Buried Alive! by Jacqueline Wilson

drinker,’ she murmured, as Kelly’s mum produced a bottle of Baileys.
    â€˜You try a drop of this,’ said Kelly’s mum. ‘Got a sweet tooth, have you? It tastes just like chocolate.’
    â€˜Like chocolate!’ said Biscuits. ‘Can I have some too?’
    Kelly’s mum gave him one weeny sip. Mum looked horrified – but when she took an even weenier sip of her own glassful she looked surprised. She didn’t say anything, but she drank it all up.
And
had another glass after that.
    It seemed to put her in a good mood because she didn’t say no when we all ordered take-away pizzas on Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave’s mobile phone.
    â€˜I’d never have thought I’d be ordering a pizza in Llanpistyll,’ said Dad.
    â€˜Well, don’t get too excited. We ordered them last night and the first lot went astray,’ said Kelly’s mum. ‘Some of them little toerags waylaid the guy on the pizza-bike. Honestly! Kids nowadays!’
    All the grown-ups started in on one of those yawny-yawny kids-of-today conversations while Dean showed us all his toys. I started fooling around with his Lego bricks and made him a little castle.
    â€˜Oh wow! That’s great, Tim,’ said Kelly. ‘Make one for me, eh?’
    The four of us played with the Lego. Baby Keanu kept trying to smash everything in sight. Then he mistook a red Lego brick for ababy rusk and rammed it in his mouth. He did his best to swallow. He started to turn as red as the brick.
    â€˜Keanu’s choking,’ said Kelly calmly, and she tipped him upside down and thumped him on the back.
    The brick came shooting out like a bullet. Keanu crowed happily, none the worse.
    â€˜That’s some party trick, Kelly,’ I said. ‘Does he often swallow things?’
    â€˜All the time,’ said Kelly. ‘Hey, I wonder what you were like as a baby, Biscuits! I bet you stuffed
everything
in your little gob. Bricks, rubber dollies, your own little booties . . .’
    â€˜His dummy, yum yum, chew chew, swallow! His baby bottle, yum yum, crunch crunch, swallow! Hey, his
pottie
, yum yum
OUCH
!’
    Biscuits was doing his best to turn
me
upside down, but mercifully the pizzas arrived just at that moment. We
all
went yum yum, munch munch. We ate outdoors because the caravan was quite a squash with eight and a half people shut inside. Lots of other people were sitting outside their caravans chatting and eating and drinking. Kelly and her family had only arrived yesterday but already everyone knew them. Some kids cameover and asked if Kelly was coming over to the swings with them.
    â€˜Maybe later. I’ve got my friends here, see,’ said Kelly. ‘Isn’t that right, Tim?’
    â€˜Sure, Kelly,’ I said, pleased to be singled out as Kelly’s special friend.
    Biscuits didn’t mind. He was busy with his second pizza.
    But then Dad went and spoilt it all.
    â€˜Why don’t you all play together, eh? How about a game of French cricket? I’ll show you how to play if you like.’
    â€˜Oh no,’ I mumbled. ‘Please don’t let’s play, Dad.’
    â€˜I shall get hiccups if I have to play,’ said Biscuits, his mouth full.
    â€˜I don’t want to play with those kids anyway, they’re boring,’ said Kelly.
    Dad didn’t listen to any of us. He started careering round looking for a bat and ball. He couldn’t find a bat at all and the only ball was a red and yellow stripey one belonging to Keanu. He’d just started the mammoth task of hugging it to his chest and licking it all over and he didn’t appreciate Dad taking it. Not one bit.
    â€˜There must be an old cricket bat somewhere,’ said Dad.
    â€˜Sorry, mate. Not my cup of tea, cricket,’said Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave.
    â€˜What about using my umbrella?’ said Kelly’s mum, hitching the howling Keanu onto her hip.