Cliffhanger by Jacqueline Wilson Page B

I’m OK at Maths and ...’
    â€˜
Games
, you berk!’ said Giles, sneering. ‘What school teams are you in?’
    â€˜I’m not,’ I said.
    You’re not in
anything
? Oh great!’ said Giles sarcastically. ‘We’ve got three girls, old Fatso here, and
you
.’
    The fat boy was sprawling on his bed, eating a biscuit.
    â€˜Less of the Fatso,
Piles
,’ he said, munching.
    I giggled. I know what piles are. My dad had them once.
    The fat boy giggled too. ‘Hi, I’m Biscuits,’ he said. ‘What’s your name, then?’
    â€˜Tim,’ I said, putting my bag down on the bed next to Biscuits.
    â€˜Not
that
one! That’s my bed,’ said Giles, knocking my bag on to the floor.
    â€˜Your bed’s that one over there,’ said Biscuits. ‘We’re supposed to get unpacked . They’re going to ring a bell when it’s teatime. I can’t wait, I’m starving.’
    He unwrapped another biscuit and started serious munching again. Giles unzipped a tennis racquet and started swinging it wildly in the air, practising his serve.
    I started unpacking all my stuff. My T-shirts and pyjamas smelt all clean and flowery of home. I had to bend over my bag so that Giles and Biscuits wouldn’t see my watery eyes.
    Then I felt a sudden bang on the head.
    â€˜Watch out!’ I squeaked.
    â€˜Sorry. Just practising,’ said Giles. ‘Oh goodness, you’re not blubbing, are you? I hardly touched you.’
    I sniffed hard.
    â€˜Have you brought your tennis racquet then?’ Giles asked.
    I started to worry some more.
    â€˜I thought they were meant to provide all the racquets and that,’ I said.
    â€˜That’s right,’ said Biscuits. He quietly passed me a tissue. It was a bit chocolatey but it was still fine for mopping operations.
    â€˜It’ll be just ropey old stuff,’ said Giles scornfully. ‘I’ve brought my own equipment.’
    He started rifling through his bags, showing us. It all looked brand new and very expensive.
    â€˜I’ve brought my own equipment too,’ said Biscuits, grinning. He nudged me and pulled open a big picnic bag. I saw bags and bags of biscuits, crisps, apples, sweets and cans of cola.
    â€˜Yummy,’ I said.
    Biscuits rubbed his tummy.
    Giles sighed in a superior manner.
    â€˜I’ve brought one bit of equipment,’ I said, showing him my safety helmet.

    I knew it was a mistake as soon as I’d got it out. Especially as Mum had painted TIM in bright pink letters on the front.
    Giles did a deliberate double-take.
    â€˜What’s that, then?’ he said. Though of course he knew.
    â€˜Well. It’s a safety helmet,’ I said.
    â€˜I see,’ said Giles. ‘When are you going to wear it then?’
    â€˜When I’m . . . when . . .’ my voice tailed away.
    Giles was serving madly and I had to dodge sharpish.
    â€˜When little baby diddums is playing tennis?’ Giles jeered. ‘In case he gets banged on the bonce, is that it?’
    I pretended to ignore him. I wanted to keep well out of Giles’s way so I went over to the wardrobe and put all my stuff away. Then I hunched up on my bed and wrote my first postcard.
    Biscuits offered me a bite of his biscuit while I was writing it. The biscuit was a bit slurpy and soggy, but it was still nice of him.
    I added a P.S. to my first postcard.



Chapter Two
    THAT FIRST EVENING at the Adventure Centre was awful. Awful awful awful.
    Well. Tea was OK. We had beef-burgers and chips and peas. There was tomato sauce on the table. Biscuits and I messed about, pretending the tomato sauce was blood. The pretend started to get a bit real and I stared at the scarlet pool all over my plate and decided I wasn’t really hungry any more.
    It didn’t matter though. Biscuits ate my tea as well as his own.
    We sat with Giles. Kelly came and squashed in beside us too. She said