Run, Zan, Run

by Cathy MacPhail

  ‘There! My wee girl’s smiling again.’ Mum couldn’t smile back, not without cracking the face mask. So she just hugged her. ‘Now, drink up your tea.’

  Katie was trying to avoid that. If her mother left the room she could surely find one plant left alive to deposit the dreaded brew. But tonight, her mother was determined to watch Katie sample her latest concoction. ‘Come on,’ she urged. ‘Drink up. It’s good for you.’

  Katie took a sip and wished she hadn’t. There was garlic in this one, and something that tasted vaguely of crushed dandelions – ones that had been kept well watered by the town’s cats.

  ‘That will send you to sleep,’ her mother assured her.

  ‘For ever,’ Katie added silently.

  ‘And I want you to wake up tomorrow and start enjoying life. Like you used to.’

  Katie knew she should try, but Zan just wouldn’t stay out of her mind for long. She thought about her in history, and got herself into trouble. She worried about her in maths, and got into more trouble. She was still thinking about her in PE when Mr Percy’s voice boomed out and almost sent her spinning off the bench in the gym.

  ‘Katie Cassidy! You haven’t heard a thing I’ve been saying, have you?’

  ‘Yes, I have sir,’ she lied.

  ‘OK. Repeat.’

  She looked round for help, trying to lip-read the mouthed instructions the rest of the class were giving her. It was no use.

  ‘Not a clue,’ Mr Percy admitted for her. ‘Well, since you’re obviously not interested in what I’ve been saying, perhaps you’d like to do something else instead …?’

  ‘Me?’ Her very worst subject was PE. She hated sports. The only thing she even remotely liked was badminton, and she wasn’t good at that.

  ‘Yes, you. Three laps round the gym. Running. Full speed. Right now!’

  There was no arguing with Mr Percy. When he said go, you went. She was only half-way round when she’d had enough. But she knew from experience that she could fall down and die in the gym, and he would not take pity on her. He wasn’t called No Mercy Percy for nothing.

  She passed him, breathing hard. Any sensible man would have had her on oxygen. Mr Percy ignored her. He kept on talking to the rest of the class.

  ‘A wonderful gym … and I think we should be making more use of its facilities …’

  Like life-saving classes, Katie might have suggested, if she’d had the breath.

  Second time around she stopped, panting, beside him. The rest of the class were already giggling, as they usually did when Katie did sports. She bent and rested her hands on her knees.

  ‘Did … you say … two … laps … sir …?’ she suggested hopefully.

  ‘Three!’ he snapped. ‘Now run!’

  And Katie was off again, her legs almost buckling under her.

  ‘So … have we any suggestions for a class after school? And let’s learn something useful at the same time.’

  ‘Ballroom dancing?’ There was a collective groan, and the suggester of that one almost went flying off the bench too.

  ‘Sword fencing?’

  ‘In this school!’ Mr Percy boomed again. ‘You lot would have wiped out each other within the week.’

  ‘Sir … sir …’ Katie struggled to get the words out.

  He turned. ‘Did you say something, Cassidy?’

  ‘Sel … l … l …’

  ‘Out with it, girl.’

  Couldn’t he see she was trying? She might die first.

  ‘Self-defence classes, sir.’

  Then she fell in a heap on the floor. If he wanted her to finish this final lap, he’d have to carry her round himself.

  Mr Percy stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Mmm, interesting idea. Any particular reason why you suggested that one, Cassidy?’

  ‘I think if we learned to defend ourselves –’ she took another deep breath ‘– we’d be able to take care of ourselves more …’

  ‘Defend yourself? Against what?’

  ‘There are such things as bullies, sir.’

  There was a murmur of approval and agreement. Mr Percy glanced at them. ‘The rest of you agree?’

  ‘It’s a great idea, sir.’

  ‘Aye. Self-defence. Brilliant.’

  ‘Can you teach us that, sir?’

  ‘But who’s to say the bullies won’t take up the selfdefence classes too?’ was Mr Percy’s next question.

  ‘Because that’s not how they fight,’ Katie answered at once. ‘But if they come, well, let them. At least they won’t be able to pick on us if we can take care of ourselves.’

  ‘That’s actually a rather sensible suggestion, Cassidy.’ He sounded slightly astonished, as if a sensible suggestion was the last thing he would have expected from her.

  The rest of the class once again murmured their approval.

  ‘Let me see what I can organize,’ Mr Percy told them as he dismissed them from class.

  Katie sat in her bedroom, trying to concentrate on her history project. All she could think of was Zan.

  ‘Is Mr Whittaker still here?’ She had asked her father at teatime. They were still not on the best of terms. Something hung between them. That something was Zan, and the lies she was telling to protect her.

  ‘He’s still here,’ he had answered.

  ‘He must be leaving soon, though. If he’s not able to find this … mysterious girl … what’s the point of him staying?’

  ‘He won’t give up so easily, Katie.’ He was trying to make her understand. ‘His clients … this girl’s parents … are desperate to find their child. I can understand that. The man has to make sure. I think he’s going to interview …’ he hesitated ‘… these girls you had trouble with.’

  ‘But Ivy Toner’ll say there is another girl … because she would lose face if wee Katie Cassidy beat her.’

  ‘He wants to talk to them anyway.’

  ‘And of course he’ll believe her before he believes me!’ And then she added, just because she wanted to hurt him. ‘Just like you do.’

  It was another worry to add to the others. Of course, the Posse would insist Katie and Zan were one and the same. So would Lindy and Michelle. But Ivy … Ivy was another matter altogether.

  Oh, she had to think of something to help Zan, to keep her safe, here with Katie. ‘Look who’s come to see you, darling.’ Her mother blocked the doorway and stepped aside to reveal Nazeem.

  ‘Katie! I haven’t seen you for days!’ Nazeem’s bright smile lit up the room. So much for Katie’s history project, and thinking up a plan to save Zan.

  Her mother left them, and Nazeem immediately threw herself on the bed. That was Nazeem. Everything she did, she threw herself into. She began to chatter about her family, the postman’s bad feet and the letter he had brought from her aunt in India. The good thing about Nazeem was you didn’t have to listen to her. The bad thing was you couldn’t concentrate on anything else. And here she was trying desperately to work out a plan.

  ‘And I told him. You’re just magic. I can’t say anything more, I told him. Katie’s just magic.’

  ‘I’m what …?’ Katie was pulled back to Nazeem’s conversation. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Aren’t you listening?’

  Katie tried to look as if she had been.

  ‘That Mr Whittaker came. I don’t like him, Katie. He gives me the creeps. He was asking all sorts of questions.’

  Katie sat upright. ‘And what did you tell him?’

  ‘So silly. He was trying to get me to say there was another girl that day. She was the one that tied up the Posse.’ She tutted and rolled her big eyes, as if anyone could be that stupid. ‘But I just told him. There was no other girl. It was you. You came and saved me.’

  ‘Good, Nazeem.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to let any other girl get the credit. So I just told him. Katie’s magic. She can turn into this other girl whenever she wants.’

  Katie’s feelings went from relief to apprehension. He was either go
ing to think everyone in this town was a half-wit or (and this was what frightened her) he was still going to follow the trail that might lead him to Zan.

  ‘I did right, didn’t I, Katie? I know you said you’re not magic, but …’ Nazeem smiled. Nothing would ever convince her otherwise. ‘I know the truth.’ She went prattling on. ‘Although actually I don’t know why I should be so loyal to someone who totally ignores me.’

  ‘Me?’ Katie said. ‘When have I ever ignored you? When would I ever get the chance?’

  Nazeem tutted. ‘Yesterday, it was. As I was going home from school.’

  ‘It wasn’t me, Nazeem. I wasn’t near your school yesterday.’

  ‘I know you when I see you. And you knew it was me. Even though you were a way off. I called your name. “Katie!” I shouted. And you turned right round.’

  ‘It wasn’t me, Nazeem!’ Katie insisted. But Nazeem wouldn’t listen.

  ‘It was too. You were wearing a green anorak, and I must say, Katie, your hair looked absolutely filthy. As if you hadn’t washed it in ages.’ She took a deep, offended breath. ‘And you turned right round, and you looked at me. And I waved … and then you ran … you ran away from me, Katie.’

  She pouted, waiting for an apology.

  Katie looked thoughtful. She knew what had happened. It had been Zan. And then Katie smiled.

  ‘I don’t know what’s so funny, Katie. Why are you smiling like that?’

  ‘Because you’re wonderful, Nazeem.’

  And she was.

  And because, suddenly, Katie knew exactly how she was going to get rid of Mr Whittaker for good.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘You want your clothes back!’ Zan obviously couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Some charity this is. I hope you get fleas!’

  Katie handed her a black bin bag she’d been carrying. ‘Here. I brought you more.’

  ‘I haven’t got a wardrobe, you know. Where am I supposed to keep all these?’

  ‘You’ve been seen, Zan.’

  She heard Zan catch her breath. ‘That wee Nazeem, wasn’t it? I thought she was going to chase me.’

  ‘She thought you were me,’ Katie said, her excitement mounting. ‘She really thought you were me. Nazeem, who sees me almost every day. She makes sure of it.’

  ‘So?’ Zan was baffled.

  Maybe, just maybe, Katie thought, she was as bright as Zan. She just hadn’t had the need to use her wits before. Necessity was, after all, the mother of brilliant ideas.

  ‘So …?’ Zan urged impatiently. ‘Are you going to tell me? Or are you just going to sit there looking pleased with yourself all day?’

  ‘You’re going to let yourself be seen, over the next couple of days … like that …’ She indicated the green anorak and jeans.

  ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ Zan was horrified. ‘Your dad’s vultures are everywhere. Forcing shelter and soup and fresh clothes on people, whether they want them or not.’

  ‘That’s exactly why some of them have to see you. You won’t get caught and you’re good at hiding. You told me that yourself.’

  Zan threw her head back proudly. ‘The best!’

  ‘And you’re good at running too.’

  ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘But I’m not. I’m going to get caught.’

  Zan still looked puzzled.

  ‘Don’t you see? Over the next few days you’re spotted. Word gets back to Whittaker – and it will – and on Friday, I’ll swap clothes with you. I’ll be the girl in the green anorak. And when they run after me … I’ll be caught. I can’t run for toffee.’

  ‘Why Friday?’

  ‘Because on Friday, Dad is supervising the soup kitchen at Hill Street. Mr Whittaker is going to be there with him. I heard him tell Mum. Both of them will catch me dressed as you – they couldn’t not believe me after that!’

  ‘And you think he’ll fall for that?’ The idea appealed to Zan, Katie could tell by the enthusiastic way she asked the question.

  ‘I think he might. He believes there’s someone, and that someone is always linked to me. Everyone he talks to tells him it’s me, one and the same. All he needs is one final wee push, and I think he’ll believe it’s me too.’

  Zan was still not completely convinced. ‘And what excuse are you going to give your dad for running about in old clothes and condemned houses?’

  ‘I’ve already thought about that. I’ll tell him I managed to beat Ivy, and she made up the story about the other girl because she was so mortified that wee Katie Cassidy had got one over on her. So I thought if I dressed up like her they’d all believe it and leave me alone.’

  Lies, lies and more lies, she heard her father’s voice somewhere accusing her, and she felt guilty. She pushed the guilt away. It was for a good cause. The best.

  ‘And he’ll believe that?’

  ‘As long as Mr Whittaker believes it, that’s all that matters.’

  Zan considered it all thoughtfully. Katie shivered. It was bitterly cold in the derelict flat Zan now called home. She had furnished one corner with a new cardboard box, lined with an old blanket. Home. Katie shivered again. How could she sleep here?

  Safer than anywhere else she’d been, she’d told Katie. Safer? Here? Where have you been, Zan?

  ‘OK!’ Zan slapped her knees. ‘We’ll give it a try. I’m in the mood for a wee bit of excitement anyway.’

  On Wednesday her father told her that a girl had been seen on the dump. Just a glimpse, but enough to give Mr Whittaker some hope that he was on the right trail at last.

  ‘What do you think of that?’ her father asked, looking for some sign of guilt. He didn’t have to look very far. Katie couldn’t hide her blush. ‘You said there was no girl. Remember?’

  ‘Maybe it’s a different girl. I’ve not seen her. How should I know?’

  His eyes narrowed. He was annoyed with her. He began to say something else, then he changed his mind. He didn’t understand. She knew that.

  Things began to happen at school too. Katie was walking along the corridor when she was stopped by Mr Percy.

  ‘Ah, Katie,’ Mr Percy said. ‘I’ve been thinking over your suggestion. Self-defence classes, remember?’

  Of course she remembered. Silly question.

  ‘I’ve been taking a survey, and it’s a very popular idea. Good for young women to be able to take care of themselves. Even if there isn’t a problem with bullies in this school.’ He paused. His eyes never left hers. She had a feeling he had been talking to Miss Withers.

  Katie smiled back at him. ‘I think it’s a great idea, sir.’

  ‘I won’t be starting them till after the Christmas break. In January. Sound all right?’

  Christmas. Only a few weeks away. What would have happened by then?

  ‘However … I do have another little idea I thought we might talk about.’

  ‘We?’ Katie said in surprise. ‘You and me, sir?’

  ‘Yes. You and me, Katie. I haven’t time to talk about it now. But I’ll get back to you.’ Then he was bounding off down the corridor to his next class.

  ‘I wonder what his idea is?’ she thought. And Mr Percy wanted to talk to her about it. Little Katie Cassidy?

  She was ensconced in her room with Nazeem when her mother appeared.

  ‘I’m off to my meeting, Katie. Now, Nazeem, you’re sure your father’s going to pick you up?’

  ‘Oh yes, Mrs Cassidy.’

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ Katie asked as her mother was closing the door.

  ‘He’s gone with Mr Whittaker to speak to someone who caught sight of that girl on the dump.’

  When her mother had gone, Nazeem asked, ‘Don’t your mum and dad know that’s you?’

  Katie didn’t quite know how to answer that one, but she didn’t have to worry. Nazeem answered it herself. ‘They probably wouldn’t believe you anyway. Parents don’t believe in magic.’ She bounced up and down on the bed. Katie wondered how her bed survived it. ‘Oh, this is fun. I wish we coul
d have a sleepover.’ Suddenly her eyes widened as if she’d just had a brilliant idea. ‘Let’s have one on Friday night! Mother’s always saying I should have friends to sleep over. Will you come, Katie? Friday night?’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to.’ Somehow, Katie had a feeling by Friday night she’d be grounded.

  ‘But why not?’ Nazeem waited for an answer. Katie hesitated, not quite sure how to answer her. She needn’t have worried. Nazeem supplied her own answer.

  ‘You’re going to help someone, aren’t you. The way you helped me?’

  ‘I’m not going to be able to come to your house, Nazeem.’

  Nazeem nodded enthusiastically. ‘I understand. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.’ She paused. ‘You wouldn’t mind if I had some other friends over to stay?’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t,’ Katie assured her.

  ‘Friday is going to be just great!’ screamed Nazeem excitedly.

  Friday, thought Katie, is going to be a very important day for us all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Were they never going to spot her? Katie had been sitting here at the corner of Hill Street for half an hour. Her bottom was frozen and she was fed up. She’d been so sure someone would have seen her and passed the message on to her father and Mr Whittaker at the Community Hall. That is, until one old man on his way there stopped and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, dearie. I won’t say a word.’ He put a black-fingernailed hand across his whiskered mouth. ‘Not a word.’

  They were loyal, these people of the streets. They knew Zan didn’t want to be found. They thought she was Zan. She would have to do something else. She’d have to go nearer, though she didn’t want to. She wanted at least to give them a run for their money, and she reminded herself: she couldn’t run for toffee.

  She struggled to her feet. It was icy underfoot and she almost slipped. She was going to run in this? What was she doing here? You’re daft, Katie Cassidy, she told herself. Daft as a brush.

  She trudged towards the Community Hall. People were going in, people were coming out. She hardly looked. She didn’t think anyone was going to notice her anyway, or tell on her if they did. It had been a stupid, useless plan.