Betsey Biggalow Is Here! (4 page)

Then a strange thing happened. Old Faithful bounced off Mr Mighty Marble.

“Ooooh!” said everyone.

Josh’s marble wasn’t well. It wasn’t well at all. Mr Mighty Marble, Mr Super Marble, Mr Bigger-than-anyone-else’s Marble had cracked into four pieces. Each piece lay on the path, glistening and glittering just as loudly as before.

Betsey picked up Old Faithful and stared at it.

“Wow, Betsey. That’s some marble,” everyone said.

Josh carefully picked up the pieces that made up what used to be Mr Mighty Marble.

“Look what you did.” Josh stared down at the pieces in his hand.

“Mr Mighty Marble doesn’t look so mighty any more.” May laughed.

“Sorry, Josh,” Betsey said. “You can have any five of my marbles if you want.” Betsey held out her bag of marbles.

“Can I have Old Faithful?” Josh asked hopefully.

“No chance!” said Betsey firmly. “Old Faithful may be small, but he’s a real super marble.”

Josh looked down and kicked at the ground with the toe of his right shoe.

“Come on, Josh.” Betsey smiled. “I’ll give you my second best marble instead.”

“Oh, all right then,” Josh said at last. Betsey handed over her bag and let Josh pick out five marbles he wanted.

Then Betsey, May and all their friends set off for home, telling tales of Old Faithful, the mightiest marble of them all.

The moment Betsey opened her eyes, she was awake. She grinned and sat up. Saturday morning! And only one more week until Dad came home. And no school!
And
they were all going into town today. Today was going to be a good day!

“Yippee! Saturday!” Betsey sprang out of bed.

She put on her slippers and went to have her shower. When she’d finished, she went for her breakfast. Sherena and Desmond were already at the table. So was Gran’ma Liz.

“Sit down, Betsey,” said Mum. “I’ll get your breakfast.” Betsey turned in her chair to look at Mum.

“What’s for breakfast, Mum?” Betsey sniffed the air. “Ham?”

“And scrambled eggs,” said Mum.

“Scrumptious.” Betsey grinned. She turned around. There before her was a long, cool glass of orange juice.

“Yumptious-scrumptious!” said Betsey. And she picked up the glass and started to drink. Ooh, it was cold! Ooh, it was refreshing! Ooh, it was delicious!

“Betsey, you toad! That’s
my
orange juice,” said Desmond.

“Then what’s it doing in front of my plate?” Betsey replied.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” said Desmond. “It’s still my orange juice.”

“Desmond boy, don’t call your sister a toad,” said Gran’ma Liz. “If she’s a toad, then you must be one too because you’re her brother.” Desmond started to sulk.

“Desmond, there’s plenty of orange juice for everyone, so behave,” said Mum. “And Betsey, if you want some orange juice, pour some for yourself. Don’t just help yourself to your brother’s.”

“But . . . but . . .” Betsey protested. Botheration! The glass
had
been in front of her plate. Never mind, today was
Saturday
! Betsey handed over the now half empty glass to Desmond.

“Huh!” said Desmond, still sulking. He put the glass to his lips and finished his orange juice with one gulp. Then he poured himself another one.

“Pass the sugar, Betsey,” said Sherena, stirring her coffee.

“Manners!” said Gran’ma Liz. “What do you say?”

“Please,” said Sherena. “Please, please, please!”

With a grin, Betsey handed over the sugar bowl. Sherena added a spoonful of sugar to her coffee, then another spoonful, then another, and another.

“Sherena girl, by the time you’re sixteen, you’ll not have one tooth left in your head if you carry on like that,” said Gran’ma Liz.

“I like it sweet, Gran’ma Liz.” Sherena smiled. “Besides, I want to put on weight. I’m as skinny as a needle – worse luck. Everyone says so.” Sherena lifted her coffee cup to her lips. She’d barely taken one sip when immediately she started to gag and cough. The cup fell from her hand. Both hands flew to her throat, as she coughed and spluttered and coughed some more, her eyes watering.

“Sherena? Sherena, what’s the matter?” Mum ran over to her and so did Gran’ma Liz. Betsey sprang out of her chair. “Sherena, are you all right?”

“Salt!” Sherena coughed. “There’s s-salt in that bowl, not s-sugar.”

“Whose turn was it to fill the sugar bowl last night?” Mum frowned. All eyes turned slowly to Betsey. Betsey’s mouth dropped open.

“I thought I put sugar in it – honest!” she said quickly. Mum took the sugar bag and the salt bag out of the cupboard.

“Which bag did you use?” she asked.

Betsey stared at the bags. One was white and red, the other was red all over. The first bag said SALT on it and the second bag said FINEST SUGAR.

“Er . . . I . . . er . . .” began Betsey.

“I’m waiting, Betsey.” Mum pursed her lips.

“I used the white and red bag to fill the sugar bowl,” Betsey admitted, adding quickly, “But it wasn’t my fault. The salt bag was on the kitchen table and I thought it was the sugar bag and I was in a hurry because I was missing a film on the T.V. . . .”

“More haste, less speed.” Gran’ma Liz wagged her finger.

Mum frowned. “Betsey! What is the matter with you today? First you drink you brother’s orange juice, then you try to poison your sister.”

“But it wasn’t purpose work,” said Betsey. “I didn’t do it deliberately. I only . . .”

“Betsey, if you carry on like this, we’ll leave you with May’s parents and go to town without you,” said Mum. “If I take you into town, goodness only knows what havoc you’ll cause.”

“I won’t cause any havoc, Mum. I promise,” Betsey said quickly. She didn’t want to miss the trip into town. No, she didn’t!

“So you say,” said Mum. “But you’ve only been awake for five minutes and look what’s happened already.”

Betsey couldn’t argue with that so she said nothing. She thought a lot though. And her thoughts started with “botheration” and ended with “botheration”!

At least it’s Saturday – and only seven more days till Dad comes home, Betsey thought to herself. That thought cheered her up a little.

After breakfast, they all had to hurry up and get ready in order to catch the bus into town. In her bedroom, Betsey kicked off her slippers and looked around for the pink and grey trainers her Mum had bought her. She found one by the bedroom door where she and Sherena always left their shoes, but could she find the other one? No, she couldn’t! Betsey searched high and low, under the bed and in the bottom of the wardrobe.

“Betsey! Speed up!” Mum called out.

“Coming, Mum,” Betsey called back. Betsey hunted to the left of the bedroom and to the right of the bedroom and she still couldn’t find her other trainer.

“BETSEY!” Mum said. “What are you doing? We’re going to miss our bus.”

“Mum, I can’t find one of my trainers,” Betsey yelled.

“Then wear your sandals, but hurry up! That bus won’t wait for ever.”

Betsey stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips. Botheration! Double botheration! Where
was
that other trainer?

“Betsey!” Mum came into the room. “Come on.”

“But Mum, I wanted to wear my trainers,” Betsey said.

Mum looked around the room. She pointed under the chest of drawers. “Isn’t that your other shoe?”

Betsey looked down. There, just sticking out from the bottom of the chest of drawers was the other trainer.