t,’ I said, sitting down beside him. ‘I look funny. My mum says.’

‘Well, you
are
funny,’ said Alexander. ‘That’s good, isn’t it? Tracy . . . what went wrong with you and your mum?’ He patted my knee timidly. ‘Didn’t she like you?’

I jerked away from him. ‘Nothing went wrong. I told you. My mum’s crazy about me. She can’t make enough of a fuss of me. But after a bit I just thought, hey, who needs this? I don’t need
her
.’

‘Ah! You need
Cam
, don’t you?’ said Alexander, looking immensely pleased. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

‘No!’ I folded my arms. ‘You’re wrong wrong wrong. I don’t need her.’

Alexander still wouldn’t be squashed. ‘Well, you need me. And Football. We’re your friends.’

‘I don’t need you either. I don’t need no-one.’

‘That’s a double negative. If you don’t need
no
-one it means you need
some
one, don’t you see?’

‘I see that you’re the most annoying little Smartypants and it’s no wonder everyone picks on you. You really get on my nerves.’ I gave him a push. Then I gave his bookcase a push too.

‘Watch my bookcase!’ said Alexander.

‘It’s a rubbish bookcase,’ I said, and my fist went thump thump thump.

‘My bookcase!’ Alexander wailed.

‘It’s
my
house and I don’t want your stupid bookcase in it, see?’

‘I’ll make one specially for you,’ Alexander offered, trying to slot his shelves back into place.

‘I don’t want you to make anything for me. I don’t need
anything
. It’s my house and I don’t want a single rubbish thing in it. I’m sick of homes, I’m sick of stuff. I want it to be
empty
.’ I smashed his stupid bookcase flat and then I whirled round the living room, breaking up all Alexander’s furniture.

‘Don’t, Tracy! Don’t! Don’t!’ Alexander shouted.

I smashed. Alexander screamed. Football
suddenly
came haring into the house.

‘What is it? What’s going on? You two all right?’ he said. He looked about him. ‘Who’s turned the place over?’

‘Oh Football, thank goodness!’ said Alexander, clinging to him. ‘Stop Tracy. She’s wrecking everything. Even my new bookcase.’

‘Sounds a good idea to me,’ said Football, shaking Alexander off. ‘Yeah, let’s have a bit of fun, right, Tracy? What you doing here anyway? Didn’t your mum want you after all?’

‘You shut up, Football.’ I glared at him. ‘Your mum doesn’t want you. And neither does your precious dad.’

I had to hurt everyone to show I didn’t need any of them. So they couldn’t hurt me. ‘How’s your dad, Football? How’s your dad, Alexander?’ I said.

‘Quit it,’ said Football.

‘Why don’t we
all
quit it?’ Alexander begged. ‘Let’s make friends and . . . and mend the furniture.’

‘Shut up, Gherkin,’ said Football. ‘Who cares about your boring old furniture?’ He flicked his dad’s lighter, waving it at the crumpled bookcase.

‘Stop it!’ Alexander shouted.

‘Don’t tell
me
to stop anything!’ said Football, flicking again.

The flame leapt at the cardboard, singeing it for a second and then suddenly flaming.

‘You’re
crazy
!’ said Alexander.

‘Shut up,’ said Football, stamping just in time.

‘You’ll set yourself alight! You’ll set the whole place on fire,’ Alexander cried. ‘You mustn’t ever ever ever play with fire.’

‘Oooh, aren’t I
naughty
!’ said Football, imitating Alexander’s high-pitched voice.

I giggled and Football grinned at me.

‘Let’s liven this dump up, eh, Tracy?’ he said. He threw the lighter to me. ‘Your turn.’

‘Don’t, Tracy. Don’t be so
stupid
,’ Alexander begged.

‘I dare you, Tracy,’ said Football.

I swallowed, the lighter hot in my hand.

‘You mustn’t, Tracy. You can’t start that
awful
Dare Game again.
Please
don’t dare. You know it’s crazy!’

Of course I knew it was crazy. But I
felt
crazy.

I suddenly flicked the lighter and held it to my small card-board-box chair. A sudden flame leapt in the air. I went to stamp it out – but I wasn’t big enough.

‘Don’t! You’ll burn yourself!’ Alexander screamed.

Football tried to elbow me out the way but I was determined to win this dare. I seized the flattened bookcase and beat hard at the flame – and it went out.

‘There! I did it! I won the dare!’ I yelled, leaping around and punching the air.

‘That’s great, kid. You and me, we’re the greatest,’ yelled Football.

‘You’re the greatest
idiots
,’ said Alexander tearfully.

‘You always try to spoil everything, Alexander,’ I said. ‘Go on. It’s your turn now. I dare you.’

‘No!’

‘Come on, you’ve got to, if I dare you.’ I
tried
to pass him the lighter but he put his fists behind his back.

‘I’m not going to. It’s mad and dangerous,’ said Alexander.

‘He hasn’t got the bottle,’ said Football, sneering.

‘Go on, Alexander,’ I said. ‘You felt great last time after you jumped out the window.’

Alexander shook his head violently. ‘I was mad then. What if the mattress hadn’t been there? I’d have been killed. I’m not taking any more chances.’

‘Coward! Chicken!’

‘Cluck cluck cluck!’

‘You can cluck and call me all the names you like,’ said Alexander. ‘I’m still not going to do it.’

‘Because you’re too scared,’ I said.

‘You’re only doing it because
you’re
scared,’ said Alexander. ‘Scared Football won’t think you as tough as he is. Only he’s scared too.’

‘
I’m
scared?’ said Football, outraged. ‘Who am I scared of, Gherkin?’ He took the lighter from me and stood in front of Alexander, flicking it on and off, on and off. ‘Am I scared of you, is that it? Or scared of skinny little
Tracy
? I’m not scared of anyone, you stupid jerk.’

Alexander still didn’t give up. ‘You’re scared your dad doesn’t care about you any more, that’s what you’re scared of.’