Twin Tales by Jacqueline Wilson Page B

catching a ball. But it didn’t really matter, because Connie’s best friend Karen wasn’t very good either. They were generally partners and puffed along together. Today Connie and Karen were nearly last in the race.
    â€˜Slowcoaches!’ said Angela. ‘Honestly, you two, you’re hopeless.’
    Angela had come first, even beating the boys.

    â€˜Who wants to run like
you
?’ said Connie.
    Angela did ballet and was always sticking her feet out sideways. Connie did a funny imitation and everyone laughed.
    â€˜Now then, Connie,’ said Miss Peters. ‘Don’t be silly, or I’ll make you run the race all over again.’
    â€˜Oh, Miss Peters! I hate running,’ said Connie.
    â€˜I know. Ah well, I don’t suppose you can be good at everything. Andmaybe you’ll come into your own next term.’
    â€˜What are we doing next term, Miss Peters?’ Karen asked.
    â€˜It’s a special treat,’ said Miss Peters.
    â€˜Is it dancing?’ Angela asked hopefully.
    â€˜Yuck! I hope not!’ said Connie.
    â€˜No, it’s not dancing. We’re going to go swimming.’
    â€˜Swimming!’ said everyone excitedly.
    Everyone but Connie.
    â€˜Swimming!’ she whispered, appalled.
    â€˜Yes, we’ve fixed it all up with the local swimming-pool. Our class can go once a week – in the big pool too!’
    Connie closed her eyes. That terrible blue watery world seemed to be swirling all around her. What was she going to do now? Could she manage a terrible cold/stomach ache/headache every single swimming lesson? It might work once or twice, but Miss Peters was no fool.
    â€˜Oh help,’ Connie mumbled.
    â€˜What’s up, Connie?’ said Karen.
    â€˜Nothing,’ said Connie quickly.
    â€˜It’s great about swimming, isn’t it?’ said Karen. ‘Heaps better than boring old PE. You go swimming with your dad, don’t you?’
    â€˜I . . . used to,’ said Connie. ‘We haven’t gone much recently.’
    Connie started to feel sick. She could see their whole class at the swimming-baths. Everyone showing off and teasing each other. She saw herself, shivering, scared, screaming. She’d never ever ever be able to live it down.

    She was still feeling sick when she came out of school. Gran had come to meet Connie.
    â€˜Hello, dear. What’s the matter? What’s happened? You look dreadful, Connie!’
    â€˜It’s nothing, Gran,’ said Connie, hurrying to get away from all the other children.
    Gran was in a hurry too, not wanting to miss her favourite quiz programme on television.
    â€˜Why don’t you set your new video so that it records it while you’re out?’ said Connie.
    â€˜Oh, I . . . I didn’t think of that,’ said Gran, sounding odd. ‘Come on, then, dear.’ They were passing the ice-cream van. ‘I think we can make time for an ice-cream,’ said Gran. ‘Would you like a giant ninety-nine with strawberry sauce?’
    Normally Connie would say YES, PLEASE. But she was still feeling so sick about swimming that she simply shook her head.
    Gran stared at her.
    â€˜Connie, there’s something
really
the matter, isn’t there?’ Gran put her arm round Connie and held her close.
    â€˜Tell me what it is, darling,’ said Gran.
    Connie screwed up her face. Her eyes were stinging and she was terribly scared she might cry. She took Gran’s hand and hurried her down the street and round the corner. Then she blurted it out.
    â€˜Miss Peters said we’ve got to go swimming with the school next term,’ she wailed.
    Gran looked at her blankly.
    â€˜But that’s good, isn’t it, dear? You’ve got yourself in a silly state about going swimming with Mummy and Daddy. Now you can go with all your friends and learn properly.’
    â€˜Oh, Gran! You don’t understand. I
can’t
go swimming.