Mum snorted.
Dad snorted too.
‘Kelly!’ said Mum. ‘I am not forty-plus.’
‘Oh well, never mind,’ said Kelly. ‘You’ve a good chance of winning it then, haven’t you? Come on, we must get a move on or we’ll miss Dean’s race.’
So we got a move on.
You simply can’t argue with Kelly. She’s like a steamroller.
‘I shall go in for the sack race,’ Biscuits muttered. ‘And I shall try hard to barge into Kelly. And I shall knock her over. And jump on her. Hard.’
But I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. Biscuits was twice Kelly’s fighting weight but he knew he’d never get the better of her.
He cheered up a little watching Dean’s race. He had got quite matey with him during their boat-building session. Dean wasn’t the oldest and he wasn’t the biggest under-five by any means but it was obvious he was taking the race very seriously. Most of the kids were fidgetting or talking or whimpering or waving at their mums as they lined up at the starting post on the grass. One or two were facing the wrong way. They had to be turned round quickly or they might have gone hurtling towards the cliff edge and hurled themselves over the top like lemmings. But Dean was clearly concentrating, his teeth gritted, his fists clenched. When someone shouted ‘One two three – go!’ Dean was off like a shot, charging along, his elbows flapping like little wings. One big kid tripped over just in front of him. Dean ran straight over him, never pausing.
‘That’s it, our Dean!’ Kelly yelled.
‘Go for it, Dean!’ Biscuits yelled.
‘Come on, Dean!’ Kelly’s mum yelled, standing just beyond the finishing post, holding out her arms to him.
Dean won.
Kelly and Kelly’s mum and Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave and my mum and my dad and Biscuits and me all cheered. Baby Keanu, perched up on Dave’s shoulders, gave a cheery sort of chirp.
Dean was given a winner’s badge and a little bar of chocolate.
‘Wow!’ said Biscuits. ‘I didn’t know they gave you chocolate. Hey Dean, are you going in for the three-legged race? How’s about you teaming up with me, eh?’
Dean was pleased to be partners with his new pal Biscuits but their pairing wasn’t very successful. Dean was little but ran very fast. Biscuits was big but ran very slowly. They fell over. They fell over again. And again. And then Biscuits tried picking Dean up and carrying him, still with their legs tied together. And then they fell over again because they were laughing so much. Luckily Biscuits was so well padded he didn’t hurt himself at all and Dean always managed to land on top of Biscuits so it was just like bouncing on a huge well-stuffed sofa.
Kelly and I didn’t do much better.
My heart sank as she tied our legs together with her mum’s scarf. She did it so tightly she cut off all the blood supply to my foot. She looked very determined. Kelly liked to win.
I would have liked to win too. But I knew we didn’t have a chance.
I tried hard to get ready, get steady and go.
‘Run!’ Kelly commanded.
I ran. She ran. But not together.
We tripped over. It hurt rather a lot. I wondered if I ought to stay lying there on the grass.
‘Get up!’ Kelly squealed.
I decided to get up. I was barely on my feet before Kelly tore off again. I staggered along beside her for three or four paces, and then tripped again.
‘Oh Tim, you’re so useless!’ Kelly yelled.
I agreed with her meekly.
‘Look, shut up and get up,’ Kelly said sharply.
I tried to do as I was told.
It didn’t work.
We were last in the three-legged race. We didn’t actually finish. Kelly tore the scarf off our legs and stormed off. I was left to limp the rest of the way to the finishing post by myself with everyone laughing at me. I saw Kelly’s mum and Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave pretending not to have noticed. I saw Mum’s face. I saw Dad. I felt so awful. Then I heard another loud braying laugh and a cry of, ‘Mummy’s boy!’
Prickle-Head.
I felt even worse.
But Dad looked up. He’d heard the laugh too. Prickle-Head didn’t have his dad with him this time, only Pinch-Face. Pinch-Face saw my dad looking suddenly fierce. He said something to Prickle-Head. They both scooted off sharpish.
I felt a fraction better. But only a fraction.
‘Cheer up, Tim,’ Biscuits said. ‘Dean and me were hopeless too. They laughed at us and all.’
But Biscuits had learned the knack of making people laugh with him. They laughed at me.
‘I’m ever so sorry, Kelly,’ I said humbly.
Kelly raised her eyebrows and sighed.
‘So I should think!’
‘You be quiet, our Kelly. Tim did his best,’ said Kelly’s mum. ‘You were the mean one, rushing off like that and leaving him on his own. Anyway, it’s only a bit of fun, kids.’
‘That’s right,’ my mum said gratefully.
Dad didn’t say anything.
I knew he thought I was useless too.
I tried hard not to mind too much as the races went on and on. Nobody made me go in for anything else. But it didn’t matter. I cheered Kelly and Dean in all their running races. They won. I cheered Biscuits in his sack race. He didn’t win but he bounced along grinning all over his face so that everyone clapped nevertheless. I was pleased for him. But I still minded and minded about me inside.
Then the dads had a race. My dad ran like crazy and went purple in the face. Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave ran like he was hardly bothering. And won.
My dad congratulated him but I could see he minded a lot.
Then it was the mums’ race.
‘I’m not going in for it,’ said my mum.
‘Go on, it’ll be a laugh,’ said Kelly’s mum.
There was nothing going to stop her going in for it, even though she didn’t have the right sort of shoes to run in, just backless sandals with heels. She gave them to Kelly to hold and went to the starting post, practically dragging my mum with her.
I saw my mum’s face.
I realized she hated sports just the way I did. She especially hated the idea of running in front of everyone and looking stupid. I felt a horrid new squeezing in my tummy. My mum was plumper than the other mums. And I’d seen her running for a bus. Her legs kicked out at the sides and her bottom waggled. I didn’t want to see everyone laughing at Mum.
‘This is going to be a laugh,’ said Biscuits.
Then he saw my face.
‘Hey, your dad gave you some pocket money, didn’t he? Let’s go and get an ice-cream from the van over there,’ Biscuits suggested.
‘OK.’ I looked over at Kelly who was prancing around in her mum’s high heels.
‘Not her,’ Biscuits said quickly. ‘Just you and me.’
So we sloped off together while everyone else was waiting for the start of the mums’ race. We bought an ice-cream each and stood licking them at the edge of the cliff.
We heard great shrieks and roars and laughing behind us.
I winced.
‘Hey, let’s have our own private Super-Tim and Biscuits-Boy race,’ said Biscuits, swallowing the rest of his ice-cream whole. ‘We’ll have a roly-poly-down-the-sand-to-the-beach race, right?’
‘Right!’ I said, and then I stepped over the edge and started rolling right away.
‘Hey! Cheat! I didn’t say go!’ said Biscuits behind me, as he hurled himself over the edge of the beach too.
I went roly-poly roly-poly roly-poly over and over and over, my eyes squeezed shut to stop any more sand getting in them. I bumped a few bits and went very wobbly but it was still fun, if scary. And I landed on the beach first.
‘I won!’ I said as I landed bump on my bottom on the beach.
‘Look who it isn’t! Old Mummy’s boy!’ came a dreadfully familiar voice.
But it sounded odd. Hollow. Sort of echoey and far away.
I bli
nked. I couldn’t see Prickle-Head anywhere. Then I realized. He was in one of the sandy caves, burrowing away. I saw his great big boots and Pinch-Face’s trainers sticking out.
I decided it would be wise to hasten back up the cliff sharpish.
‘I’m second!’ Biscuits shouted above me, hurtling down in a great flurry of sand.
He was sliding down with great thumps and bumps. And suddenly the sand all around him started shaking.
I stared. And then I shouted, ‘Get out the cave quick! The cliff is giving way! The sand’s all sliding!
Pinch-Face backed out so quickly that Biscuits couldn’t steer past him and landed bang on top of him. They sprawled in a heap, Pinch-Face groaning, Biscuits giggling.
‘Where’s Prickle-Head?’ I said. ‘Did he get out too?’
‘Must have done,’ said Pinch-Face, picking himself up.
There was a huge mound of new sand down on the beach.
‘Wow! I caused a landslide,’ said Biscuits, looking at the sifted sand. ‘No, a sand slide!’
I stared. Something glittered in the sand. A stud. Several studs. Prickle-Head’s boots! He was buried in the sand!
‘Quick!’ I said. ‘We’ve got to get him out. Dig, you two. Come on. He’s buried alive under all that sand. He’ll die if we don’t dig him free.
I hated Prickle-Head but I didn’t want him to die. We scraped and scrabbled at the sand covering him.
‘Do his head end so he can breathe,’ I said, but when we tugged his top half free his head lolled. His eyes were shut. I bent my own head nearer. He wasn’t breathing.
‘He’s dead!’ said Pinch-Face.
‘I’ve murdered him with my landslide!’ said Biscuits. ‘Oh help, oh help, oh help, oh help.’
‘Run and get help, what’syourname, Rick, quick!’ I yelled. ‘Biscuits, stop it! Keep getting the sand off him. Maybe that’s stopping his breathing. It’s crushing his chest.’
‘He’s dead already, I just know he is!’ Biscuits gasped, clasping Prickle-Head’s horribly lolling head.
It suddenly reminded me of floppy old Dog Hog and the game we’d played in the car together on the way to Llanpistyll.
‘Artificial respiration!’ I said. ‘Quick, Biscuits, do it!’
‘I don’t know how!’
‘You did it with Dog Hog and Walter Bear.’
‘I was just messing about. Oh Tim. He is dead.’
‘Then I’ll have a go at this kiss of life thing,’ I said, as Biscuits scraped more sand off Prickle-Head.
I tilted his head back further so I could get at his mouth properly.
‘Breathe into it then!’ said Biscuits.
‘No, wait,’ I said, seeing all the sand around Prickle-Head’s mouth. I shoved it open with my fingers and scooped lots of spitty sand out.
‘Is he breathing now?’ said Biscuits.
‘Not yet.’
I stared at Prickle-Head’s face, wondering how to do it. I need the mouth to stay open – and my breath to get down inside him. I pinched his nose to stop the air getting out, took a deep breath, and then breathed quickly into Prickle-Head’s mouth. Then I took another breath and did it again. And again. And again.
Biscuits kept scrabbling all the while, clearing the sand.
I breathed and breathed and breathed.
‘It’s not working,’ Biscuits wept.
I went on breathing into Prickle-Head.
I breathed again and again and again.
Prickle-Head suddenly coughed.
I shot up from him. Prickle-Head turned his head sideways.
‘He’s being sick. Yuck!’ said Biscuits.
‘He’s alive!’ I said.
‘Oh Tim! He is alive. I’m not a murderer after all. And you’re a hero!’ said Biscuits.
And then lots of people came running down the zig-zag path and more sand started sliding, so Biscuits and I dragged Prickle-Head completely free. We were surrounded by people and there was noise and pushing and questions – and then suddenly someone came charging through everyone, running even faster than Kelly. It was my mum!
She picked me right up and hugged me hard.
‘Oh Tim! I thought it was you who’d been buried! Oh thank God you’re safe. And Biscuits is too?’
‘Mum! Put me down! People are looking.’
‘I’m fine. And I do hope Prickle-Head is. Tim saved him. He gave him the kiss of life. He was wonderful!’ said Biscuits. ‘He’s a hero!’
‘Tim! Wow! You saved his life? What did you do that for? I thought you didn’t like him!’ said Kelly barging through everyone. ‘Still, you are a hero. My boyfriend Tim’s a hero.’
‘Oh son! Did you really give him the kiss of life?’ said Dad, giving me a hug too. ‘How did you know what to do?’
‘I just sort of sussed it out. I didn’t do much. I’m not really a hero,’ I said, trying to wriggle free of Mum and Dad, scared everyone would start laughing again.
But no-one was laughing now. Prickle-Head was carried up the cliff to be taken to hospital. He seemed reasonably OK now, though he had sick all down his front.
‘That Tim rescued you. He gave you the kiss of life,’ said Pinch-Face.
‘No wonder I was sick!’ Prickle-Head gasped.
He wasn’t at all grateful! But I didn’t care. Everyone kept saying I was a hero. And back at the carnival they gave me a special cup. It was supposed to be for the child that won the most races.
‘But you must have it instead, Tim!’
‘I’m ever so glad you’re my boyfriend, Tim,’ said Kelly.
‘You’re a real Super-Tim,’ said Biscuits.
I don’t know about that. I’m not quite Super-Tim standard.
But I’m Tim – and I feel Super!
About the Author
Jacqueline Wilson is an extremely well-known and hugely popular author who served as Children’s Laureate from 2005-7. She has been awarded a number of prestigious awards, including the British Children’s Book of the Year and the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award (for The Illustrated Mum), the Smarties Prize and the Children’s Book Award (for Double Act, for which she was also highly commended for the Carnegie Medal). In 2002 Jacqueline was given an OBE for services to literacy in schools and in 2008 she was appointed a Dame. She has sold over thirty-five million books and was the author most borrowed from British libraries in the last decade.
Also by Jacqueline Wilson
Published in Corgi Pups, for beginner readers:
THE DINOSAUR’S PACKED LUNCH
THE MONSTER STORY-TELLER
Published in Young Corgi, for newly confident readers:
LIZZIE ZIPMOUTH
SLEEPOVERS
Available from Doubleday/Corgi Yearling Books:
BAD GIRLS
THE BED & BREAKFAST STAR
BEST FRIENDS
BURIED ALIVE!
CANDYFLOSS
THE CAT MUMMY
CLEAN BREAK
CLIFFHANGER
THE DARE GAME
THE DIAMOND GIRLS
DOUBLE ACT (PLAY EDITION)
GLUBBSLYME
THE ILLUSTRATED MUM
JACKY DAYDREAM
THE LOTTIE PROJECT
MIDNIGHT
THE MUM-MINDER
MY SISTER JODIE
SECRETS
STARRING TRACY BEAKER
THE STORY OF TRACY BEAKER
THE SUITCASE KID
VICKY ANGEL
THE WORRY WEBSITE
Available from Doubleday/Corgi Books, for older readers:
DUSTBIN BABY
GIRLS IN LOVE
GIRLS UNDER PRESSURE
GIRLS OUT LATE
GIRLS IN TEARS
KISS
LOLA ROSE
LOVE LESSONS
Join the official Jacqueline Wilson fan club at
www.jacquelinewilson.co.uk
BURIED ALIVE!
AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 407 04624 2
Published in Great B
ritain by RHCP Digital,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Publishers UK
A Random House Group Company
This ebook edition published 2012
Copyright © Jacqueline Wilson, 1998
Illustrations copyright © Nick Sarratt and Sue Heap, 1998
First Published in Great Britain
Yearling 9780440868569 2009
The right of Jacqueline Wilson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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