Bad Dreams

by Anne Fine

  And, no, I thought. I really don’t think that I’ll give a hoot. It seems to me that you can only get truly jealous of people if they are somehow exactly the way you’ve always wanted to be (or think you are already, but others don’t realize).

  But I don’t want to be what Mr Hooper calls, ‘a little more gregarious’.

  I just want to be me.

  And Imogen should have the right to be her real self, too. So seeing her leaning back against the radiator, laughing, with the wet ends of her hair being flicked by Hal, made it easier to sneak away, back through the footbaths into the crowded changing rooms, where even Miss Rankin had lost track of who was coming and going.

  ‘Excuse me . . . Can I get through please? . . . Sorry . . .’ Finally I made it past the busy cubicles back to the bench. I glanced round quickly, then slid my fingers inside Imogen’s tightly wrapped pile of clothes. And all I can say is that I hope she makes a better job of hiding the next piece of jewellery somebody gives her.

  The glittering loops of this one practically fell into my hand.

  And it was the weirdest thing. Suddenly I felt as if I were already underwater – way, way down, lost in a storm of bubbles.

  ‘Oh!’

  I clawed at my throat. I couldn’t breathe and my knees were buckling beneath me.

  ‘Are you all right?’ A little second year had heard me gasping. ‘Shall I go and get Miss Rankin for you?’

  I was so close to fainting that I dropped the necklace, which fell in a fold of towel. Only then did I manage to gather my senses.

  ‘No, no. I’m fine,’ I said, even before the wave of panic passed, leaving me even more sure I had to get this horrid chain of Imogen’s out of our lives. Not even caring whose towel it was I was borrowing, I scrunched the necklace up in it as tightly as I could without touching, and pushed my way through all the second years rushing out of the cubicles, to hurry back the way I’d come, towards the footbaths.

  And how I thought I might intimidate a golden chain with my determination, I’ll never know. (I’m not in the habit of talking to jewellery.) But as I splashed through the arch, I found myself whispering to it, horribly fiercely:

  ‘Don’t think you’re going to beat me. Because you’re not!’

  I heard a voice behind me. ‘Keep your hair on, Mel. Only a race.’

  I spun round. Stepping out of the footbaths on the boys’ side was Toby Harrison, who’d win the Harries Cup for sure if I weren’t swimming.

  ‘I didn’t mean you,’ I said hastily.

  He looked offended. ‘I’m sure I don’t know who you do mean, then.’

  How can you try and explain you’re talking to a necklace? You can’t. So I shut up, except to say, ‘Well, good luck, anyway.’

  He grinned. ‘And good luck to you, Melly. See you at the finish – when I look back over my shoulder!’

  ‘Keep dreaming, Toby!’

  He went off towards his friends, and I stuffed the towel under the heating pipe, and hurried back to join our relay queue. It had become so short that people were panicking.

  ‘Mel, where have you been?’

  ‘We thought you’d vanished.’

  ‘We still have nearly half a width to make up. You can do it, can’t you?’

  Can I save half a width? Can Granny knit? I did the fastest racing dive Miss Rorty says she’s ever seen in a school gala. I was across the pool so fast that poor Hugh Gregory had no idea his class had lost till he shook the hair from his eyes and saw my fingertips already on the ledge, and me turning, laughing.

  ‘But I was—’

  I didn’t hear the end for cheers.

  ‘Brilliant, Mel!’

  ‘Saved!’

  I did a celebratory backwards flip in the water. I thought I might as well. I knew I wasn’t going to beat any speed records winning the Cup race – not with the tumble turn that I’d been practising up at the deep end. As soon as Miss Rorty saw that, she’d stop all her cheery nodding and waving. She’d be too busy wondering what on earth could have happened to turn a race that should have been a dead cert from the very start into a risky business with only three seconds to spare.

  But there was no way round it. And I would at least still win the Cup. In my last practice session I’d timed it over and over. Four extra seconds for the tumble turn, and two more to get up to speed.

  It could be done. And I’d do it.

  And the best thing was that I couldn’t possibly be tempted to fiddle with the plan. How could I? It was all worked out. Only one way to do it. Start from the shallower end, and, in a three-length race, you only get one tumble turn under the boards.

  Or – put it another way – only one chance.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Miss Rorty held the whistle between her teeth and looked down the line.

  Eight of us on our starting blocks. And me already shivering because, to get the right one, I’d had to take my place ages before.

  ‘Ready?’

  She raised an eyebrow because I wasn’t in my usual stance. But finally, after about a billion years, she blew the whistle.

  I lost the first two seconds then and there.

  You try it. Try a racing dive, flinging yourself out over the water, stretching so thin you cut air. Then try it with one hand clamped to your hip to stop a slinky, cunning gold chain wriggling out of your swimsuit and landing on the tiles to shriek ‘Stolen!’ at everyone and shame you for ever.

  You’d have played safe like I did, and done a bellyflop too.

  But in the huge, embarrassing splash of it, I did at least manage to hook out the chain. I couldn’t do my usual strong spading through the water with it grasped in my hand. So it took time even to pull ahead of four particular pairs of feet I’ve never seen in front of me in my life, and reach the deep end. By then, at least, I’d even managed to pass the slower of the twins. But Toby and Surina were well ahead. And even Josh Murphy was thundering along at a good pace.

  But I still had to do my stupid tumble turn. It might sound mad, but what was mostly in my mind was the thought of poor Miss Rorty who’d spent so much time training and encouraging me, and knew how important this race had become, and how much I wanted to win it. I knew she’d be standing at the edge, filled with dismay, wondering what on earth had happened to her best swimmer. First, that dreadfully clumsy starting dive; then the ham-fisted way I was ploughing through the water with one hand firmly clenched. And, now, coming up, the worst tumble turn she could imagine.

  But there was no way round it. Instead of tucking up my legs and twisting fast to kick off straight and hard the way I’d come, I was about to waste even more time swimming down to the bottom.

  To drop the necklace down the drain, where it would lie till, in the next water change, it would be swept into the sewers and out to sea.

  Out of our lives for ever. Just like in the books.

  And now the pool end was within my reach. Gathering myself into a ball, I tumbled perfectly, as I’ve been taught, and practised for so many hours. And, though it sounds crazy, even as I was doing it, I felt the necklace stir in my hand as if . . .

  I have to say it. As if it knew.

  And then the battle started. All round me there blew up that storm of bubbles I’d sensed before. At first, I thought they must be mine. I thought I must be letting out my breath – too fast, too soon.

  But it was nothing to do with me. It was the necklace. Even in all that cool water, the thing was scalding my fingers. Twisting and burning, trying to distract me, trying to make me let it go – anything rather than let itself be fed through one of the tiny squares of the drain grille and dropped out of sight for ever. That spiteful little chain of gold put up the worst fight. The water churned so fiercely I could barely see. My right hand burned so badly that, if I’d had breath to spare, I would have yelped.

  But I was suddenly furious. It was so unfair. I’d trained for months to win the Harries Cup. I didn’t ask Imogen Tate to come to our school. I didn’t ask M
r Hooper to put her next to me – in fact I as good as begged him not to!

  And just because I’d tried to fit in with what everyone wanted – be friendly, not hide in my books, get interested in real life for a change – everything had gone sour. And even swimming, the only other thing I liked and was good at, was being spoiled.

  You can’t talk under water. You lose your air in one large, glistening flood of bubbles. But if I could, I would have said it over again to Imogen’s horrible necklace.

  ‘Don’t think you’re going to beat me. Because you won’t!’

  Instead, I put my energy into one last enormous pull through the water. Clutching the chain, I swam down through the blizzard of angry bubbles till there, at last, I saw the drain.

  And slammed my hand down flat. I didn’t trust the necklace not to wriggle off. I rubbed the links of it over the grille till suddenly I felt the coils vanishing beneath my fingers as it went down. Now, under the flat of my palm, I could feel nothing but the clasp, a hard metallic lump still stubbornly clinging to the grille edge. And that’s when I had to make the worst decision of my life.

  ‘Come on!’ I tried to tell myself. ‘That’s it. You’ve done it. Swim back up, quick. There’s still a chance. You could still do it. You could still win the Harries Cup.’

  But that old clasp was hanging on. And I knew why. Oh, I’d swim off, thinking I’d done the job and Imogen was safe. But the necklace would beat me. The clasp would cling on to the grille till evening session – Intermediate Diving. One after another for an hour, Miss Pollard’s pupils would be plunging down. Someone was bound to spot it. I could hear them now.

  ‘Miss Pollard! Miss Pollard! Look what I’ve found trapped in the drain. It must belong to someone in the gala.’

  She’d reach down to take it. ‘It looks quite valuable. I’d better drop it by the school tomorrow.’

  No need to guess the rest. By break time, it would be back round Imogen’s neck, strangling her life.

  Professor Blackstaffe would have put it plainly enough.

  To do something seriously important for a friend, you have to make a sacrifice.

  Do you:

  A:Do it?

  B:Kid yourself your thing matters just as much?

  Acup’s a cup. It might be made to matter in a book. But it’s not serious. Not like real life.

  So I just did it – used up my very last spare second or two prising that hateful, stubborn little clasp off the drain grille, and pushing it through. I’d run out of air. My lungs were on fire. But I still stayed to watch it sink – down, down, resentfully, till it was out of sight.

  And then, at last, I let myself push away, up like an arrow. Breaking the surface, I took the very deepest breath, and stormed off after the others. I don’t think I’ve ever in my life swum any faster. I pounded along, meeting the others coming back the other way for their third and last length.

  I turned just as Surina reached the half-way mark. It was a brilliant tumble – fast and strong. I knew at least Miss Rorty would be pleased to see I hadn’t let her training down in front of everyone. It was my best turn ever.

  I slid through the water like a needle through silk. First I saw Surina’s toes, and then her knees, and then, since she was tiring, with one last great heave, I spun ahead. I took my next breath on the other side, to check the enemy. And, to my surprise, saw I’d left the other twin behind as well, and one more pull would bring me up to Toby.

  I’m a machine in water when I’m pounding hard. Miss Rorty says it’s like watching pistons in the engine of a great ship, or valves in a power station. I pulled on and on. And if the Harries Cup had only been a race one metre longer, there is not a shred of doubt I would have won it.

  As it was, I lost.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They were all there for me, I’ll give them that. Miss Rorty wrapped a towel round me so fast that only she and I knew when she pressed the corner of it to my face, she wasn’t blotting my hair at all, only stemming my tears of rage and frustration.

  Toby didn’t crow. All he said was, ‘Jeez, that was close! Just two more seconds, Mel, and you’d have done it.’

  Mr Hooper came up and hugged me even before he shook Toby’s hand. Then he grinned ruefully. ‘Oh, blimey. Now we’re going to have to exhume poor Mrs Harries so she can change the age rules on her Cup race.’

  And Maria said she saw Councillor Leroy whispering to his wife before she slipped out for a moment. And that it wasn’t just a mistake that the brand new award – Best Overall Swimmer – had been left off the programme. She says the pool keeps fat round medals like the one he gave to me behind the counter as spares in case of dead heats in competitions.

  So I knew what they all thought. And it was comforting. But not the same, even if everyone was cheering and stamping and giving me the thumbs up all the way back to the changing rooms. Because it was the Cup I wanted. And Mr Hooper can joke about digging up Mrs Harries all he likes, but it’s over now. Finished. No prize is the same if the people who organize it have to change the rules so you can win it. Who wants that?

  But it was worth it, I suppose – not that you’d think it from the way Imogen turned on me in the changing rooms.

  First, she was just a bit panicked.

  ‘My necklace! Where’s it gone?’

  ‘Isn’t it there?’

  ‘No!’ She rooted through her clothes pile in a frenzy, tossing and shaking everything. ‘It’s vanished.’

  She looked up wildly. All around us, people were gathering up their piles of clothes and making for the cubicles.

  ‘Please!’ she called. ‘Everyone look for my necklace. It’s disappeared.’

  Maria was in there like a flash, of course. ‘Miss Rorty said we weren’t to—’

  ‘I know what Miss Rorty said!’ Imogen snapped. ‘I know. I have ears. But Melly said—’

  She broke off and turned to look at me. You could see the first glimmer of suspicion. ‘Mel said she was quite sure it would be safe . . .’

  I had to try and pretend I cared. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You know.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’ I turned my back on her. I think I was really rather hoping she’d back off and leave me alone after my disappointment. But I was wrong.

  ‘You must know, Melly.’

  I tried to sound outraged. ‘Me? Why me?’

  ‘Because,’ she hissed, ‘you were the only one who knew my necklace was wrapped up in there.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘In fact,’ she added, ‘now I come to think, you were the one who suggested I left it there in the first place.’

  That’s when I panicked a little. ‘What would I want with your stupid necklace?’

  Her eyes flashed. Her voice rose. ‘You tell me, Mel! All I know is, you’ve taken an interest in it from the start. Practically the first thing you ever said to me was how much you liked it. And you asked if it was precious, and said you didn’t think you’d ever be given anything that valuable yourself.’

  Mirrors run all the way along the wall above the benches. Even the people with their backs to us could see I was blushing. The whole, huge, echoing changing room had fallen quiet.

  Except for us.

  ‘You really think I took it?’

  She stared deep in my eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I do. In fact, I’m sure you did. I think you’ve hidden it somewhere and you’ll sneak back for it later. And I think that’s why you lost your stupid, stupid race, Mel. Because you were too busy planning to steal my necklace – or too guilty after doing it – to swim your fastest.’

  And wasn’t I tempted, then, to spoil everything I’d done to save her from her horrible necklace! ‘I haven’t got it!’ I could have said to her. ‘But I will tell you that while I was swimming in my stupid, stupid race, I did see something glittery lying at the bottom of the pool, right by the drain.’

  That would have fixed her. They’d have found it and given it back to her in no time.<
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  And I was tempted. Very, very tempted. But I just gritted my teeth and thought of what Professor Blackstaffe would have said if he had overheard me. And at least I was sure now that I hadn’t thrown away the Cup for nothing. She’d never find the necklace. She just doesn’t read enough. If she read books, she’d understand that people live their own lives – lives completely special to them. They have their own things that matter, their own ways of going about them, and their own words to talk about them if they want. They don’t go through their lives like plastic counters moving round a board game, each one a bit different on the surface so you can tell them apart, but all the same inside. I wanted to shake her. ‘Look at me!’ I wanted to shout. ‘Look at me! Hello! It’s Mel here, speaking. Mel! You know! This person you’ve sat next to for five whole weeks, and call a friend. This person who’s spent three whole years wanting to win a race. Do you really think I’d toss the whole lot over just to take the chance to snatch a stupid necklace I wouldn’t even be able to wear? Do you? Do you?’

  But what was the point in setting Imogen off thinking? Pushed, she might just work out why someone like me might really want to take her necklace.

  Then she’d be one step nearer to working out where it was.

  No. At least till the pool had been drained, it was best to say nothing.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  But everyone else talked. Toby Harrison set it all off by accident, mentioning we’d wished one another good luck coming out of the footbaths.