The Story of Tracy Beaker

by Jacqueline Wilson

  “Yeah, that's the right approach.”

  “Oh, come off it, Tracy. None of you are at all sweet. You're all gutsy and feisty and spirited. I want to write what you're really like, but it won't be the sort of thing the editor wants.”

  “And it won't be the sort of thing I want either. You've got to make me sound sweet, Cam! No one will want me otherwise. I've gone past my sell-by date already. It gets hopeless when you get older than five or six. You've stopped being a cute little toddler and started to be difficult. And I'm not pretty either, so people won't take one look at my photo and start cooing. And then it's not like I'm up for adoption, so people can't ever make me their little girl, not properly.”

  “You're not up for adoption because you've still got your mom?”

  “Exactly. And like I said, she'll be coming for me soon, but meanwhile I'd like to live in a proper homey home instead of this old dump. Otherwise I'll get institutionalized.”

  Cam's eyebrows went up.

  “I know what it means and all. I've heard Elaine and some of the other social workers going on about it. It's when you get so used to living in an institution like this that you never learn how to live in a proper home. And when you get to be eighteen you can't cope and you don't know how to do your own shopping or cooking or anything. Although I can't see me ever having that problem. I bet I could cope right this minute living on my own. They'd just have to hand me the money and I'd whiz off down the shops and have a whale of a time.”

  “I bet you would,” said Cam.

  Then Maxy started scratching at my door and whining and complaining. I told him to go away, because Cam and I were In Conference, but he didn't take any notice.

  “Ms. Lawson, it's not fair, them big girls won't let me have a turn on the tape, I want a turn, you tell them to let me have a turn, they're playing they're pop stars, and I want a turn.”

  Cam smiled and sighed, looking at her watch.

  “I'd better go back downstairs. I've got to be going in a minute anyway.”

  “Oh, that's not fair! Aren't you staying? You can have lunch with us, Jenny won't mind, and it's hamburgers on Saturday.”

  “No, I'm meeting someone for lunch in town.”

  “Oh. Where are you going, then?”

  “Well, we'll probably have a drink and then we'll have a salad or something. My friend worries about her figure.”

  “Who wants boring old salad? If I was having lunch out I'd go to McDonald's. I'd have a Big Mac and french fries and a strawberry milk shake. See, I'm not the slightest bit institutionalized, am I?”

  “You've been to McDonald's, then?”

  “Oh, lots of times,” I said. And then I paused. “Well, not actually inside. I was fostered with this boring family, Julie and Ted, and I nagged them to take me, but they said it was junk food. And I said all their boring brown beans and soggy veggie stews were the real junk because they looked like someone had already eaten them and upchucked them and— well, anyway, they never took me.”

  “No wonder,” said Cam, grinning.

  “I am allowed to go out to lunch from here, you know.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. Any day. And tell you what, I really will work on that article for you. I could work on it this week and show you what I've done. And we could discuss it. Over lunch. At McDonald's. Hint, hint, hint.”

  Cam smacked the side of her head as if a great thought has just occurred to her.

  “Hey, Tracy! Would you like to come out with me to McDonald's next week?”

  “Yes, please!” I paused. “Really? You're not kidding?”

  “Really. Next Saturday. I'll come and pick you up about twelve, okay?”

  “I'll be waiting.”

  And I will. I'd better send her a letter too, just in case she forgets. I know she said twelve o'clock. And she's not exactly the most punctual of people.

  She might not get here till ten past. Even twenty or half past. So why am I sitting here staring out the window when we've only just had breakfast?

  I hate waiting. It really gets on my nerves. I can't concentrate on anything. Not even my writing. And I haven't done any writing in this book all week because I've been so busy with my article for Cam. I've got it all finished now and even if I do say so myself I've done a really great job. She can just hand it to her editor and no one will be any the wiser. I should really get the whole fee for it myself. But I'm very generous. I'll share fifty-fifty with Cam, because she's my friend.

  Old Pete's my friend too. We've been bumping into each other in the middle of the night this week, on a sheet sortie. Mostly we just whispered a little, but last night I found him all huddled up and soggy because he'd had a nightmare about his granny. Strangely enough, I'd had a nightmare about my mom and it had brought on a bad attack of my hay fever. Normally I like to keep to myself at such moments since some stupid ignorant twits think my red eyes and runny nose are because I've been crying. And I never ever cry, no matter what.

  But I knew Peter wouldn't tease me so I huddled down beside him for a bit and when I felt him shivering I put my arm around him and told him he was quite possibly my best friend ever.

  He's just come up to me now and asked if I want to play paper games. Yeah, it might pass the time.

  Oh, charming! Peter and I had just got started and I was about to win the first game when Elaine the Pain comes buzzing in. She's here dumping off some boring new kid and now she wants to have a little chat with Peter.

  “Well, tough, Elaine, because I'm having a little chat with Peter right now,” I said.

  “Now now, Tracy,” said Elaine.

  “Yes, now,” I said.

  Elaine bared her teeth at me. That smile means she'd really like to give me a smack in the head but she's going to make allowances for me.

  “I expect you're feeling a bit het up this morning, Tracy, because of this writer coming to take you out. Jenny's told me all about it. It'll be a lovely treat for you.”

  “You bet. And it'll be a lovely treat for her too because I've written this article for her.”

  “Well, I might have a little treat up my sleeve for Peter here,” Elaine said, and she shuffled him off into a corner and started talking to him earnestly.

  She's still talking to him. She's keeping her voice down. But I can have very large waggly ears when I want. Elaine's going on about these people she knows. An older couple whose children have all grown up. And now they're a bit lonely. They'd like to look after someone. A little boy. Maybe a little boy just like Peter.

  So that's it. Little Peetie-Weetie is obviously going to get fostered and live Happily Ever After.

  Well, that's good, isn't it? Because he's my best friend.

  No, it's bad, because he won't be able to be my best friend anymore if he goes off and gets himself fostered.

  And it's not fair. He's hardly been here any time. I've been here ages and ages and no one ever wants to foster me now.

  Still, who wants to be fostered by some boring older couple anyway? Older might mean really ancient. And crabby. And strict. They'd never wear jeans or write funny letters or take Peter to McDonald's.

  I wish Cam would hurry up and come for me. Although it's nowhere near time. It's stupid sitting here by the window like this. Waiting.

  Justine is hovering behind me. I think she's waiting for her dad. I hope she won't tell him about the little accident with her Mickey Mouse clock. He might come and beat me up. Even though the clock's all mended now. Jenny took it into this shop and they fixed it. I was glad to see old Mickey ticktocking around and around again. Justine caught me looking and she gave me this big hard push that nearly knocked me over and told me that if I so much as touched her clock again she'd beat me up good and proper. Honestly! My fists clenched and I was all set to give it to her because no one talks to Tracy Beaker like that, but then I remembered my lunch date. Jenny isn't best pleased with me at the moment. If I got into a fistfight with Justine then she might not let me go out with Cam.


  So I Kept Calm. I smiled at Justine in a superior sort of way.

  “Really, Justine, do you always have to resort to violence?” I said.

  My superior willpower was wasted on Justine. She just thought I was chicken.

  “Cowardy cowardy custard,” she was mumbling under her breath now. “Tracy Beaker's got no guts.”

  I'm not going to take any notice of her. I'll just sit here writing. And waiting. It's not that long now. Only it seems like forever.

  I used to sit like this. When I waited for my mom. I wonder when she will come. I had that awful dream about her. I was out having lunch with Cam in McDonald's and it was really great and we were having a fabulous time together when I looked up at the clock and saw it was past one o'clock, and it suddenly rang a terrible bell in my head, and I remembered that my mom was coming to take me to lunch at one o'clock, and I just went panic panic panic.

  I charged off to try to get back to the Home in time and I got a bus but they threw me off because I didn't have enough money and then I ran into Auntie Peggy and she chased after me to give me a good smacking and Julie and Ted tripped me and Justine caught me and threw me in a river and I couldn't swim and I was drowning … and then I woke up. Wet.

  So okay, I know it was only a dopey old nightmare. But what if it was some kind of premonition??? What if my mom really comes for me today and I miss her because I'm having lunch with Cam?

  I'll have to talk to Elaine.

  Well, I've talked. Sort of.

  “Can I have a little chat, Elaine?” I said.

  “Tracy. I'm still having a little chat with Peter.”

  “You've had a little chat with Peter. Correction. You've had an extremely long and boring endless conversation with him. And you're my social worker just as much as his. So could you please come and have a little chat with me? It's sort of urgent.”

  Elaine sighed. She ruffled Peter's hair and gave him a little chuck under the chin. Then she came over to me at long last.

  “What is it then, Tracy?”

  I swallowed, not sure how to put it.

  “Tracy, are you just playing with me?” said Elaine.

  “No! It's just … Look, about my mom. She doesn't know I'm here, does she?”

  “Well. No, I don't think so.”

  “But if she wanted to find me she could, couldn't she?”

  I said it in a whisper but Justine heard.

  “Who'd ever want to come looking for you, Tracy Beaker?” she said.

  “You shut your mouth!”

  Justine made a hideous face and Louise giggled. Then she tugged at Justine's sleeve.

  “Come on. Let's see what that new girl's doing. She's got two whole suitcases with her, so she must have heaps of clothes.”

  But Justine wanted to stay at the window so Louise wandered off by herself. I knew Justine was still listening for all she was worth (honestly, some people have no decency whatsoever) but I had to keep on asking Elaine.

  “If my mom wanted she could go to that old children's home. And they could tell her where I am now, couldn't they?”

  “Yes, of course they would,” said Elaine. “Don't worry, Tracy. Each time you get moved somewhere else, there's a special record kept. So if your mom wants to see you it's easy. They look up your name and file number and find your present address.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “What's up, Tracy? You still look a bit worried.”

  “I'm okay.”

  Only I don't feel okay. What if my mom does come today? And I'm out having lunch with someone else? Will she wait for me? Or will she get fidgety and fed up and zoom off again? And I'll get back here and Jenny will say, “Oh, by the way, Tracy, your mom called when you were out, but she couldn't wait for you. She was all set to take you back to Hollywood with her but she had this plane to catch so she couldn't hang around.”

  What am I going to do?

  Maybe she won't come today. She hasn't ever come before. And yet, what if she did? I wish I hadn't had that dream. Dreams can come true.

  I feel sick. Maybe I don't really want to go to McDonald's after all.

  See that? It's real blood.

  I'm not going to get to go to McDonald's now, whether I want to or not. I've had a fight. I'm in the Quiet Room.

  This is how it happened. I went over to Peter. I whispered in his ear.

  “Would you like to go to McDonald's with Cam?”

  Peter scrunched up his neck because my whispers can be a bit tickly.

  “You mean, go with you?”

  “No. Go instead of me. I've kind of lost interest in the idea. It's okay, I'll tell Cam when she comes. She likes you a lot, so she won't mind taking you instead.”

  Peter looked worried.

  “I can't, Tracy. I'm going out too. With these people.”

  “What, with this boring older couple?” I said.

  Elaine raised her eyebrows at me but I took no notice.

  “I bet they won't take you to McDonald's,” I said.

  “Why don't you want to go, Tracy?” Elaine asked. “I thought you were so looking forward to it.”

  “Yes, but …I want to stay here. Just in case.”

  Elaine is a pain but she's also quite quick at putting two and two together.

  “Tracy, I don't think your mom will be coming today,” she said quietly.

  “Oh. I know that. Only I had this dream. She did in the dream.”

  “Yes, I'm sure she did. And I expect it was a lovely dream, but—”

  “No, it was a perfectly foul dream because I wasn't here to see her and—”

  “And you woke up blubbing with a soaking wet bed, baby,” Justine muttered.

  “I told you to shut up,” I said, getting really riled.

  “I'd go out with your writer friend, Tracy,” said Elaine.

  “Mmm. Well. I'm not sure I really want to now, anyway.” I glare at Peter. “Why do you have to be seeing this boring old couple today, eh? You could see them any old time. You go and have a Big Mac with Cam.”

  Peter wriggled. Elaine put her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her and then at me.

  “Sorry, Tracy. I want to meet them. Auntie Vi and Uncle Stanley.”

  “Of course you want to meet them, Peter. And Tracy is going to meet her writer,” said Elaine.

  “No, I'm not.”

  “I'd go,” said Justine. “Only I can't, because of my dad. I'm going out to lunch with him.”

  “You were supposed to be going out with him last Saturday. Only he never turned up,” I said.

  “Okay, but he does come sometimes. Not like your famous mom. She's never ever ever come for you,” said Justine.

  “Oh yes she has!” I yelled. “She's come for me lots of times. She's going to come and take me away for good, we're going to Hollywood together and—will you stop laughing at me, you great big pig.”

  “You're so stupid,” Justine gasped. “Your mom's not a movie star. Louise told me about your mom. She's nothing. And she's never coming for you. She hasn't been near you since you were little. I bet she's forgotten all about you. Or she's had heaps of other kids and doesn't want to think about that boring ugly Tracy ever again.”

  So I hit her. And I kept on hitting her. And I don't care. I've made her nose bleed again. She's hurt me a bit too, but I don't care. And now I'm stuck in the Quiet Room and it's past twelve and one of the other kids will get to go out to lunch with Cam instead of me and I don't care. At least it won't be Justine.

  Maybe my mom will come.

  There's someone outside the door. It's opening. Is it Mom???

  No. It wasn't Mom. It never is. It was Cam, of course.

  I took one look at Cam and burst into tears. Well, I would have, if I was a crying sort of person.

  “Oh dear,” said Cam. “I don't seem to have a very good effect on you, Tracy.”

  She sat right down on the floor beside me, waiting for me to quiet down a bit. Then she dug in the pocket of her jeans and
found a crumpled tissue. She passed it to me and I mopped up my hay fever.

  “Now,” said Cam. “What do you want to do?”

  “I haven't got any choice, have I? I'm stuck here.”

  “No you're not. You can still come out to lunch with me. I've asked Jenny. Elaine explained why you got upset.”

  “She doesn't know! I hate the idea of everyone all blabbing away about me,” I said fiercely.

  “Yes, it must get a bit annoying,” said Cam. “Still, at least it means you're the center of everyone's attention. Here, you've still got a runny nose. Good thing you weren't wearing your makeup this time.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Just a little tease. Coming?”

  “You bet.”

  Only I still felt bothered about my mom, even though I knew it was silly. I knew she almost definitely wouldn't be coming. I knew deep deep down that Justine was maybe right about her. But I still worried.

  “My mom,” I mumbled.

  “You're scared she'll come and you won't be here?” said Cam. “Okay. Tell you what we'll do. You can phone home when we're out. To see if she's arrived. And if she has I'll whisk you straight back. How about that?”

  “That sounds great,” I said.

  So Cam and I went off together for our lunch appointment after all. She's got this ancient grassgreen Citroën, which was a bit of a change from the minivan.

  “My mom wouldn't be seen dead in this sort of icky car,” I said. “She drives a Cadillac, you know.”

  “Mmm,” said Cam.

  I squinted at her. “You're just nodding to be nice to me, aren't you?” I said. “You don't really believe my mom's got her own Cadillac.”

  Cam looked at me. “Do you believe it, Tracy?”

  I thought for a bit. “Sometimes.”

  Cam nodded again.

  “And sometimes I know I'm sort of making it up,” I mumbled. “Do you mind that? Me telling lies?”

  “I make things up all the time when I write stories. I don't mind a bit,” said Cam.

  “I've got that article with me. I've written it all. You won't have to bother with a thing. Shall I read a bit to you? You'll be really impressed, I bet you will. I think I've done a totally professional job.”