Free Betsey Biggalow Is Here! by Malorie Blackman Page B

and paddle. Never mind our trainers. Let’s walk along in our bare feet.”
    “Yeah! It’s much nicer walking on the sand in bare feet anyway,” May agreed.
    And May and Betsey ran over the white sand and through the blue water, their trainers knotted at the laces and dangling around their necks.

Betsey Biggalow Is Here!
    Betsey Biggalow had another of her bright and shiny ideas! Today would be her HELP THE WORLD day! The question was, who should she help first? She ran into the living room. Sherena was sitting at the table, books, books and more books spread out in front of her.
    “Have no fear! Betsey Biggalow is here!” said Betsey proudly.
    “Not now, Betsey. Can’t you see I’m busy?” said Sherena.
    Betsey walked across to peer over her sister’s shoulder.
    “What are you doing?”
    Sherena looked up, annoyed. “I’m trying,
trying
to revise for my maths test on Monday.”
    “I’ll help you,” Betsey insisted.
    “You can help me by disappearing,” Sherena said crossly. “Go on! Vanish! Depart! Leave! Go away!”
    “All right. You don’t have to go on,” said Betsey. “If you don’t need my help, I’ll go and find someone who does.”
    “You do that!” said Sherena, burying her head back in the book in front of her.
    Betsey ran out into the backyard to see her brother. Desmond was feeding the chickens which clucked and pecked and pecked and clucked.
    “Have no fear! Betsey Biggalow is here!” said Betsey. “I’ve come to help.”
    “I don’t need the help of a shrimp like you,” Desmond scoffed. “Besides, how come you wait till I’ve almost finished, before coming to help me?”

    “Well, I’m here now,” said Betsey. Helping the world was turning out to be more difficult than she’d ever imagined.
    “Betsey Biggalow, what are you up to?” Gran’ma Liz came out into the yard. “If you’re seeking useful employment, I can soon find a hundred and one things for you to do.”
    Betsey shuddered. She was looking for one interesting something to do – not a hundred and one boring things!
    “No thanks, Gran’ma Liz,” said Betsey. “I was just about to go and see my friend May.”
    “Hhmm!” said Gran’ma Liz. “Well, just make sure you’re back before supper.”
    Betsey didn’t need to be told twice. It was time to scarper before Gran’ma Liz decided that her one hundred and one things should come before a visit to May.
    So off Betsey went, down the track, along the road, to May’s house. The evening sun was still hot, hot, hot and the sugar cane in the fields on either side of the road cast long, evening shadows.
    “Botheration! So much for ‘Have no fear, Betsey Biggalow is here!’” Betsey muttered with disgust.
    And so much for helping the world. You just couldn’t help the world when it didn’t want your help! Betsey was so deep in thought that she almost didn’t hear it. She stopped and frowned and looked around. Then it came again.
    “Help . . . oh, please help me . . .”
    Frightened, Betsey looked around. “Who’s that? Who’s there?”
    “Over here . . .” the faint voice said.
    Slowly, oh so slowly and oh so carefully, Betsey crept over towards the voice. Then she saw him. There, lying in a ditch by the side of the road, was a man with a moustache. He was lying half on his side, half on his back. And there, on top of his left leg, was a motorbike.

    “I . . . I think I’ve broken my leg,” the man whispered. Betsey could see the perspiration all over his cheeks and his chin. His wet face glistened in the evening sunshine. His shirt was damp and sticking to him just as closely as Gran’ma Liz’s Sunday hat stuck to her head.
    “Wait . . . wait there. I’ll go and get my gran’ma,” Betsey said. “I’ll be right back.”
    “What’s your . . . your name . . .” asked the man.
    “Betsey. Betsey Biggalow.”
    “Hurry, Betsey . . .” the man gasped, before his eyes closed and his head nodded down towards the