Free Magenta McPhee by Catherine Bateson Page B

relevant.’
    â€˜Sausages?’
    â€˜Fundraising.’
    â€˜Well, that’s good, Dad. I mean it’s terrific that you’re involved.’ I was delighted. It would be another topic of conversation with old Spooky. She’d be just the kind of person who would find that awesome, not just lame.
    It started to rain almost as soon as we got in the car.
    â€˜Good thing the sizzle’s under shelter,’ Dad said, checking out the grey clouds, ‘and it might clearup, too – look at the horizon. What time is your cross-country?’
    â€˜About ten, I think. The buses leave school almost as soon as we get there.’
    â€˜Well, good luck, break a leg – not!’ Dad kissed me goodbye. He was almost too cheerful.
    Polly was happy too. She kept looking at the sky and counting the grey clouds. She was wearing a raincoat even though it was just spitting. ‘Look at that,’ she hissed at me, ‘just look at it!’
    â€˜Clouds, Polly, just clouds.’
    â€˜My clouds,’ Polly said, ‘that’s the difference. I conjured these up with a spell.’
    â€˜You what?’
    She nodded. ‘I’m getting better, aren’t I?’ She said it so smugly I wanted the sun to break through the clouds and shine right into her eyes. But it didn’t. Instead the rain got a bit heavier and everyone in the bus queue started to complain.
    â€˜We’re not going to have to run in this?’
    â€˜My runners will get soaked and Mum’ll kill me.’
    â€˜So? Mine are suede.’
    â€˜Ms Olley, we don’t have to run if it rains, do we?’
    â€˜Call this rain?’ Ms Olley smiled in a way that meant she wasn’t at all amused. ‘This is just a mere pitter. Children these days. Wimps.’
    It rained the entire bus trip. It rained as the teachersput up the first-aid tent. The Red House crepe ribbons ran in the rain and left streaks of pink across faces, arms and white t-shirts, and dripped all the way down Ms Mann’s lace blouse. She kept looking down at the drips and trying to rub them off.
    â€˜I can’t run in the rain,’ Polly approached Ms Mann, ‘I’m getting a cold and Jane expressly said that if it even looked like rain, I should just sit in the first-aid tent. She would have kept me home, but she’s doing cupcakes today for some celebrity thing and Marcus was busy finding his muse.’
    â€˜I’m afraid,’ Ms Mann glared down at another pink drop and at Polly, ‘that the first-aid tent is usually too full by the end of this run for us to take in onlookers. Anyway, I believe the rain’s clearing – look!’
    Sure enough, the blue patches now outnumbered the grey clouds and they seemed to be skittering away behind us. Polly frowned and I could see her lips move frantically.
    â€˜Get in line then,’ Ms Mann fluttered her hands at us, ‘quickly.’
    Almost as soon as the starting pistol went the sun came out, as though it was blessing our run. The rain made the bush smell like lemon and eucalyptus and wet sand. Polly settled into a grumpy walk but I stretched out my legs and ran for a while. The sandy track was good to run on – not as springy as grass but not thuddylike the pavement. I kept running – even when my legs felt wobbly. I ran through that feeling and found my rhythm again. I didn’t care about winning. I was just enjoying it – it felt as though someone had let me loose after days sitting at a desk.
    â€˜Well done, Magenta McPhee!’ Mr. Green gave me my raffle ticket. ‘This must be a personal best for you. You’d better go and get your ribbon. Third place!’
    Blue House kids I hardly knew slapped my back. I couldn’t believe it – third place! I didn’t think of myself as being one of the sport jocks. Well, I wasn’t. I was a fantasy writer. But maybe I could run, too. It felt good.
    About ten minutes later