Free The Gravesavers by Sheree Fitch Page B

beneath my covers. Phew! She was still in her room, coughing and piddling and making other noises so loud, no way could she have heard me.
    I tucked the baby’s skull beneath my other pillow. I tossed and turned. Finally, I drifted off. I wouldn’t call it sleep exactly. And as for peaceful?
    The reading fuelled my O.I. Not the first time, I have to admit, and the reason I have the only parents in the world who do not encourage bedtime reading.
Alice in Wonderland
gave me night horrors. So did the wicked witch in the Disney version of
Sleeping Beauty.
I was only allowed peaceful bedtime stories.
    The nightmare started out pretty cozy. I was in a small house with Dory and Corporal Ray. We weregoing on a trip. Corporal Ray was yodelling up a storm. Next thing I knew we were on the deck of a ship. A sinking ship. And I was sliding off. I watched my mother and father swallowed by a wave. I went underwater and grabbed a piece of wood. I came up sputtering for air, rocking on top of the waves. I was cold. Bone cold.
    I woke up shivering. I’d seen the movie
Titanic
one too many times. It was one of Carolina’s favourites and she was crazy over Leonardo DiCaprio. She shared my mother’s worship of celebrities. I thought instead of the Swiss Family Robinson. I’d float to an island and survive like they did. This made me think of snakes, however. So I closed my eyes and tried to think happy thoughts. My mother encouraged me to do this when I was overly agitated, as she put it.
    A picture of Gavin filled the screen inside my head. Not happy thoughts exactly, and not very calming either. My heart popped three wheelies in a row.

— RIGBYISMS —
    Next morning, all thoughts of shipwrecks and Gavin were swept away like bits of dirt under a carpet.
    A letter from Coach Rigby arrived. It was my daily training schedule for the next five weeks along with his special brand of coaching from the sidelines.
    Dear Twinkletoes:
    Thought I’d give you a day or two off before I hit you with THE PROGRAM. It’s no doubt going to be tough to muster up the self-discipline that training by yourself requires. So along with the schedule, I’ve included some words of advice and creative visualization exercises. Remember, the mental aspect of training is what sometimes makes the difference between winners and losers. Attitude! The right attitude can get you over the hurdles ahead—no pun intended—Ha! Ha! So, I know you can do it! Paste my Rigbyism of the week on yourmirror or the foot of your bed. Before you get up in the morning and last thing at night I’d like you to faithfully do these exercises like I know you will tackle the rest of your physical regimen.
    I’ll call in a week or so. I’ve enclosed a training diary for your convenience.
    Coach Rigby
    My first week’s training schedule looked fair enough. It was in a small black three-ring binder, and every day I had to fill out what I did, when, what the weather was like and what I felt like after I’d done it. On a scale of one to ten.
    His Rigbyism was another matter.
    Like the postal worker who delivers the mail through rain snow sleet or hail, so must the committed athlete endure all kinds of weather conditions—of climate and mind—your internal weather system, in order to deliver a most important message to yourself: I AM A WINNER! Picture yourself bursting through the finish line, coming first, the crowd cheering you to victory. See it, hear it, smell it, taste it, feel it. Rain or shine—get out there and train for the win!
    I tried. I really tried. But when I closed my eyes all I saw was a movie of disaster. There I was, all dressed up like a letter carrier, in the baggiest uniform you ever saw, staggering up the track in lane number five. Oh, I was trying my best, but the mail bag bumped against my knees, tangled me up and felt like a hunk of cement chained to my neck. On top of that, I was running in a blizzard. With every in breath, I swallowed snow. By the time I