Free Run, Zan, Run by Cathy MacPhail Page B

the rest of the class were giving her. It was no use.
    ‘Not a clue,’ Mr Percy admitted for her. ‘Well, since you’re obviously not interested in what I’ve been saying,perhaps you’d like to do something else instead …?’
    ‘Me?’ Her very worst subject was PE. She hated sports. The only thing she even remotely liked was badminton, and she wasn’t good at that.
    ‘Yes, you. Three laps round the gym. Running. Full speed. Right now!’
    There was no arguing with Mr Percy. When he said go, you went. She was only half-way round when she’d had enough. But she knew from experience that she could fall down and die in the gym, and he would not take pity on her. He wasn’t called No Mercy Percy for nothing.
    She passed him, breathing hard. Any sensible man would have had her on oxygen. Mr Percy ignored her. He kept on talking to the rest of the class.
    ‘A wonderful gym … and I think we should be making more use of its facilities …’
    Like life-saving classes, Katie might have suggested, if she’d had the breath.
    Second time around she stopped, panting, beside him. The rest of the class were already giggling, as they usually did when Katie did sports. She bent and rested her hands on her knees.
    ‘Did … you say … two … laps … sir …?’ she suggested hopefully.
    ‘Three!’ he snapped. ‘Now run!’
    And Katie was off again, her legs almost buckling under her.
    ‘So … have we any suggestions for a class after school? And let’s learn something useful at the same time.’
    ‘Ballroom dancing?’ There was a collective groan, and the suggester of that one almost went flying off the bench too.
    ‘Sword fencing?’
    ‘In this school!’ Mr Percy boomed again. ‘You lot would have wiped out each other within the week.’
    ‘Sir … sir …’ Katie struggled to get the words out.
    He turned. ‘Did you say something, Cassidy?’
    ‘Sel … l … l …’
    ‘Out with it, girl.’
    Couldn’t he see she was trying? She might die first.
    ‘Self-defence classes, sir.’
    Then she fell in a heap on the floor. If he wanted her to finish this final lap, he’d have to carry her round himself.
    Mr Percy stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Mmm, interesting idea. Any particular reason why you suggested that one, Cassidy?’
    ‘I think if we learned to defend ourselves –’ she took another deep breath ‘– we’d be able to take care of ourselves more …’
    ‘Defend yourself? Against what?’
    ‘There are such things as bullies, sir.’
    There was a murmur of approval and agreement. Mr Percy glanced at them. ‘The rest of you agree?’
    ‘It’s a great idea, sir.’
    ‘Aye. Self-defence. Brilliant.’
    ‘Can you teach us that, sir?’
    ‘But who’s to say the bullies won’t take up the selfdefence classes too?’ was Mr Percy’s next question.
    ‘Because that’s not how they fight,’ Katie answered at once. ‘But if they come, well, let them. At least they won’t be able to pick on us if we can take care of ourselves.’
    ‘That’s actually a rather sensible suggestion, Cassidy.’ He sounded slightly astonished, as if a sensible suggestion was the last thing he would have expected from her.
    The rest of the class once again murmured their approval.
    ‘Let me see what I can organize,’ Mr Percy told them as he dismissed them from class.
    Katie sat in her bedroom, trying to concentrate on her history project. All she could think of was Zan.
    ‘Is Mr Whittaker still here?’ She had asked her father at teatime. They were still not on the best of terms. Something hung between them. That something wasZan, and the lies she was telling to protect her.
    ‘He’s still here,’ he had answered.
    ‘He must be leaving soon, though. If he’s not able to find this … mysterious girl … what’s the point of him staying?’
    ‘He won’t give up so easily, Katie.’ He was trying to make her understand. ‘His clients … this girl’s parents … are desperate to find their child.