Betsey Biggalow Is Here! Read online

  Betsey looked at the super marble in Josh’s hands. It called out to her, teasing her.

  “Betsey . . .” whispered Mr Mighty Marble. “Betsey, look at me. Aren’t I just the most perfect, the most splendid marble in the world?” And what could Betsey reply but, “You are! You are!”

  Betsey dug her hand into her dress pocket and slowly took out Old Faithful. Old Faithful was a small marble, perfect and clear, with a single gold streak like a summer lightning flash caught in its middle. Betsey’s dad had given it to her.

  “You look after Old Faithful,” said Dad. “And Old Faithful will look after you.”

  It was Betsey’s special marble and all her friends admired it, but Betsey never played with it. Old Faithful was too small to play with.

  “Josh,” said Betsey. “Let’s have a contest, right now. Your Mr Mighty Marble against my best marble.”

  “Why should I?” Josh frowned.

  “Because if you win, I’ll give you every marble I’ve got,” said Betsey slowly. She held up her full bag of marbles. “You’ll get every single marble in here.”

  Josh’s eyes gleamed. “Including Old Faithful?”

  Betsey looked at the marble her dad had given her. Next to Mr Mighty Marble, Old Faithful looked dull and titchy-tiny and hardly worth bothering with at all.

  “Including Old Faithful,” Betsey agreed at last.

  “Betsey! You can’t do that,” said May. “Your dad gave you Old Faithful.”

  “May, don’t you worry,” said Betsey. “If I win, I’ll get Josh’s super marble.”

  “And what happens if you lose?” asked May, her hands on her hips.

  Betsey thought about it, long and hard. If she lost then Josh would end up with every single marble she had in the world – including Old Faithful. Dad had played marbles with Old Faithful when he was a boy and he’d given her Old Faithful as a present. How could she give away a present from her dad? She shouldn’t have told Josh she’d give him Old Faithful. What if she did lose and Dad found out?

  “Josh, I think . . .” Betsey began.

  “You’re not changing your mind, are you? You’re not turning chicken?” Josh called out. “Cluck! Clu-uu-ck! Chicken!”

  “No, I’m not. I’m ready when you are,” said Betsey. But as she spoke she was careful not to look at May. That didn’t mean that she couldn’t hear May tutting beside her, though.

  Josh walked to his starting position which was at the end of the path that led to the beach. Everyone followed him. May pulled Betsey back from the crowd.

  “Betsey, you’re making a big mistake.” May shook her head.

  “Botheration, May! You’re not my gran’ma. Don’t you try to boss my head,” said Betsey, annoyed.

  “Are you really going to let Josh take all your marbles?” asked May. “Even the one your dad gave you?”

  “I’m going to win Josh’s mighty marble,” Betsey said stubbornly. “So Josh won’t get any of my marbles. I won’t lose a single one of them.”

  “You’ve lost your marbles already if you think your itsy-bitsy bit of glass stands a chance against Josh’s mighty marble,” said May.

  Betsey began to feel bad. Worse than bad. Betsey began to feel terrible. She wished she’d never challenged Josh to this stupid contest.

  “Come on then, Betsey,” Josh called out. “I’m busting to win a whole bag of marbles.”

  Betsey and May walked over to join Josh and the others.

  “Josh, we can still have our contest but I don’t want to include Old Faithful in it. My dad gave me Old Faithful and . . .”

  But Josh didn’t let Betsey finish.

  “Cluck! Clu-uu-ck! Chicken!” Josh began to leap about and to peck and flap and strut, just like a chicken. “Cluck! Clu-uu-ck!” Soon everyone else was doing the same thing. “Clu-uu-ck!”

  “Botheration!” said Betsey. “Josh, you’re about to lose Mr Mighty Marble.”

  Betsey dug into her bag.

  “What are you doing?” Josh frowned.

  “Getting out a marble to play with,” answered Betsey.

  “You’ve got to use Old Faithful,” Josh said. “That was the deal.”

  “But that’s not fair. Your mighty marble is ginormous and Old Faithful is tiddly,” said Betsey.

  “Too bad. That’s the deal.” Josh smiled.

  What could Betsey do? The contest was all her idea so she couldn’t back out now. There was nothing left to do but to stay put and play. Betsey felt her eyes stinging but she forced herself not to cry. She was going to lose all her precious marbles. All the marbles it had taken her so long to collect. And worse still, she was going to lose Old Faithful.

  “Josh, you go first,” sniffed Betsey.

  And the contest began. Everyone gathered round to watch. Josh flicked Mr Mighty Marble first. Betsey flicked Old Faithful away from Mr Mighty Marble. Josh flicked his marble towards Betsey’s.

  “Ooooh!” A gasp came from everyone around. Josh had only just missed Betsey’s marble.

  This was it. If Betsey didn’t do something, Josh would hit her marble with his very next shot and then Betsey would lose every single marble she had in the world.

  “Bombsies!” Betsey said.

  Josh laughed. “Bombsies! With that little marble! You can’t win, Betsey, so give up now.”

  “I’ll show you,” Betsey said. She stood up, Old Faithful in her hand. She stood over Josh’s marble, carefully lining up Old Faithful over Mr Mighty Marble. If she missed, Josh would win for sure. No one spoke. The only sound came from the waves lapping on the white sand and the sound of birds singing from the trees.

  “Your hand can’t be lower than your waist,” Josh said.

  “I know.” Betsey didn’t look up. She carried on lining up her shot until Old Faithful was directly above Mr Mighty Marble.

  Then Betsey let go of her own marble. Old Faithful hit Mr Mighty Marble with a CRR-AAA-CK!

  Then a strange thing happened. Old Faithful bounced off Mr Mighty Marble.

  “Ooooh!” said everyone.

  Josh’s marble wasn’t well. It wasn’t well at all. Mr Mighty Marble, Mr Super Marble, Mr Bigger-than-anyone-else’s Marble had cracked into four pieces. Each piece lay on the path, glistening and glittering just as loudly as before.

  Betsey picked up Old Faithful and stared at it.

  “Wow, Betsey. That’s some marble,” everyone said.

  Josh carefully picked up the pieces that made up what used to be Mr Mighty Marble.

  “Look what you did.” Josh stared down at the pieces in his hand.

  “Mr Mighty Marble doesn’t look so mighty any more.” May laughed.

  “Sorry, Josh,” Betsey said. “You can have any five of my marbles if you want.” Betsey held out her bag of marbles.

  “Can I have Old Faithful?” Josh asked hopefully.

  “No chance!” said Betsey firmly. “Old Faithful may be small, but he’s a real super marble.”

  Josh looked down and kicked at the ground with the toe of his right shoe.

  “Come on, Josh.” Betsey smiled. “I’ll give you my second best marble instead.”

  “Oh, all right then,” Josh said at last. Betsey handed over her bag and let Josh pick out five marbles he wanted.

  Then Betsey, May and all their friends set off for home, telling tales of Old Faithful, the mightiest marble of them all.

  Betsey’s Bad Day!

  The moment Betsey opened her eyes, she was awake. She grinned and sat up. Saturday morning! And only one more week until Dad came home. And no school! And they were all going into town today. Today was going to be a good day!

  “Yippee! Saturday!” Betsey sprang out of bed.

  She put on her slippers and went to have her shower. When she’d finished, she went for her breakfast. Sherena and Desmond were already at the table. So was Gran’ma Liz.

  “Sit down, Betsey,” said Mum. “I’ll get your breakfast.” Betsey turned in her chair to look at Mum.

  “Wha
t’s for breakfast, Mum?” Betsey sniffed the air. “Ham?”

  “And scrambled eggs,” said Mum.

  “Scrumptious.” Betsey grinned. She turned around. There before her was a long, cool glass of orange juice.

  “Yumptious-scrumptious!” said Betsey. And she picked up the glass and started to drink. Ooh, it was cold! Ooh, it was refreshing! Ooh, it was delicious!

  “Betsey, you toad! That’s my orange juice,” said Desmond.

  “Then what’s it doing in front of my plate?” Betsey replied.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” said Desmond. “It’s still my orange juice.”

  “Desmond boy, don’t call your sister a toad,” said Gran’ma Liz. “If she’s a toad, then you must be one too because you’re her brother.” Desmond started to sulk.

  “Desmond, there’s plenty of orange juice for everyone, so behave,” said Mum. “And Betsey, if you want some orange juice, pour some for yourself. Don’t just help yourself to your brother’s.”

  “But . . . but . . .” Betsey protested. Botheration! The glass had been in front of her plate. Never mind, today was Saturday! Betsey handed over the now half empty glass to Desmond.

  “Huh!” said Desmond, still sulking. He put the glass to his lips and finished his orange juice with one gulp. Then he poured himself another one.

  “Pass the sugar, Betsey,” said Sherena, stirring her coffee.

  “Manners!” said Gran’ma Liz. “What do you say?”

  “Please,” said Sherena. “Please, please, please!”

  With a grin, Betsey handed over the sugar bowl. Sherena added a spoonful of sugar to her coffee, then another spoonful, then another, and another.

  “Sherena girl, by the time you’re sixteen, you’ll not have one tooth left in your head if you carry on like that,” said Gran’ma Liz.

  “I like it sweet, Gran’ma Liz.” Sherena smiled. “Besides, I want to put on weight. I’m as skinny as a needle – worse luck. Everyone says so.” Sherena lifted her coffee cup to her lips. She’d barely taken one sip when immediately she started to gag and cough. The cup fell from her hand. Both hands flew to her throat, as she coughed and spluttered and coughed some more, her eyes watering.

  “Sherena? Sherena, what’s the matter?” Mum ran over to her and so did Gran’ma Liz. Betsey sprang out of her chair. “Sherena, are you all right?”

  “Salt!” Sherena coughed. “There’s s-salt in that bowl, not s-sugar.”

  “Whose turn was it to fill the sugar bowl last night?” Mum frowned. All eyes turned slowly to Betsey. Betsey’s mouth dropped open.

  “I thought I put sugar in it – honest!” she said quickly. Mum took the sugar bag and the salt bag out of the cupboard.

  “Which bag did you use?” she asked.

  Betsey stared at the bags. One was white and red, the other was red all over. The first bag said SALT on it and the second bag said FINEST SUGAR.

  “Er . . . I . . . er . . .” began Betsey.

  “I’m waiting, Betsey.” Mum pursed her lips.

  “I used the white and red bag to fill the sugar bowl,” Betsey admitted, adding quickly, “But it wasn’t my fault. The salt bag was on the kitchen table and I thought it was the sugar bag and I was in a hurry because I was missing a film on the T.V. . . .”

  “More haste, less speed.” Gran’ma Liz wagged her finger.

  Mum frowned. “Betsey! What is the matter with you today? First you drink you brother’s orange juice, then you try to poison your sister.”

  “But it wasn’t purpose work,” said Betsey. “I didn’t do it deliberately. I only . . .”

  “Betsey, if you carry on like this, we’ll leave you with May’s parents and go to town without you,” said Mum. “If I take you into town, goodness only knows what havoc you’ll cause.”

  “I won’t cause any havoc, Mum. I promise,” Betsey said quickly. She didn’t want to miss the trip into town. No, she didn’t!

  “So you say,” said Mum. “But you’ve only been awake for five minutes and look what’s happened already.”

  Betsey couldn’t argue with that so she said nothing. She thought a lot though. And her thoughts started with “botheration” and ended with “botheration”!

  At least it’s Saturday – and only seven more days till Dad comes home, Betsey thought to herself. That thought cheered her up a little.

  After breakfast, they all had to hurry up and get ready in order to catch the bus into town. In her bedroom, Betsey kicked off her slippers and looked around for the pink and grey trainers her Mum had bought her. She found one by the bedroom door where she and Sherena always left their shoes, but could she find the other one? No, she couldn’t! Betsey searched high and low, under the bed and in the bottom of the wardrobe.

  “Betsey! Speed up!” Mum called out.

  “Coming, Mum,” Betsey called back. Betsey hunted to the left of the bedroom and to the right of the bedroom and she still couldn’t find her other trainer.

  “BETSEY!” Mum said. “What are you doing? We’re going to miss our bus.”

  “Mum, I can’t find one of my trainers,” Betsey yelled.

  “Then wear your sandals, but hurry up! That bus won’t wait for ever.”

  Betsey stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips. Botheration! Double botheration! Where was that other trainer?

  “Betsey!” Mum came into the room. “Come on.”

  “But Mum, I wanted to wear my trainers,” Betsey said.

  Mum looked around the room. She pointed under the chest of drawers. “Isn’t that your other shoe?”

  Betsey looked down. There, just sticking out from the bottom of the chest of drawers was the other trainer.

  “But Mum, I didn’t put my trainer there . . .” Betsey said, puzzled.

  “It didn’t crawl under there by itself, Betsey. What has got into you this morning?” Mum sighed. “Now, put on your trainer and let’s go.”

  At last they left the house. Desmond walked with Gran’ma Liz and Sherena walked with Mum. Betsey walked by herself behind everyone else. They were all talking and laughing. Everyone except Betsey.

  “I might as well call today My-Bad-Day instead of Saturday,” Betsey muttered to herself. “Seems like everything I touch is going wrong and nothing I do is going right.”

  Betsey sighed and sighed some more. Gran’ma Liz turned around.

  “Betsey, we’re off to town.” Gran’ma Liz smiled. “So put your face straight before the wind changes direction and your face is stuck with that gloomy look on it. We’ll get our shopping and when we’ve finished we can all go for an ice-cream.”

  Ice-cream! Scrumptious! Double Scrumptious! That was more like it!

  The bus came along and juddered to a halt just as they all reached the bus stop.

  “Jump up! Jump up!” laughed Gran’ma Liz. “We’re off to town!”

  And they all scrambled aboard. Soon they’d reached the market in town.

  The town was even busier and better than Betsey remembered. They didn’t come to town too often as there were plenty of small shops locally. But about once a month, they all climbed aboard a bus and went shopping for the things they couldn’t buy from the local shops. Betsey sniffed the air. She could smell plantain cooking and fried fish and all different kinds of fruit like freshly picked bananas and mangoes and paw-paws and coconuts. Yumptious-scrumptious!

  Betsey grinned. Saturday felt better already. Then Betsey saw something that made her eyes open wide as plates and made her mouth drop open and made her heart beat faster than fast. There, across the street. Dad!

  “Dad! DAD!” Betsey yelled out.

  Dad heard Betsey’s voice and turned. He grinned and waved and once the road was clear, ran across it. Dad! There followed such huggings and cuddlings.

  “I wasn’t expecting you for another week.” Mum smiled happily.

  “My last exam wasn’t meant to be until the end of next week but they brought it forward so I’ve finished all my exams n
ow.” Dad grinned. “I decided not to tell you all but to surprise you. My plane landed about an hour ago.”

  “Are you a doctor yet?” Betsey asked eagerly.

  “Not yet, Betsey.” Dad shook his head. “I’ve got one more year of studying to do first.”

  “So how long are you going to be home for?” asked Gran’ma Liz.

  “A few weeks.” Dad grinned. “The exams are over and I’m on holiday.”

  “Yippee!” Sherena and Desmond shouted.

  “I knew it.” Betsey smiled. “I knew today was going to be a good day!”

  And she was right.

  About the Author

  Malorie Blackman has written over sixty books and is acknowledged as one of today’s most imaginative and convincing writers for young readers. She has been awarded numerous prizes for her work, including the Red House Children’s Book Award and the Fantastic Fiction Award. Malorie has also been shortlisted for the Carnegie Medal. In 2005 she was honoured with the Eleanor Farjeon Award in recognition of her contribution to children’s books, and in 2008 she received an OBE for her services to children’s literature. She has been described by The Times as ‘a national treasure’. Malorie Blackman is the Children’s Laureate 2013–15.

  Also by Malorie Blackman

  The NOUGHTS & CROSSES sequence:

  NOUGHTS & CROSSES

  KNIFE EDGE

  CHECKMATE

  DOUBLE CROSS

  NOBLE CONFLICT

  BOYS DON’T CRY

  HEART BREAK GIRL

  THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES

  TRUST ME

  PIG-HEART BOY

  HACKER

  A.N.T.I.D.O.T.E.

  THIEF!

  DANGEROUS REALITY

  THE DEADLY DARE MYSTERIES

  DEAD GORGEOUS

  UNHEARD VOICES

  (A collection of short stories and poems, collected by Malorie Blackman)

  For younger readers:

  CLOUD BUSTING

  OPERATION GADGETMAN!