Bad Dreams by Anne Fine Page B

can’t talk under water. You lose your air in one large, glistening flood of bubbles. But if I could, I would have said it over again to Imogen’s horrible necklace.

    â€˜Don’t think you’re going to beat me . Because you won’t !’
    Instead, I put my energy into one last enormous pull through the water. Clutching the chain, I swam down through the blizzard of angry bubbles till there, at last, I saw the drain.
    And slammed my hand down flat. I didn’t trust the necklace not to wriggle off. I rubbed the links of it over the grille till suddenly I felt the coils vanishing beneath my fingers as it went down. Now, under the flat of my palm, I could feel nothing but the clasp, a hard metallic lump still stubbornly clinging to the grille edge. And that’s when I had to make the worst decision of my life.

    â€˜Come on!’ I tried to tell myself. ‘That’s it. You’ve done it. Swim back up, quick. There’s still a chance. You could still do it. You could still win the Harries Cup.’
    But that old clasp was hanging on. And I knew why. Oh, I’d swim off, thinking I’d done the job and Imogen was safe. But the necklace would beat me. The clasp would cling on to the grille till evening session – Intermediate Diving. One after another for an hour, Miss Pollard’s pupils would be plunging down. Someone was bound to spot it. I could hear them now.
    â€˜Miss Pollard! Miss Pollard! Look what I’ve found trapped in the drain. It must belong to someone in the gala.’
    She’d reach down to take it. ‘It looks quite valuable. I’d better drop it by the school tomorrow.’
    No need to guess the rest. By break time, it would be back round Imogen’s neck, strangling her life.
    Professor Blackstaffe would have put it plainly enough.
    To do something seriously important for a friend, you have to make a sacrifice.
    Do you:
    A:Do it?
    B:Kid yourself your thing matters just as much?
    Acup’s a cup. It might be made to matter in a book. But it’s not serious. Not like real life.
    So I just did it – used up my very last spare second or two prising that hateful, stubborn little clasp off the drain grille, and pushing it through. I’d run out of air. My lungs were on fire. But I still stayed to watch it sink – down, down, resentfully, till it was out of sight.

    And then, at last, I let myself push away, up like an arrow. Breaking the surface, I took the very deepest breath, and stormed off after the others. I don’t think I’ve ever in my life swum any faster. I pounded along, meeting the others coming back the other way for their third and last length.
    I turned just as Surina reached the half-way mark. It was a brilliant tumble – fast and strong. I knew at least Miss Rorty would be pleased to see I hadn’t let her training down in front of everyone. It was my best turn ever.
    I slid through the water like a needle through silk. First I saw Surina’s toes, and then her knees, and then, since she was tiring, with one last great heave, I spun ahead. I took my next breath on the other side, to check the enemy. And, to my surprise, saw I’d left the other twin behind as well, and one more pull would bring me up to Toby.
    I’m a machine in water when I’m pounding hard. Miss Rorty says it’s like watching pistons in the engine of a great ship, or valves in a power station. I pulled on and on. And if the Harries Cup had only been a race one metre longer, there is not a shred of doubt I would have won it.
    As it was, I lost.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
    T hey were all there for me, I’ll give them that. Miss Rorty wrapped a towel round me so fast that only she and I knew when she pressed the corner of it to my face, she wasn’t blotting my hair at all, only stemming my tears of rage and frustration.
    Toby didn’t crow. All he said was, ‘Jeez, that was close! Just two more seconds, Mel, and