The Dare Game

by Jacqueline Wilson

  187

  I ended up back in the mohair sweater and the leather skirt and Mum's suede high heels, and she made me up like a real grown-up lady and did my hair too. I strutted about like a fashion model and Mum joined in too, showing me how to do the walk properly, and I did my best to copy her. Then we played being rock stars and Mum was incredible –

  she could do all the

  bouncy bits and the

  little dances and every-

  thing, and she could

  really sing too. She has this

  amazing voice. She said she

  was queen of the karaoke

  night down the pub and everyone always begged her to sing.

  'It's karaoke night tonight, actually,' she said.

  'Oh great! Can we go? I'd love to see you being the star singer.'

  'You can't go to the pub, Tracy, you're just a little kid.'

  'I went with Cam and Jane and Liz once. We sat in the garden and I had a cocktail called a St Clement's and three packets of salt and vinegar crisps.'

  188

  'Yes, well, my pub hasn't got a garden and you can't sit out in the evening anyway. No, I was wondering about me going.'

  ' B u t . . . what about me?'

  'Well, you can go to bed. I'll make you up a bed on the sofa and then you can watch telly for a bit as a treat.'

  'You're going to leave me on my own?' I said, my heart thumping.

  'Oh come on, Tracy, you're not a baby,' said Mum.

  'I don't really like being left on my own,' I said. 'Mum, can't you stay and play with me?'

  'For goodness' sake, Tracy. I've been playing daft games with you for hours! You can't begrudge me an hour or two with my friends down the pub. A couple of drinks, that's all. I'll be home long before closing time, I swear.

  Anyway, you'll be asleep by then.'

  'What if I can't get to sleep?'

  'Then watch the telly, like I said.'

  'I don't think there's anything good on tonight.'

  'Well, watch a video! Honestly – kids! You can tell you've been spoilt. You're going to have to learn to do as you're told if we're going to get along.'

  189

  'You're not supposed to leave me.'

  ' I ' l l do what I like, young lady. Don't take that tone with me! Do you want me to send you back to the Children's Home?'

  I shook my head. I couldn't speak.

  'Well then. Don't you get stroppy with me.

  Out of my clothes and into your jim-jams, right?'

  She started treating me like I was a sulky little toddler. She even washed all the make-up off my face herself and then she played silly games with the flannel, pretending it was a bird pecking off my nose. I laughed a lot and went along with the whole charade because I hoped if I was really really good and sweet and cute she'd change her mind and stay home.

  But she didn't.

  She left me.

  She gave me a kiss and tucked me up on the sofa and waved her

  fingers at me and then

  she put on her coat

  and walked off in her

  black suede high

  heels.

  I called after her. I said she didn't have to play with me, I'd lie watching telly as quiet as 190

  a mouse, I'd do anything she wanted, just so long as she stayed with me.

  I don't know whether she heard or not. She still went anyway. So I was left. All on my own.

  I got angry at first. She wasn't supposed to leave me. If I phoned Elaine and told tales Mum would be in serious trouble. But I didn't want to phone Elaine. I knew who I wanted to phone

  – but I couldn't. I couldn't let on to Cam that it had all gone wrong so quickly.

  Then I got angry with myself. Had it really gone wrong? I didn't know why I was getting in such a state. So what if my mum had slipped out for a drink or two? Lots and lots and lots of mums went down the pub, for goodness' sake.

  And my mum had been wonderful to me. She'd bought me fantastic new trousers and she'd played games with me for ages. She was the best mum in the world and so why couldn't I just lie back on her lovely comfy sofa and watch telly and have a good time till she came back?

  I knew why. I was scared. It reminded me of all those other times when I was little and she left me then. I couldn't remember them properly. I just remembered crying in the dark and no-one coming. The dark seemed to stretch out for ever into space and I was all by myself 191

  and Mum was never ever coming back for me.

  I felt that way now, even though I knew it was stupid. I scrunched up in a tiny ball on the sofa and I thought about Cam and I wanted her so badly. No, I wanted my mum so badly. I was all muddled. I just felt so lonely, and after a long while I slept but when I woke up Mum still wasn't back even though the pubs had been shut for ages. I switched on the telly but it jabbered away too loudly in the silent flat so I shut it off quick and lay on the sofa, listening and listening, wondering what I would do if Mum never came back. And then when I'd very nearly given up altogether I heard footsteps and giggling and the key turning in the front door.

  The light went on in the living room. I kept hunched down, my eyes squeezed shut.

  'Whoops! I'd forgotten I'd tucked her up on the sofa!' Mum hissed. 'Funny little thing.

  Doesn't look a bit like me, does she? Oh dear.

  Come on, out we go. You'd better go home, sweetie. Yes, I know, but it can't be helped.'

  There was a horrible male mumbling, a slurping sound, and more giggles from Mum.

  'You naughty thing! No! Shh now, we'll wake the kid.'

  192

  I breathed as slowly and evenly as I could.

  The man was mumbling again.

  'Oooh!' said Mum. 'Yes, I'd love to go to the races on Saturday. Great idea! Though . . . well, my little Tracy will still be here. She can come too, can't she? She won't be any trouble, I swear.'

  Mumble mumble, fumble fumble.

  'I know it wouldn't be so much fun. What? I see. So we'd be staying the whole weekend?

  It does sound tempting. Go on, then, you've twisted my arm. I'll fix it.'

  My eyes were still tight shut but I couldn't stop them leaking. It was OK. They didn't see.

  They weren't looking at me.

  I was awake long before Mum in the morning.

  I had my bag all packed, ready. I wondered how she was going to break it to me, whether she'd tell me it straight or spin me some story.

  It was the story. With a lot of spin on it. She came out with it at breakfast. I was amazed.

  It was the sort of stuff I made up when I was about six, the most pathetic never-ever tale about bumping into a film producer down the pub and how he was bowled over by her and he was giving her this big acting chance and he 193

  needed her to meet up with all his big-film-guy cronies at the weekend, this weekend, and she knew this weekend was the most special ever because we were supposed to be together but on the other hand we could spend every other weekend of our lives together but this weekend was her one chance of finding fame and fortune and I did understand, didn't I, sweetie?

  I understood. I looked at my mum – really really looked at her – and I understood everything. I didn't have it out with her. I just made my lips turn up and said that of course I understood and I wished her luck. She went a bit watery-eyed then, so that her

  last-night's mascara smudged,

  and she reached across the

  table so that her black nylon

  nightie dripped in my corn-

  flakes and she gave me a big

  hug. I breathed in her warm powdery smell one last time. Then she gave me a little pat, ran her fingers through her rumpled hair, plucked at her soggy nightie, and said she'd better go and have a bath and get herself all prettied up and what did I want to do today, darling?

  I knew what I was going to do. As soon as Mum was in the bath I went to her handbag, 194

  nicked some money, picked up my bag and scarpered.r />
  I left her a note.

  The note got a bit smeared

  and blotchy but there wasn't

  time to write it out again. I

  needed to leave her a message

  so she'd know I wasn't a thief.

  Then I walked out, closing

  her front door ever so slowly

  so she wouldn't hear. Then

  I ran. And ran and ran and ran.

  I didn't know where I was going.

  I didn't really have any place to go.

  I could go back to Cam but she

  probably wouldn't want me back

  now. Not after all the things I said.

  I came out with all sorts of stuff. Things that I didn't want to write in this book. Things to hurt her. It was so hard choosing between Cam and my mum so I made it easy by doing such dreadful things to Cam that she'd never ever want me back.

  Only I made the wrong choice. Now I haven't got anywhere to go.

  Yes I have.

  I know where I'm going.

  195

  I found my way, easy-peasy. I got a train and then a bus and I had

  lunch in McDonald's. It was great.

  I don't need ANYONE to look

  after me. I don't need my mum.

  I don't need Cam. I can look

  after myself, no bother at all. And it isn't as if I haven't got a roof over my head.

  I've got a whole house. All to myself.

  Well. Sometimes I share it. Someone had been doing some serious housekeeping. There were cans of Coke and Kit-kats in the 'fridge'

  in the kitchen, and a cardboard dustpan and brush that really worked – sort of. But the living room was the real picture. A brand new television, with a video recorder too. A table with a permanent embroidered tablecloth and place settings. Three chairs, all different sizes, like the Three Bears story – a big one for 197

  Football, a medium size for me and the littlest for Alexander. Alexander himself, sitting on a special rug, was making yet more Ideal Home delights.

  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 198

  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 199

  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.

  200

  '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.'

  201

  'That's a double negative. If you don't need no-one it means you need someone, 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 202

  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.'

  203

  '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 204

  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 your-

  self!' 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.