They’re fast. Lloyd has done one lap already. He’s going to pass me in a minute on his second round.
I wonder if you can take a shortcut in a race?
I wonder if anyone will believe that I went so lightning fast that they didn’t see me do the first lap and this is actually my second too.
Wow, if anyone would believe that I’d actually be neck and neck with Lloyd.
“You’re supposed to run, not walk, Chessie!” Lloyd yells as he zooms past me.
“I’m pacing myself,” I yell back. “Like The Tortoise and the Hare.”
But I don’t think he heard me, which is perhaps a good thing because I’m probably too old to be talking about ancient fables.
Can’t he see that I am running? I’m actually running pretty fast for me.
“Hey,” Laurie yells as she comes past on her second lap. “I think you should stick to javelin in future.”
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically.
At least I’m trying, right?
What does it matter if the others have already done two hundred out of the four hundred metres and I’m on approximately ten?
I am going as fast as I can. It’s not like I’m slacking off or anything.
In fact, I think that maybe I should suggest to Mr Hursh that the others have all been taking steroids or something, because it cannot be natural to run that fast.
It just can’t.
I hear Debs cheering for me, and as I look over to wave at her, something awful happens.
I trip.
I fall down.
Splat. Face first on the grass. I guess I should be glad that it wasn’t concrete or something.
God, this is embarrassing.
I try to get up, but this running lark has left me a bit out of breath, and I’m panting for air. I think the fall must have winded me.
Darren runs past me and scowls on his way. Obviously my flailing is taking up too much of the track.
I bet if that had been Lloyd passing he would have stopped to help me up.
Eventually I struggle to my feet, and as if this race could get any worse, my shirt is completely covered in grass stains. It’s now white and green with a definite hint of mud. How lovely.
“Clemenfield, move or leave!” Mr Hursh is shouting at me.
Well, I’m not giving up that easy. I’m not even halfway through one lap yet and the others are on their last.
I run again. I’m totally out of breath and my chest is feeling all tight. I uncap the water bottle I’ve been carrying with me, and take a huge gulp.
And then I choke.
Obviously drinking and running doesn’t mix.
I spit water everywhere, including down my shirt.
I can’t breathe.
I’m hacking and coughing and spluttering but I can’t breathe.
I think that mild asthma I was diagnosed with when I was a kid has just become severe asthma.
I’m trying to take huge gulps of air in an attempt to get some into lungs that feel too small for my body.
Stupid, unfit body.
Mr Hursh blows his whistle to signify the end of the race.
“Clemenfield, get off the track!” He yells angrily.
I oblige.
I collapse to the floor and start crawling over to the edge of the field where Debs has come to meet me.
Mr Hursh blows his whistle again and the winner of the race is announced.
It’s Lloyd.
Of course it is.
As if we ever thought it would be anyone different.
In fact, I’m beginning to think that all the things Lloyd said to us earlier were just a load of crap to get his ego stroked.
He was in the lead the whole way. Even Darren didn’t come close, but that might be because he was too busy glaring at me.
“Jeez, are you okay?” Debs asks worriedly as she helps me to my feet.
“Fine,” I pant. “Just let me sit down for about three years.”
I hobble along behind her and sit back down at our spot on the grassy bank.
“Remind me never to enter a race,” Ewan says. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I mutter, heat flaring in my face as I sip my water.
I’m still wheezing and coughing, and every deep breath I take is never deep enough.
“At least I won’t have to do long jump now.”
I look around for Lloyd and eventually catch sight of him walking in the direction of the gym with Darren, undoubtedly going to practise on the mock obstacle course that has been set up there so no one ruins the proper course until it’s time for the event.
He didn’t even come to see if I was okay.
It was his fault I entered the bloody run in the first place, and he didn’t even check to see if I was okay after I nearly died in the middle of the track.
Boys are so inconsiderate.
“Come on,” Debs says when she sees me watching him walk away. “It’s nearly lunchtime, I’ll get you an extra flapjack to make you feel better.”
“Thanks,” I say gratefully.
I feel quite sick from all the choking and not being able to breathe thing.
Debs goes ahead to get to the front of the queue and I walk down to the cafeteria with Ewan.
“You know, it was really brave of you to try that, Chess,” he says. “I could never do something like that, no matter how much I wanted to impress someone.”
“I wasn’t doing it to impress anyone,” I lie.
Ewan laughs. “Yeah. I’m sure you deciding to dice with death on a running track had absolutely nothing to do with a certain tall boy from 9C.”
“I…”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything to him. For the record, I really admire you. I wish I had the courage to make the girl I like realise I exist.”
“If we’re talking about the same girl, don’t worry, she knows you exist.”
“Knowing I exist and seeing me in that way are two different things.” He sighs. “Forget it, Chess. I’m happy just to be friends.”
“She likes you,” I say.
“As a friend, maybe. But I don’t want to ruin that by trying to be something more. I’m not good with girls, you know that. I’m not tall or hot or good at sports like Lloyd is. Debs deserves better.”
“That’s nonsense. Debs likes you as you are. You don’t have to try to impress her. I wish I could say the same about me and Lloyd.”
“Chess, you know Lloyd is my mate, right? And I still don’t know what you see in him. There are much nicer guys out there who would like you for who you are. I don’t see the point in trying to change yourself just to impress him.”
Perhaps because you’re more sensible than me, I think to myself.
CHAPTER 14
I have come to the conclusion that I should never try to impress Lloyd with sports. After the spectacle I made of myself on the running track this morning, you’d think I would give up.
But no. Not me.
After lunch, I ask Miss Raine to put me in the same group as Lloyd for javelin. I don’t actually ask her that. I already checked Lloyd is in the first group, and I asked her to put me in the first group so I don’t get psyched out watching how well the other groups throw. I don’t think she really understood me, but she agreed eventually, probably out of sympathy.
I do look like quite a pathetic sight. My once white shirt is now white, grass-stained, and muddy, with wet patches of sweat and where I dribbled water down it after the whole running mishap this morning.
I think that I do believe in karma, because after the race mess, during the javelin I get exactly what I wanted.
There are ten people in each group this time, and when we’re all lined up, Debs is on one side of me and guess who is on the other?
Lloyd Layton.
He cannot fail to notice how good I am at javelin.
I mean, I think I’m good at javelin. I’ve only done it the once. During games last week. And I did manage to throw mine farther than anyone els
e’s, but now I’m here and looking at all the boys lined up, I can’t help but panic that it might have been a fluke.
This is my one chance to impress Lloyd and make him forget that I’m unfit and can’t even make it a quarter of the way around a running track when he can make it four times and not even break a sweat.
At least you don’t have to run for javelin.
Miss Raine walks down our line and hands the javelins out. “Be careful with these, we don’t want any accidents.”
We all nod and try to look mature, even though I can see some of the boys are grinning widely and obviously dying to poke someone with it.
“I can’t believe how good you are at this,” Debs says loudly to me. “I could never throw it as far as you, Chessie.” She’s not exactly shouting, but it’s obvious what she’s doing.
Lloyd takes the bait.
“Are you really?” he asks me. “I suck at javelin. I couldn’t even get it twenty feet.”
Twenty feet?
Is he joking?
I’m not that bloody good.
“Um, sure. I love javelin.”
I’m not sure that it’s even possible to love any form of physical activity, but I get the feeling that this is what he wants to hear.
“Cool.” He smiles his winning smile at me. “May the best man win.”
Oh, I’m sure he will. Absolutely sure. He can throw the damn thing twenty feet?
“Good luck,” I say.
“You too.”
He’s talking to me. That’s twice today that Lloyd Layton has actually struck up a conversation with me. I believe this is progress.
But somehow I have to lob a javelin all the way across this field, and I know that I don’t stand a chance against Lloyd Layton. He’s much stronger than me. Obviously all the boys in my form who I beat the other day were weaklings.
Miss Raine blows her whistle. “Everybody line up, position your javelins, and be careful.”
The whistle blows again and this is the cue to throw.
I close my eyes, cross the fingers of my free hand, and fling.
It goes sailing through the air and lands perfectly, miles ahead of all the others.
I don’t believe it.
I did it.
“Wow. Good job,” Lloyd says.
“Thanks,” I say, surprised.
Surprised doesn’t even cover it. Mine actually went farther than everyone else’s. Including Lloyd’s.
“Good work, Chessie,” Miss Raine says. She hands me a marker to mark the position and we all run forward to get our javelins for the next throw.
As mine is further away than the rest, I’m the last one back in the line.
I’m so excited that I can’t contain myself.
I turn to Lloyd Layton eagerly. “Did you see that? I’ve never thrown it that far before.”
I can’t help jumping up and down a little bit, partly because I’m excited and partly because I want him to notice my boobs.
And then the worst thing that could ever possibly happen in my whole life happens.
My javelin slips.
Lloyd lets out a cry of pain.
I’ve stabbed him in the foot.
I’ve stabbed Lloyd Layton in the foot with my javelin.
Oh, shit.
“Oh my god. Miss Raine!” I yell.
“Are you okay?” I turn to Lloyd.
Why would I even ask him something like that? Of course he’s not okay. He has a javelin sticking out of his shoe.
“Fucking hell, Chessie,” he yells at me.
“Oh dear,” Miss Raine is saying. She’s beckoned another teacher over and yelled at him to go and find the nurse pronto.
“I’m so sorry. It just slipped.”
“Move back,” Miss Raine yells at the other pupils who have gathered around us.
Everyone makes the move to shuffle back but no one actually does. They just continue peering at Lloyd and mumbling amongst themselves.
What do they think this is, some kind of circus?
“Get back!” I yell, throwing my arms wide. “Give him some space.”
This time everyone moves a few paces back.
“Where does it hurt, Lloyd?” Miss Raine asks him.
“My toes,” he moans.
“Oh dear, oh dear.” The nurse totters across the field towards us, first aid kit in hand. She peers at Lloyd’s foot. “There doesn’t appear to be much blood. That’s a good sign.”
Oh God, there’s going to be blood?
Mr Hursh rushes across with a chair for Lloyd to sit down, because if he tried to sit on the grass, he’d poke his eye out.
Lloyd sinks down gratefully.
I think he’s about to pass out.
Oh God, what have I done?
Debs puts her arm around me comfortingly, but all I can think about is what I’ve done to Lloyd. He’ll probably have to have his foot amputated. He’ll never play sports again. He probably wanted to be a professional sportsman one day, but I’ve just destroyed all hopes of his career. He’ll probably have to become an accountant or something and sit in an office all day staring at a computer screen and he’ll probably look out of the window and see people playing football and hate me for the rest of his life. He’ll probably put a picture of me on the back of his door and throw darts at it. At the very least he’ll have to have his foot in plaster for months and I’ll have ruined his summer holidays and he won’t be able to do any sports for at least a year. And that’s just the best case scenario. I bet he was going away on holiday this summer and he’ll have to stay at home because he won’t be able to travel with only one leg.
“It seems like it’s just a flesh wound,” the nurse says.
It is?
Oh. That’s not quite so bad then.
I look down at Lloyd’s foot and realise that while I was busy panicking they’ve gotten the javelin out and the shoe off. The nurse has put a piece of gauze between Lloyd’s big toe and the one next to it.
“You were very lucky,” she’s saying to him. “A couple of millimetres either way and you would have had some serious damage.”
He doesn’t have any serious damage now then?
That’s good news.
I glance at his face and am glad to see that he looks a lot less pale now. He catches me looking and shoots me a death glare.
Well, it’s not like I expect him to forgive me.
I mean, I do, obviously. But not right now, not today.
Tomorrow, maybe.
The nurse takes the gauze away from his toes and I see there is a bit of a cut there, but it’s not too bad.
“I’ll disinfect this and put a plaster on it. It’ll be better in a couple of days,” the nurse tells him.
“Thanks,” Lloyd mutters.
“I’ll find you a spare pair of trainers to wear home,” Mr Hursh says.
Oh dear. I forgot about the trainers. They’re really good ones, like a few hundred quid job, and now, well, one of them has a giant hole in the top where the javelin went in.
Oops.
“I’ll pay for your shoes,” I say, wondering where the hell I intend to get that kind of money. My mother will kill me. I can kiss goodbye to the next six weeks right now.
“No,” Lloyd grates out. “They were old ones anyway. I needed a new pair.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say as the nurse puts a plaster on his foot.
Lloyd ignores me.
I guess I can’t really blame him. I did stab him in the foot with a javelin.
“Okay, you’re good to go,” the nurse says to Lloyd. “But I don’t think you should do anymore events today.”
He nods solemnly, and then gets up and limps away with Darren.
He doesn’t even look at me.
“Miss Clemenfield,” Miss Raine says, rounding in on me.
“It was an accident,” I point out.
“I know,” she says. “But even so, perhaps it would be better for you to stay away from these events for the rest of th
e day.”
I nod.
“Just stay on the sidelines and sit this one out, okay?”
I nod again, trying to look sad. Like that is punishment.
Okay, so I’ve already done my two events for the day, but at least I won’t even have to think about doing any more.
“You’re so lucky,” Debs says as we walk back to our spot on the grass. “I still have to do discus.”
“Just whack someone around the head with the disc,” I joke. “That’ll get you out of it.”
Of course, there is one little problem to come out of this whole day. Lloyd Layton is never going to like me now I’ve nearly taken his foot off with a javelin.
CHAPTER 15
I have to do something to prove to him that I am truly sorry. I only have two days before the summer holidays to do so. I can’t let him leave for six weeks hating me. Okay, maybe hating is a bit strong. I don’t think he hates me. I think he is completely indifferent to me. I don’t think he could care less about me. I’m not sure which of the two is better.
So I’m going to bake him some cakes.
I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not, but it’s making a gesture, and that’s the important part.
Now, I’m no master baker. In fact, I’m not much of a baker at all. But baking cakes can’t be that hard, can it? Debs found a recipe for me. You just throw all the ingredients into a bowl, mix it, put it in cake cases and shove it in the oven.
Just because I don’t do well in cookery class at school doesn’t mean I can’t do it at home. Personally I think it’s all the pressure the teachers put us under. They make me nervous. It’s probably their fault for every kid who gets bad marks.
I’m going to bake cakes, ice them like those proper cupcakes you get in America, put them in a pretty little Red Riding Hood style basket, go to school and give them to Lloyd as an apologetic gesture.
Sorry I stabbed you in the foot. Here are some cupcakes. They’re probably not that burnt. Please fall in love with me.
Unbelievably something I do actually goes right. I can bake cakes.
Although it’s a good thing I had plenty of extra ingredients because the first batch came out looking like lumps of charcoal, but the second batch were fine. Good, even. Obviously I had to eat three to test them out.
The icing comes out good too. It’s white, but I didn’t have any food colouring. I’ve had more than enough experience with food colouring to last a lifetime. I just hope Lloyd doesn’t think white cupcakes are too girly.
Not Pretty Enough Page 7