Free Betsey Biggalow Is Here! by Malorie Blackman

The Special, Special Trainers!
    Betsey peered in through the shoe shop window. There they were! Her special trainers. Her magic trainers. With those trainers she wouldn’t just run, she’d
fly
! No one would be able to catch her in those extra special,
special
trainers.
    “Betsey, come away from that window.” Gran’ma Liz frowned.
    “Oh, Gran’ma Liz. Look! The trainers I was telling you about – they’re still there!” Betsey pointed.

    “They’re going to stay there too!” Gran’ma Liz said. “Come on.”
    “But I need a new pair of trainers,” said Betsey. “Mine are worn to nothing now.”
    “I don’t know how you can get through the soles of your shoes so fast.” Gran’ma Liz tutted. “You must be eating them!”
    “Gran’ma Liz, just look at these trainers. Look at the colours. Look at the laces. Look at the . . .”
    “Look at the time!” Gran’ma Liz glanced down at her watch. “Come on, Betsey, or we’ll miss our bus.”
    “But Gran’ma Liz . . .”
    “Betsey, for the last time, I’m not buying you those trainers. For weeks now, all your mum and I have heard from you is trainers this and trainers that!”

    “But Gran’ma Liz, my best friend May has a pair of those trainers,” Betsey said eagerly, “and you should see her when she runs. She doesn’t run, she soars and swoops – just like a bird or a plane.”
    “Betsey, you talk some real nonsense sometimes,” said Gran’ma Liz. “Come on, child.”
    So Betsey had to leave the front of the shoe shop. She crossed her fingers tight, tight, tight.
    “I want those trainers something fierce,” Betsey muttered to herself.
    “What did you say, Betsey?” asked Gran’ma Liz.
    “Nothing, Gran’ma,” said Betsey.
    “Hhmm!” said Gran’ma. And without another word, off they went home.
    But on the way home, Betsey had an idea . . .
    At dinner time, the family sat around the table — there was Gran’ma Liz, Mum, Betsey’s bigger sister, Sherena, and Betsey’s bigger brother, Desmond. For dinner there was cou-cou and flying fish and salad and a huge jug of delicious mango punch with plenty of ice. Betsey licked her lips. Scrumptious!
    “Pass the salt please, Betsey,” said Sherena.
    Betsey picked up the glass salt shaker. “The tops of the trainers I want are just as white as this salt,” said Betsey.

    She pointed to the pepper bottle.
    “And the soles of the trainers I want are blacker than the writing on the pepper bottle.” Sherena and Desmond looked at each other.
    “Betsey, I don’t want to hear anymore about those trainers. D’you hear?” Gran’ma Liz frowned.
    “Yes, Gran’ma,” Betsey said.
    Betsey poured herself a glass of mango punch, but some spilt onto the sky-blue tablecloth. The yellow-orange liquid spread out.

    “Betsey!” said Gran’ma Liz. “Look at that mess.”
    “That stain is just about the size of the trainers I want,” Betsey murmured.
    Gran’ma Liz could stand it no longer.
    “Elizabeth Ruby Biggalow, all day, all week, all
month
, you’ve done nothing but mope and whine about those trainers.” Gran’ma Liz frowned. “Your long face is spoiling my day as well as my dinner. Now not another word.”
    And Betsey knew then that she’d better shut up. Whenever Gran’ma Liz called her by her whole, full name, Betsey knew she was treading dangerously close to trouble.
    But for the rest of the evening, all Betsey had in her head were her special trainers. She even fell asleep dreaming of soaring and flying, her special trainers on her feet.
    The next morning, when Betsey went down for breakfast, everyone was unusually quiet.
    “What’s the matter?” asked Betsey.
    “I’ve got something for you.” Mum smiled. “As your old trainers are in such a state, I decided to get you some new ones.”
    “You bought the trainers!” Betsey couldn’t believe it.
    “Now perhaps we can all get some peace,” Gran’ma Liz sniffed.
    Betsey grinned and grinned. Her extra special