CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Orphan’s Marble
Fabricated from beer barrels, planks of wood and just plain hard graft, Rachel and Sophronia weaved their way to the front of the stage.
Taking centre stage, Mrs Rose Dandelion waited for the crowd to calm down. Running up the steps and onto the stage, Mary caught her breath and stood to Rose’s right, and to her left, stood a young woman with blond hair tied up into a tight bun; she looked very nervous and brushed the invisible creases out of her striped hospital nursing dress.
Rose coughed, and the crowd fell silent. She tapped her microphone and cleared her throat. ‘May I welcome you all to Bellingtons’ autumnal sports day,’ she said and held her arms out wide and flapped her hands so fast it was if she wanted to take off. The crowd whooped and cheered back at her enthusiastic welcome. ‘Our sports day will not have the full complement of activities which we enjoyed this summer. However, the challenges you’ll face today will be tougher than ever.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ Sophronia whispered in Rachel’s ear. ‘A couple of pupils are still recovering from last summer’s Egg and Spoon race.’
Rose continued. ‘Regrettably, the teachers’ race has been cancelled, as Matron Crowling is busy dealing with a serious medical emergency. I must remind pupils that the old Greenhouses are still off-limits. We have, however, Sister Wiggly, who’s recently joined our medical staff from Gravelings, therefore, I would be grateful if pupils would refrain from seriously injuring themselves this afternoon, as it’s Peggy’s first day on the job, and we wouldn’t want to give her the wrong impression that Bellingtons’ sports day is the slightest bit dangerous.’
Peggy stepped forward and gave the crowd a timid wave as they sounded out their approval, but she quickly stepped out of the limelight.
‘I would also like to thank Mary Plodding here for her tireless energy in helping myself and the other members of staff,’ said Rose with high praise. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
The crowd clapped, and Mary gave them a subtle smile in return.
A veil of sadness fell across Rose’s face. ‘I speak with a heavy heart with the news that our Head Boy and Girl have stepped down from their school duties,’ she told the hushed crowd and paused for thought.
‘They stepped down all right,’ muttered an elderly woman to Rachel’s right. ‘They both fell in love and eloped.’
‘Their contribution to Bellingtons was incalculable,’ continued Rose, almost in tears. ‘The school governors have recently appointed a new Head Boy and Girl, so would you please put your hands together and give Alice Winterbright and George Browning a warm welcome to the stage.’
Rachel cheered with the rest of the crowd; her hands went sky high as George and Alice walked onto the stage with big grins. Rose clapped, but Rachel felt her face hid an uncertainty as she shook their hands.
Rose stepped towards the flowery tape and motioned the crowd for silence. ‘It is almost eleven years since Bellingtons opened its doors to those children whose families needed a school who understood their problems,’ she told them tenaciously. ‘It is a testament to the man that made this school possible, and I’d like you to make him feel as welcome as he did to all those pupils he wanted to help so long ago. So, please give our beloved benefactor, Professor Thomas Shire, a very warm welcome.’
With his familiar trilby hat perched on top of his head, Thomas burst onto the stage with his overcoat billowing in the breeze.
Rachel went deaf as the crowd sounded out their approval once more.
Peggy came nimbly out of the shadows and gave Thomas a bouquet of flowers, which he humbly accepted and gave her a peck on the cheek.
Pupils giggled as she blushed from embarrassment.
Thomas handed the flowers to Mary in exchange for a pair of scissors. Brimming with overconfidence, he strutted up to the microphone; with his hands on his hips, he waited patiently for the crowd to calm down.
(Rachel had to hand it to Ian, as even she was convinced that Thomas Shire stood before her with an oversized pair of scissors in his hands.)
‘It is a privilege and an honour to stand before you today,’ Thomas regaled to the crowd that seem to hang on his every word. ‘I am gratified that Bellingtons is a beacon – dare I say a warning – to other schools that no child should be lost to education.
Bellingtons demand its pupils step up and overcome the diverse challenges laid down in its curriculum. Today’s sporting challenges are an important part of that curriculum. We will test your resolve as well as your strengths and weaknesses, and make no mistake – a weakness is just a strength waiting in the wings.’
As the crowd digested Thomas’ speech, Rose’s eyes welled up with emotion, and she burst into applause. The crowd joined in, and someone shouted, ‘THREE CHEERS FOR PROFESSOR SHIRE!’
Thomas bowed to the crowd, and as they cheered him, he cut the tape with his scissors and bellowed, ‘BELLINGTONS’ SPORTS DAY IS NOW OFFICIALLY OPEN – AND THE BEST OF LUCK TO ALL OF YOU.’
✽✽✽
Rachel stared longingly at the chalkboard sign, and her dry tongue licked her parched lips in anticipation. With the offer of free drinks, she ignored Sophronia’s protestations and dragged her hastily inside the white tent. The opening ceremony had made her thirsty, and she hadn’t clapped and cheered so much since Judy Silverback made Head Girl at Plums.
Sophronia introduced Rachel to Pauline Marsh; Rachel knew her sister Jenny, who still went to Plums. Pauline gave them the overly bright drinks list to peruse and went to serve her next customer:
Bellingtons’ Drinks Menu
Welcome to our new autumn menu. We pride ourselves on sourcing local plants. Please note that if you were unfortunate enough to have even the slightest allergic reaction to any of our organic drinks, then would you please inform Matron Crowling at your earliest convenience.
Caution: all drink consumption taken at your own risk
Today’s Special
Gimballed Jellyfish Juice with lashings of Smoked Seaweed
Purified Bellingtons’ Tap Water
Charred Pumpkin Rinds in Ginger Ale
Crushed Burdock Root in Seasoned Nettle Tea
Dandelion Potpourri Scattered in Pineapple Juice
Organic Sprout Puree infused with Starfish Fingers
Please note that each drink comes with an edible paper doily
Donations always welcome
‘Pauline’s got an unusual selection of drinks to choose from,’ Rachel told Sophronia as the insides of her leathery mouth waited patiently for her to decide. ‘Maybe I should take a wild guess,’ she added blithely.
‘Well, that would be taking your life in your hands,’ said Sophronia surreptitiously, lowering her voice so Pauline couldn’t hear her. ‘Pauline likes to experiment with her drinks – and we’re her gullible guinea pigs.’
‘Oh, there you are,’ said a worried voice by the doorway.
Rachel peered over the top of the drink’s menu.
George rushed into the tent with Alice following closely behind. With a furtive glance, George told Alice, ‘That was a close call – but I think we’ve managed to lose them.’
‘Who are you hiding from?’ asked Rachel, a little perturbed.
Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, apparently George has a fan club of impressionable young schoolgirls,’ she told Rachel with an ill-tempered huff. ‘Bellingtons’ schoolgirls are smitten with their new Head Boy – and I think his newfound fame has a lot to do with it.’
Rachel noticed Sophronia staring at the pair of them. ‘Oh, where are my manners,’ she grinned wildly. ‘Sophronia – I’d like you to meet my friends, George and Alice – and don’t be shy, they really are quite normal when you get to know them.’
With a firm handshake, Sophronia said, ‘I’ve just been made Prefect – so it looks like I report to you two now.’
‘I’m new to all this stuff,’ George informed her, ‘so any tips about being Head Boy would be greatly appreciated.’
Just don’t fall in love, Rachel thought.
‘I’ll make you up a list, George,’ Sophronia chuckled.
‘Alice told me she was Gravelings’ Head Girl, so she’s had plenty of experience bossing pupils about,’ George quipped, but Alice ignored him.
Pauline rushed up to them with a pen and notepad. ‘Now, are we ready to order?’ she puffed, catching her breath.
‘I’ll take a Ginger Ale without the Charred Pumpkin Rinds,’ said Sophronia firmly. ‘I can still taste those pumpkin rinds from last week, and it feels like I’m burping up lumps of coal.’
Rachel gave the drinks menu to Alice, who appeared surprised as she handed the menu into George’s eager hands.
‘I’ll take some Purified Bellingtons’ Tap Water,’ Rachel insisted, much to Pauline’s disappointment.
Alice stared daggers at Pauline. ‘So, I see you’re Captain Eddie’s secret supplier of exotic squashes?’ she told her straight.
Pauline’s face flushed. ‘Er, yes – but please don’t tell Mrs Dandelion,’ she trembled with eyes welling up with worry. ‘Eddie pays me a pittance, and we have to count the pennies since my father lost his job at the bank.’
‘Mum’s the word,’ replied Alice with a reassuring smile.
The tent flaps moved aside. George flung himself down behind Alice, but he breathed a sigh of relief as Sister Wiggly came inside, pushing a man in a creaky squeaky wheelchair.
‘OK, Mr Clarke, we need you out of this chair,’ Peggy told the elderly gentleman, grabbed his arm and slowly pulled him out of his wheelchair. ‘This way – just a little bit further – you can do it,’ she added cajolingly.
Sophronia rushed over and gently took his other arm. ‘Where’s Mr Clarke sitting,’ she asked Peggy.
Pauline pushed a couple of tables to make space and patted a chair. ‘Mr Clarke can sit down here. Now, I’ll go and get his treatment,’ she said hurriedly and bustled out of the tent at full speed.
Rachel felt sorry for Mr Clarke, who looked as if he was about to peg out. His eyes were bloodshot, and translucent mucus seeped out of his blackened eyelids. Rough pieces of linen dangled down from his nostrils, and his ruddy bulbous nose looked ready to explode. Nasty scratches covered most of his face (and it looked as if he’d picked a fight with a bramble bush). However, what really caught her eye were his pointy ears and the copious amounts of fine black hairs that grew out of them.
With a sweaty brow, Pauline pushed the trolley into the tent. ‘I’ve marinade the bees’ nest overnight just like you told me,’ she told Peggy.
‘Now, you’re absolutely sure you put them outside at twilight?’ Peggy replied. ‘Mr Grubbins was most adamant about the time.’
(Rachel’s ears twitched. Was this the same Grubbins etched on the crystal her granny had given to Bill Bumble as a wedding present, she thought.)
‘I used two alarms just to make sure,’ said Pauline unequivocally.
‘Now, if I understand his condition correctly, Mrs Dandelion said it’s Mr Grubbins’ fault that Mr Clarke caught the flu in the first place,’ griped Peggy exasperatedly. ‘Something about his mangy, flea-ridden, bad-tempered, ungrateful feline companion – or words to that effect.’
‘Mr Grubbins only took the cat in because nobody wanted the fiery kitten, and it was going to be put down,’ Pauline told her with a heavy heart. ‘You know he lives in the Inklings – and even he’s surprised his tomcat managed to roamed that far away from home.’
‘What’s done is done. I only hope Mr Grubbins’ medicine can help poor Mr Clarke here,’ Peggy postulated, patting his sagging shoulder. ‘Mind you, I’ve never heard of anyone contracting cat flu before!’
Mr Clarke suddenly scrunched up his nose – and let out a raging sneeze. His soggy linen plugholes flew out of his nostrils at speed, spinning through the air, dragging a trail of greenish snot with them; however, they finally splattered on something soft – much to the horror of George and Alice’s congealed faces.
Rachel ducked again as Brian sneezed up another storm of snot.
Caught in the firing line once more, the tightly packed wooden tables and chairs dripped with smelly green goo. Brian looked quite relieved as his nostrils breathed in the aroma from Pauline’s sickly-sweet potion.
✽✽✽
Rachel took another swig from Pauline’s bottled water and sucked in the saltiness of the onshore breeze. In a mad panic, Peggy and Pauline had ushered Rachel and Sophronia outside with the rest of the customers. Quarantined until further notice, George and Alice had to stay inside the tent until Peggy could find a way to inoculate them. Pauline’s stocky chalkboard sign now barred the tent’s main entrance and said:
MEDICAL EMERGENCY: ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE!
Rachel nibbled on her edible doily and took in the sports day hullabaloo. Sophronia, however, ignored the nattering noises of parents and their bellowing broods as she read the sports day’s itinerary.
It hadn’t taken long for Rachel to feel the pangs of boredom creeping through her bones ‘Anything of interest in there?’ she asked Sophronia.
‘Well, if you want to be humiliated or your bones crushed to a pulp, there’s plenty to choose from,’ she replied mawkishly.
‘Let me take a look,’ Rachel asked.
Sophronia’s eyes oozed caution as she handed over the dog-eared itinerary. ‘D’you know what – I really fancy something cold right now,’ she said longingly. ‘Rosy and Ronny Bramble have been rushed off their feet all morning – and it looks like their lollies will sell out soon.’
Rachel gave the Bramble’s stall a cursory look. With the magnetic letters falling off in the rising heat, their homemade metal sign said:
WILE SOCKS LAST, BY ONE LOLIPOP AND GET ONE FEE
‘OK, I’ll take anything that doesn’t have raspberries in it,’ she told her.
Sophronia grinned and sped towards the back of the queue, narrowly avoiding bumping into Hester and Abigail, who wore nasty, snarling faces beneath their protective headgear. Chipped mouth guards, battered shin and wrist guards, grass-stained elbow pads, rugby boots with dented hockey sticks completed the girls’ menacing appearance.
Rachel began working her way down the itinerary, but about halfway down the list, a slight shadow fell across her shoes. Looking lost, a petite young girl, in an oversized school uniform, smiled shyly up at her.
The girl’s dewy brown eyes took on a downtrodden demeanour as she said in a sugary-sweet voice, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you – but I can’t seem to find anyone who’ll play a game of marbles with me.’
Rachel felt sorry for the girl who seemed far too young to be going to Bellingtons. ‘Um, shouldn’t you be getting back to your parents?’ she asked her. ‘They’re probably getting worried wondering where you are.’
Rachel’s eyes continued to dart here, there and everywhere as she sought anyone who appeared to be missing their wandering offspring.
‘My parents aren’t worried about me anymore because they’re dead – and now I’m an orphan,’ she sniffed, her eyes welling up. ‘My two sisters are orphans as well. We’re all orphans, and nobody wants to play marbles with us,’ she added, dropped her marble and burst into tears.
Rachel bent down and snatched up her marble. ‘Don’t cry – I’ll come and play with you and your sisters,’ she said to the girl, who perked up no end as she used a grubby white handkerchief to dry her moist eyes.
‘D’you have a friend who could come and play, too?’ the girl added, her slim hands clasped in hope. ‘That would make us orphans so happy.’
‘Why, yes – she’s just getting me a lollipop –’ Rachel began, but the girl forced a crinkled sheet of paper and well-chewed pen into her hand.
‘If you wouldn’t mind – but would you sign my paper with both your names,’ the girl asked. ‘It will show my sisters that someone really cares about us orphans,’ she added with pitiful eyes and puffy flushed cheeks.
Rachel smiled and signed her form.
The girl suddenly snatched the paper and pen from out of her hands and, without another word, she sped along the footpath, leaving her iridescent marble behind and disappeared into the throng of the crowd.
‘Hiya, Rachel,’ said a familiar voice from over her shoulder.
Still bemused by the orphan’s swift departure, she returned Stewart’s smile as Alfred, William and Sophronia followed closely behind.
‘Rachel, I do believe these three boys are friends of yours?’ Sophronia chuckled, holding out a strangely shaped lollipop. ‘Sorry, but these were the only ones they had left – it’s their new range of Halloween lollies.’
‘What are you lot doing here?’ Rachel asked, eyeing the wobbly grey lollipop with suspicion as she grabbed its spine-like wooden stick.
‘We always come to Bellingtons’ sports day,’ Stewart told her, licking his fang-shaped lollipop, ‘even if we do have to bunk off French.’
‘We wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ added Alfred smiling, sucking on his mouldy toenail lollipop that made Rachel’s nose turn up in disgust.
‘But what we’ve really come to see is the famed Marbles match,’ said William gleefully. ‘Bellingtons’ girls are the roughest and toughest in the country,’ he added approvingly and bit into his squelchy eyeball lollipop.
Rachel’s brain lollipop melted as she took in William’s dire news. ‘M-Marbles m-match you say,’ she stuttered, doing her utmost to ignore the pangs of self-doubt that churned in the pit of her stomach.
‘Only the fearless or reckless may enter the competition,’ Sophronia informed her, ‘so sometimes the opposing team get roped in under false pretences – but of course, only an idiot would sign up for that –’
‘Ah, there you two are!’ a high-pitched voice uttered with much jollity.
Rachel watched a sprightly middle-aged woman as she strode down the footpath with two hockey sticks over her broad shoulders and a green long-sleeved jumper tied loosely around her thick neck.
‘Um – hullo, Miss Jenkins,’ replied Sophronia suspiciously.
Rachel read her red name badge as she drew up to them. Miss Sue Jenkins, Head of Games, had won an outstanding number of awards and merits, and her cluttered green t-shirt made sure you knew it.
With her muscular, tanned legs sticking out of her tartan skirt, Sue plunged the hockey sticks into the sandy ground. ‘Well, I never thought I’d see the day,’ she said confidently and handed Rachel and Sophronia each a sturdy hockey stick. ‘Miss Gribble and Professor Shire’s niece on my hockey pitch – now, that’s going into the history books.’
‘Excuse me, Miss Jenkins… um… there must be some mistake,’ Sophronia told her with growing concern.
‘Oh, there’s no mistake,’ she said buoyantly. ‘Both your names are on the Marbles list along with… ah, yes – Miss Tomkins and Miss Jones will be joining you on your team today,’ she added brightly and folded the crinkled paper in half, giving them an encouraging but rueful smile.
‘But whose writing is that?’ Sophronia demanded.
‘Er, that – that will be mine,’ replied Rachel hesitantly.
‘Excellent – so that’s all settled,’ spouted Sue. ‘C’mon, girls – follow me. You’re not kitted out, and the game starts in thirty minutes.’
Rachel didn’t dare stare at Sophronia’s scowling face as they followed Sue along the footpath, but as they left the boys’ stunned faces behind, she heard William say, ‘This is going to be one hell of a match.’
✽✽✽
‘Rachel, what on earth were you thinking?’ Sophronia demanded over the changing room’s partition. ‘You know we’re all going to die!’
‘Sorry, but I didn’t know that Bellingtons’ Marbles would require me writing a will,’ she snapped back with a disagreeable rebuff.
‘You’d think your uncle would have least told you about the game of Marbles,’ said Sophronia crossly, joining her at the centre of the room.
Rachel ignored the whiff of something unpleasant wafting up from her scruffy black rugby boots. ‘Well, he didn’t tell me, OK,’ she told her irritably, trying not to lose her temper as she kept tying her long laces into knots, still peeved her undercover uncle hadn’t mentioned the game of Marbles could probably put you or your team six feet underground!
A knock at the door ended their bickering. ‘You girls ready?’ Sue asked.
‘Yes, Miss Jenkins – just give us a moment,’ replied Sophronia.
Rachel flung open the stubborn door, gave Sophronia a worried look and asked her timidly, ‘Do you know how to play Bellingtons’ Marbles?’
‘Miss Jenkins will explain the rules before the match,’ she replied glumly. ‘C’mon, Rachel – we better not keep her or the crowd waiting.’
✽✽✽
Sophronia introduced Fiona Tomkins and Olivia Jones to Rachel. The two girls were the same age as Rachel, but they were a good two inches taller.
The young orphan’s clever ruse had fooled them as well, so Rachel didn’t feel too bad about being taken in.
Sue told them to pick a goalkeeper, defender, midfielder and attacker before they went out onto the pitch. Sophronia insisted on being the goalkeeper, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Fiona chose the position of defender, and Olivia snapped up the position of midfielder, leaving Rachel with the unenviable position of the attacker.
‘Right, it’s almost time, girls,’ said Sue with a little bit too much enthusiasm. ‘I’m going out onto the pitch and introduce the crowd to the game. I’ve never seen so many people come and watch a game of Marbles before. Now, remember, girls, on the pitch, I’m to be addressed as the umpire,’ she added with a winning smile and left through a side gate.
Rachel joined the other girls and peered out at the immense crowd.
The crowd let out a roar of jubilation as Sue entered the centre circle.
Sue’s megaphone crackled. ‘I’d like to welcome you all to the game of Bellingtons’ Marbles,’ she said with overzealous glee, and the crowd roared their approval. ‘The rules of the game are simple. Each team of four has one marble in their cherry pit. Any member of the team can attempt to knock the marble away from their opponents’ cherry pit; however, it’s the attacker’s job to put the white ball into the cherry pit.
The team that scores three times wins the game of Marbles.
However, there is one rule that will end the game immediately.
Knock your opponents’ marble out of play, and the game ends in a draw. Please note, unlike hockey, players must wear protective clothing at all times. We have Sister Wiggly waiting in the wings to take any player to the hospital wing, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’
Laughter and riotous banter rippled through the crowd.
Sue checked her wristwatch. ‘OK, it’s almost time to kick off – so let’s meet the teams,’ she added boomingly and blew her whistle.
Two gates opened, and eight girls walked out into the pitch with their hockey sticks over their shoulders. The odour of onions, fried sausages and burgers drifted by their noses, and Rachel’s stomach wasn’t the only one that rumbled in protest as the players sniffed the delicious smells.
As each team drew up to Sue, Rachel recognised Hester and Abigail’s flabby faces beneath their oversized helmets; however, the thundering footsteps behind them belonged to two girls – each the size of a barn.
Rachel gulped as the two ginormous girls swung their hockey sticks like swords, and even Sue had to duck and dive to one side as they came to a thudding stop, almost beheading the umpire’s bushy head. The girls had grown even wider since the last time she’d seen them fighting Alice.
‘Those are Hester’s sisters, Binny and Bunty Miller,’ Sophronia told Rachel. ‘Binny’s the oldest, fattest and definitely the meanest!’
‘PLACES EVERYONE,’ bellowed Sue.
With her head slung low, Sophronia traipsed over towards her cherry pit, and Binny took slow bone-crushing steps towards her own. Abigail, Olivia and Fiona put their games faces on and took their places.
Hester and Rachel glared at one another as Sue spun around and shouted into the stands, ‘PREPARE TO RELEASE THE MARBLES.’
The crowd applauded so loudly it felt and sounded like a thunderclap.
Rachel watched Bobby Growler huff and puff behind his hot dog van, which had parked far too close to the edge of the gravelled sideline with its other half sinking into the squishy pitch. In between two big billowing balloons, he struggled to insert the vacuum hose into the red one, but he finally gave Sue a wide grin and gave her the thumbs up.
Sue produced a coin. ‘Heads or tails?’ she asked the attackers.
‘Our team always chooses heads,’ Hester grinned.
‘That’s fine by me,’ retorted Rachel magnanimously.
Sue flipped the coin. ‘Heads it is,’ she announced.
‘We’ll take the red marble,’ said Hester triumphantly, but she leaned in towards Rachel. ‘Yellow suits your team as it’s full of cowardly custards,’ she added with a cruel cackle and a sinister smile.
Sue pointed over at Binny. Bobby beamed and flipped the switch on the side of his chugging pump that belched out a greasy looking fog. With a whooshing sound, the red balloon shot through the air with a boom.
Binny staggered two steps forwards and with her tree-stump arms caught the marble, spun around and threw it into her cherry pit.
The crowd went crazy.
Binny threw her hands over her head and clasped them together in triumph as if she had actually won the game of Marbles.
Bobby inserted the vacuum tube into the yellow marble and flipped the switch. Like a shooting sun, the marble arced through the air.
At first, Sophronia stood her ground, but as the marble bore down on her, she hesitated and leapt back, and at that moment, a sudden gust of wind brought the marble down with a wobble, and it bounced hard and hit her full on. The crowd laughed as she rolled with the marble right into the hockey net, and somebody yelled, ‘Look, she’s scored an own goal.’
With egg on her face, Sophronia rolled the marble out of the net and into the cherry pit. Hester sniggered so much her mouth guard fell out.
Sue held the white ball at arm’s length. ‘All right, girls – this is it – let the best team win,’ she said and blew her shrilling whistle.
As the ball plummeted towards the ground, Rachel thought about her vain attempts at mastering the skill of the hockey stick at Plums.
Hester dived straight in and flipped the ball back towards Abigail.
Rachel didn’t think but acted, speeding towards Abigail, who hadn’t expected her opponent to come at her so fast.
Rachel slammed the ball away from her, and it flew down the pitch.
Taken by surprise, Olivia fumbled but caught the ball; she dribbled it across the pitch and shouted at Rachel, ‘ATTACK THEIR MARBLE.’
Rachel sped down the sideline, but Bunty swung her stick to block her, but with skill on her side, she managed to dodge her and barrelled towards Binny, who hadn’t flinch an inch as she raised her stick.
‘ATTACK,’ the crowd bellowed repeatedly.
At the very last second, Rachel crouched down and threw her weight forward, tucked herself into a tight ball and passed right under Binny’s skirt and between her stumpy tree-like legs. Rachel emerged unscathed and launched herself at their red marble, and the crowd held their breath.
The marble slowly rolled out of the pit.
Olivia plo