Buried Alive! by Jacqueline Wilson Page A

get him and then have to climb back all over the rocks, it’ll take forever. Let’s just slip down to the beach and claim it – and
then
we’ll go back and make friends with him if we must, OK?’
    â€˜OK,’ I said.
    â€˜Great,’ said Kelly. She was immediately off like a mountain goat down the other side of the rocks to the perfect private beach.
    â€˜Kelly,
wait
. I can’t go as fast. And it’s all difficult and slippery. Suppose we can’t get back up?’
    â€˜Of course we’ll be able to,’ Kelly said, leaping a long way down.
    She landed lightly on a flat rock, but it wasn’t wedged securely. It wobbled. Kelly wobbled too, but leapt again before she fell. She landed on another lower rock, safely – but only just.
    â€˜Kelly! Do be careful. If you slip and break your leg how could I possibly carry you all the way back?’ I protested.
    â€˜You’re such a worryguts, Tim. I’m not
going
to slip,’ Kelly shouted.
    She leapt.
    She landed.
    She slipped – and fell.
    I screamed.
    She grabbed another rock, hung there, stretched one leg to another rock, steadied herself, edged downwards, and stood properly on her two tough feet.
    â€˜Kelly! Are you OK?’
    â€˜I’m fine.’
    â€˜I thought you were going to fall all the way down.’
    â€˜I didn’t fall at all. I slid that bit on purpose,’ Kelly insisted.
    But when we both got down to the soft sand I saw a great gash on Kelly’s leg.
    â€˜You’re bleeding!’
    â€˜It’s nothing,’ said Kelly, dabbing her leg impatiently. ‘Hey, isn’t this beach fantastic? Aren’t you pleased I discovered it for you?’
    â€˜It’s a deep cut, Kelly. You must clean it.’
    â€˜Oh Tim, stop fussing. I’m always getting cuts. They’re usually far far worse than that. I climbed over a wall with all this broken glass stuck on top once. Look!’ Kelly lifted her T-shirt and showed a zig-zag scar across her tummy.
    â€˜Gosh!’ I said, very impressed.
    â€˜I used to kid the guys in my class it was like a zip and I could shove my hand straight into my stomach.’
    â€˜You couldn’t, could you?’
    â€˜No!’
    â€˜Well anyway, you ought to go paddling. The sea’s salty. It’s very healing. My dad had a boil on his bottom once, and he sat in a basin of salty water.’
    Kelly snorted with laughter. So did I. We laughed so much we nearly fell over on the sand.
    â€˜What a place to have a boil!’ said Kelly. ‘OK, OK. I’ll paddle, just to keep you happy.’
    We both paddled. Kelly winced a bit as the water washed over her leg but she didn’t complain.
    â€˜You’re ever so brave, Kelly,’ I said.
    Kelly beamed at me. A wave splashed high and she jumped to stop her shorts getting wet. Soon we were both holding hands and jumping every wave. We got wet after all but it didn’t really matter. Little droplets of water on my eyelashes made me see rainbows everywhere.
    â€˜This is our beach, right? We’re the only ones who can come here,’ said Kelly. ‘Let’s stake it out as
ours
.’
    She searched the sands until she found a big stick. She went near the water’s edge where the sand was firm and wrote a message in spiky capital letters.
    KELLY-AND-TIM BEACH. PRIVATE. KEEP OUT.
    Then she bent over and started drawing a big heart. Well, it was meant to be a heart but it went a bit wobbly and lop-sided. She wrote K L T inside.
    â€˜What’s it say?’ I said. ‘Klut? Klot?’
    â€˜You’re the clot,’ said Kelly, pink from bending over. ‘It says Kelly Loves Tim. Right?’
    â€˜Oh. Right,’ I said.
    â€˜
Well?
’ said Kelly. She held out the stick.
    Obediently I drew my own heart and put T L K inside.
    â€˜Right!’ said Kelly. She came up very close. ‘Shut your eyes!’ she commanded.
    I did as I