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Authors: Jacqueline Wilson
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back to watching the frozen TV programme.
‘How did you get on at school?’ I asked.
He didn’t react, though his eyes flicked backwards and forwards as if the presenters were really doing something on the screen.
‘You know, with the big bully boys in the showers?’
Alexander sighed again and slumped even further into his shoulders. ‘The entire school calls me Gherkin now.’
I couldn’t help spluttering. Alexander looked at me as if I’d kicked him.
‘Sorry.
Sorry!
It just . . . sounded funny.’
‘Everyone thinks it’s very funny. Except me.’
‘Oh dear. Well. Never mind.’
‘I do mind. Dreadfully.’
‘Still.’ I struggled hard to say something optimistic. ‘At least you won the dare. I dared you to do it, didn’t I? And you did. So you get to win that dare.’
‘Big deal,’ said Alexander.
I thought hard. ‘OK. You get to dare me now.’
‘I don’t really want to, thank you.’
I couldn’t believe his attitude. Didn’t he realize the potential of my offer??? ‘Go
on
, Alexander,’ I said impatiently, standing over him.
Alexander wriggled backwards on his bony bottom. ‘I can’t make up any dares,’ he said meekly. ‘You make one up, Tracy.’
‘Don’t be so wet! Come on. Dare me to do something really really wicked.’
Alexander thought hard. Then I saw light in his pale blue eyes. ‘All right. I dare you to . . . I dare you to . . . stand on your head.’
He just didn’t
get
it! But I decided to show willing. I spat on my hands and sprang forward. ‘Easy-peasy,’ I said, upside down.
‘Gosh! You’re really good at it.’
‘Anyone can stand on their head.’
‘I can’t.’
I might have known. I tried hard to show him. He was useless. He just crumpled in a heap whenever he tried to kick his legs up.
‘Watch
me
!’ I said, doing headstands and handstands and then a cartwheel round the room.
‘I can see your knickers,’ said Alexander, giggling.
‘Well, don’t look,’ I said breathlessly.
‘I can’t help it,’ said Alexander. Then he started singing this weird song about leaping up and down and waving your knickers in the air.
‘You what?’ I said, right way up again.
‘It’s a song,’ said Alexander. ‘My dad sings it when he’s in a good mood. Which isn’t often when I’m around.’ He sang it again.
‘Is that another dare?’ I said.
Alexander giggled.
‘Right!’ I said, and I whipped my knickers off and leapt up and down, waving them like a flag.
‘Tracy! Um! You are
rude
!’ Alexander spluttered, nearly keeling over sideways he was laughing so much.
I leapt right round the cardboard television, waving away, and pranced past the window.
‘Tracy! Get away from the window! Someone will see,’ Alexander screeched.
‘I don’t care,’ I said, bouncing up and down as if the bare floorboards were a trampoline. ‘Look at me, everyone! Look at m-e-e-e!’
A football suddenly came flying through the window and bounced right across the floor. Alexander must have seen it coming but he didn’t duck in time. It caught him bang on the bonce.
‘Ouch! A football!’ he said, rubbing his head.
‘
My
football,’ I said, retrieving it triumphantly.
‘Who on earth threw it in here?’ said Alexander.
I didn’t need three guesses. Football himself came climbing through the window. It’s a harder window to negotiate than the one in the kitchen at the back. He jumped down, lost his balance, stumbled forward . . . and landed on Alexander.
Alexander lay quivering, hands over his head.
‘You clumsy great oaf!’ I said to Football. ‘Are you all right, Alexander?’
‘No,’ said Alexander, whimpering.
Football picked him up and brushed him down. ‘Yes you are,’ he said firmly.
‘Bully,’ I said, bouncing the ball one-handed. ‘First you beat me up. And I’m a girl and I’m younger than you. And then you pick on a total wimp like Alexander.’
I was
defending
Alexander but he crumpled again at
‘How did you get on at school?’ I asked.
He didn’t react, though his eyes flicked backwards and forwards as if the presenters were really doing something on the screen.
‘You know, with the big bully boys in the showers?’
Alexander sighed again and slumped even further into his shoulders. ‘The entire school calls me Gherkin now.’
I couldn’t help spluttering. Alexander looked at me as if I’d kicked him.
‘Sorry.
Sorry!
It just . . . sounded funny.’
‘Everyone thinks it’s very funny. Except me.’
‘Oh dear. Well. Never mind.’
‘I do mind. Dreadfully.’
‘Still.’ I struggled hard to say something optimistic. ‘At least you won the dare. I dared you to do it, didn’t I? And you did. So you get to win that dare.’
‘Big deal,’ said Alexander.
I thought hard. ‘OK. You get to dare me now.’
‘I don’t really want to, thank you.’
I couldn’t believe his attitude. Didn’t he realize the potential of my offer??? ‘Go
on
, Alexander,’ I said impatiently, standing over him.
Alexander wriggled backwards on his bony bottom. ‘I can’t make up any dares,’ he said meekly. ‘You make one up, Tracy.’
‘Don’t be so wet! Come on. Dare me to do something really really wicked.’
Alexander thought hard. Then I saw light in his pale blue eyes. ‘All right. I dare you to . . . I dare you to . . . stand on your head.’
He just didn’t
get
it! But I decided to show willing. I spat on my hands and sprang forward. ‘Easy-peasy,’ I said, upside down.
‘Gosh! You’re really good at it.’
‘Anyone can stand on their head.’
‘I can’t.’
I might have known. I tried hard to show him. He was useless. He just crumpled in a heap whenever he tried to kick his legs up.
‘Watch
me
!’ I said, doing headstands and handstands and then a cartwheel round the room.
‘I can see your knickers,’ said Alexander, giggling.
‘Well, don’t look,’ I said breathlessly.
‘I can’t help it,’ said Alexander. Then he started singing this weird song about leaping up and down and waving your knickers in the air.
‘You what?’ I said, right way up again.
‘It’s a song,’ said Alexander. ‘My dad sings it when he’s in a good mood. Which isn’t often when I’m around.’ He sang it again.
‘Is that another dare?’ I said.
Alexander giggled.
‘Right!’ I said, and I whipped my knickers off and leapt up and down, waving them like a flag.
‘Tracy! Um! You are
rude
!’ Alexander spluttered, nearly keeling over sideways he was laughing so much.
I leapt right round the cardboard television, waving away, and pranced past the window.
‘Tracy! Get away from the window! Someone will see,’ Alexander screeched.
‘I don’t care,’ I said, bouncing up and down as if the bare floorboards were a trampoline. ‘Look at me, everyone! Look at m-e-e-e!’
A football suddenly came flying through the window and bounced right across the floor. Alexander must have seen it coming but he didn’t duck in time. It caught him bang on the bonce.
‘Ouch! A football!’ he said, rubbing his head.
‘
My
football,’ I said, retrieving it triumphantly.
‘Who on earth threw it in here?’ said Alexander.
I didn’t need three guesses. Football himself came climbing through the window. It’s a harder window to negotiate than the one in the kitchen at the back. He jumped down, lost his balance, stumbled forward . . . and landed on Alexander.
Alexander lay quivering, hands over his head.
‘You clumsy great oaf!’ I said to Football. ‘Are you all right, Alexander?’
‘No,’ said Alexander, whimpering.
Football picked him up and brushed him down. ‘Yes you are,’ he said firmly.
‘Bully,’ I said, bouncing the ball one-handed. ‘First you beat me up. And I’m a girl and I’m younger than you. And then you pick on a total wimp like Alexander.’
I was
defending
Alexander but he crumpled again at
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