Magic Betsey

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Betsey and the Secret Weapon

  Betsey and the Birthday Present

  Get Lost, Betsey!

  Magic Betsey!

  Mind-blowing Magic Facts

  About the Author

  Also by Malorie Blackman

  Copyright

  About the Book

  “Magic Betsey! Magic Betsey! Do your magic! Show us! Let’s see!”

  Betsey’s putting on her very first magic show! But being a magician is more botheration than she thought, and soon she’s told to put the illusions away. Betsey’s got one last trick up her sleeve, and this time it really is magic!

  Four magical Caribbean adventures, perfect for building reading confidence.

  Also available:

  Betsey Biggalow Is Here!

  Betsey Biggalow the Detective

  Betsey’s Birthday Surprise

  Hurricane Betsey

  For Neil and Lizzy,

  with love as always.

  Betsey and the Secret Weapon

  “Go, Betsey! Go!”

  Betsey ran as fast as she could – but it wasn’t fast enough. Her best friend May flashed past her on the right. Josh whizzed by her on the left.

  “Run, Betsey!”

  Betsey could hear her bigger brother Desmond shouting to her. She tried to run faster but Josh and May and Ce-Ce were now way out in front. Betsey slowed down. She’d never catch them now.

  “BETSEY, RUN!” Desmond yelled.

  Betsey didn’t stop but she didn’t run flat out either. What was the point? She’d never catch up with her friends now.

  Betsey finished the race last. Desmond walked over to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Never mind, Betsey. You’ll do better next time.”

  “No I won’t,” Betsey sniffed. “I’m a useless runner. Everyone always beats me. I bet even Gran’ma Liz could beat me!”

  “I don’t think so!” Desmond smiled.

  “Yes, she could,” Betsey insisted.

  “It was only a practice run,” Desmond pointed out. “The real race isn’t until next Friday. That gives you plenty of time to get better.”

  “I’m not going to run any more stupid races.” Betsey kicked at the sand, her head bent.

  May jogged over, puffing as she ran.

  “Bad luck, Betsey. Better luck next time.” May smiled.

  “May, don’t be such a show-off!” Betsey fumed. And off she marched.

  “There’s no need to bite my head off just because you lost!” May called after her. “Bad loser!”

  Betsey ignored her and carried on walking home. She’d never, ever won a race. Her friends always beat her and she always came last or close to it. She’d never be able to run. Never. Never. Never!

  Desmond ran up and started walking beside her.

  “Betsey, just do your best. That’s all that matters,” said Desmond.

  “Botheration, Desmond, I am doing my best, but it doesn’t get me anywhere – except last,” sniffed Betsey.

  “It’s only a race,” said Desmond.

  “That’s all right for you to say. You’ve never come last in a running race,” said Betsey miserably.

  Desmond chewed on his bottom lip and thought for a while.

  “Betsey, if I tell you a secret, do you promise never to tell anyone else?” Desmond said at last.

  Betsey stopped walking and looked up at her brother. He looked absolutely serious.

  “I promise,” Betsey breathed.

  It wasn’t often that Desmond shared his secrets!

  “I always used to come last in my races,” Desmond began. “Until something strange, something really peculiar happened.”

  “What was that?” Betsey asked.

  Desmond looked around, first this way, then that, before he spoke.

  “I found a secret weapon to help me with my running,” Desmond whispered.

  “A secret weapon? What was it?” asked Betsey, her eyes as round as saucers.

  Desmond looked around again.

  “A pair of running shoes,” whispered Desmond.

  “Is that all?” Betsey’s shoulders slumped with disappointment.

  “Ah, but they weren’t just any old pair of running shoes. They were special. They were magic!”

  “They were?”

  Desmond nodded. “Every time I wore those shoes I never lost a race.”

  “Where are those shoes now?” Betsey asked.

  “In a secret place.” Desmond winked.

  “Oh, Desmond, let me borrow them. Please!” Betsey begged.

  Desmond studied Betsey closely. “Only on one condition . . .” he said at last.

  “Anything,” Betsey interrupted.

  She would agree to anything if it meant she could borrow Desmond’s secret weapon.

  “You can’t tell anyone about them,” said Desmond. “It’s got to be our secret or the magic might not work.”

  “Agreed!” Betsey said at once.

  “There’s something else,” said Desmond. He pulled Betsey closer.

  “What’s that?” Betsey asked.

  “I’ll give you the shoes tonight, but you’ve got to practise running and running in them to get used to them. Then the shoes will know that they’ve got to transfer their magic from me to you,” Desmond explained.

  “I can do that,” said Betsey. “I’ll run in them every day until the race.”

  “D’you promise?” said Desmond.

  “I promise,” said Betsey.

  She was going to use Desmond’s secret weapon. She’d never lose another running race again!

  Every day after that, Betsey wore Desmond’s secret trainers. From the moment she put them on, they fitted perfectly. She even wanted to sleep in them but Gran’ma Liz put her foot down and wouldn’t allow it.

  And every day Betsey ran!

  She ran before school and during the break times at school and after school. She ran everywhere, all day, every day until Gran’ma Liz said, “Betsey, if you’re not careful, you’ll run until there’s nothing left of you but a greasy spot!”

  Betsey didn’t care. She carried on running.

  At last Friday arrived – the school’s sports day. It seemed like everyone in the district turned up. And Betsey’s race was the next event. Betsey stood at the starting line with her other friends. But this time, she wasn’t worried. Oh no! This time she had Desmond’s secret weapon. She was wearing his magic running shoes. They didn’t look like much of a secret weapon. They were old and the bits that should have been white were now grey. But that didn’t matter. Betsey could feel their magic spinning up through her legs right to the top of her head.

  Desmond came running over.

  “Ready, Betsey?” Desmond winked.

  “Ready!” Betsey smiled.

  “Remember, you’ve got to really believe in their magic and run flat out. Run harder than you ever have before and don’t give up,” said Desmond.

  “OK.” Betsey nodded.

  She bent down and touched her secret weapons for luck.

  Desmond ran back to the sidelines. Betsey waved at her whole family who had come to cheer her on. There was Mum, Gran’ma Liz and her bigger sister, Sherena, as well as Desmond. Betsey sighed. It would’ve been wonderful if Dad could’ve been there as well, but he wasn’t due home for another three weeks.

  Betsey turned and looked down the beach to the finish line. She ignored the lapping of the sea on the sand. She ignored the birds singing in the coconut trees. She concentrated on the finishing line down the beach and nothing else.

  “Are you all ready?” the judge called out. “On your marks . .
. GO!”

  Betsey raced like the wind. She didn’t look to see where anyone else was. She didn’t pause or slow down but she kept her eyes on the finishing line. And in no time at all she was running past it.

  “Hooray! Hooray! Well done, Betsey.”

  Betsey looked around. Mum and Sherena and Desmond were running up to her, followed by Gran’ma Liz.

  “Did I win? Did I win?” asked Betsey.

  She wasn’t sure. “No. May came first – but you came second!” Sherena grinned. Mum hugged Betsey tight. “I’m so proud of you, Betsey. Well done!” Second . . . “I didn’t come first . . . but second is a lot better than coming last all the time!” Betsey decided.

  Betsey ran over to her friend, May.

  “Well done, May!” said Betsey.

  “Congratulations, Betsey,” said May. “You almost caught me. I only just won!”

  “Maybe next time I’ll beat you,” said Betsey.

  “Maybe . . . and maybe not!” said May.

  Betsey laughed and ran back to her family. But then disaster struck! The sole of one of the trainers came unstuck and started flapping around under Betsey’s foot like a bird’s wing.

  “Desmond, look! Look at your secret weapon,” Betsey wailed. “How will I ever win another race now?”

  “Betsey . . . I’ve got a confession to make,” Desmond began. “Those running shoes . . . they’re not really a secret weapon. They’re not really magic.”

  “Yes, they are.” Betsey frowned. “I wouldn’t have come second if it wasn’t for them.”

  “That was you, Betsey, not the shoes. They’re just my old running shoes. You came second because you practised and you didn’t give up,” said Desmond.

  Betsey looked down at the trainers. They didn’t look so magic any more. They just looked old and battered.

  “They’re not really magic . . .?” Betsey asked.

  Desmond shook his head.

  Betsey slowly smiled. “Well, if they’re not magic, then it must be me. I’m the secret weapon!”

  “Too right!” Desmond grinned.

  “I’m going to keep practising and I’m going to get better and better at running,” Betsey smiled. “And, to be honest, Desmond, I’m glad these old running shoes aren’t magic.”

  “Why?” asked Desmond.

  “Because that means I can go back to wearing my own trainers again. I don’t have to wear your ones any more,” Betsey said. “Your trainers stink of pong-smelly cheese and there’s nothing magic about that!”

  Betsey and the Birthday Present

  “Mum! Gran’ma Liz!” Betsey burst into the house and raced into the kitchen.

  “Guess what? Guess what?” Betsey danced around the table.

  “Go on then – as you’re bursting to tell us!”

  “It’s May’s birthday on Saturday and she’s having a birthday party. I can go, can’t I?” Betsey was so excited, she bounced up and down like a tennis ball.

  “A party!” said Mum. “That’ll be fun. Of course you can go, Betsey.”

  “Yippee! A party!”

  Abruptly, Betsey stopped dancing. She turned quickly to her mum.

  “Can I have a new dress, Mum? And new shoes to go with it? Can I? And a present for May?”

  “Betsey, I’m not made of money!” Mum frowned.

  “And money doesn’t grow on trees,” sniffed Gran’ma Liz.

  “Yes it does,” Betsey replied at once.

  “Pardon?”

  “Money is made of paper and paper comes from trees, so money does grow on trees,” said Betsey. “We did paper at school!”

  Mum and Gran’ma Liz looked at each other. Sherena burst out laughing.

  “I’ll tell you what, Betsey,” said Sherena. “When you get some money, go and plant it, then wait for a money tree to grow! But make sure you tell me where you planted the money first!”

  “Botheration, Sherena! You’re just jealous because I’m going to a party on Saturday and you’re not!” said Betsey. She turned to her mum and Gran’ma Liz. “When can we buy my new dress and my new shoes and a present for May?”

  “As your mum’s working, I’ll take you shopping tomorrow after school,” said Gran’ma Liz. “But you can’t have all those things.”

  “But I want them,” said Betsey. “I need them!”

  “You could always not go to May’s party,” Gran’ma Liz pointed out.

  Betsey opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. She was going to May’s party and she’d get a new outfit and a present for May if it was the last thing she did!

  The following afternoon, Gran’ma Liz and Betsey headed off to the shops.

  “Let’s try this store,” said Gran’ma Liz.

  They walked in and passed the costume jewellery counter.

  “Look!” Betsey tugged at Gran’ma Liz’s arm, then pointed.

  It was the perfect present. A silver-coloured bracelet with purple stones.

  Gran’ma Liz looked at the price tag on the bracelet. “Hhmm! It’s not exactly cheap!” she sniffed.

  “But May would love it. Can we get my dress first and then come back?” asked Betsey.

  They went to the children’s section of the store and walked up and down, up and down the aisles.

  “How about this dress?” asked Gran’ma Liz.

  “Nah! Too boring!” Betsey replied.

  “What about this one?” Gran’ma Liz asked.

  “Nah! Too long!” said Betsey.

  “What’s wrong with this one?”

  “Too horrible!”

  Twenty minutes later, Gran’ma Liz was getting very fed up!

  “Betsey, child! My feet are beginning to hurt,” Gran’ma Liz said.

  And then Betsey saw it! It wasn’t a dress. It was a blouse – the exact same colour of the sea on a sunny day, with tiny white buttons. And it was beautiful.

  “Can I have that blouse, Gran’ma Liz? It’d look excellent with my white skirt,” said Betsey.

  Gran’ma Liz looked at the price tag. She shook her head. “Betsey, this blouse is too expensive.”

  “But I need it,” Betsey protested.

  “Betsey, if we buy this blouse, there’ll barely be enough money left over to buy May an ice-cream, let alone the bracelet!” said Gran’ma Liz firmly.

  “But . . . but . . .” Betsey protested.

  “You can have the bracelet for May or the blouse for yourself. I don’t have enough money to buy both,” Gran’ma Liz said. “Which one do you want? But just remember it’s May’s birthday – not yours.”

  Botheration! Betsey stared at the blouse. She wanted the blouse something fierce. The only trouble was – she wanted the bracelet too! Which one should she choose? She looked across the shop to the costume jewellery counter, then back at the blouse. Gran’ma Liz watched without saying a word.

  “I’ll . . . I’ll have the blouse,” Betsey said at last.

  “Are you sure?” said Gran’ma Liz.

  Betsey nodded. But inside, she didn’t feel too sure at all . . .

  All the way home on the bus, Betsey held on to the carrier bag that had her blouse in it. She kept opening up the bag to look at it. It was so pretty. Betsey didn’t even mind that she didn’t get new shoes. She’d wear her sandals and still look good.

  “But what about a present for May . . .?” said a tiny voice inside Betsey. “What about May’s birthday . . .?”

  “You’re very quiet,” said Gran’ma Liz as they got off the bus.

  “Gran’ma, do you think I should have bought the bracelet for May instead of the blouse?” Betsey asked.

  Gran’ma stroked Betsey’s cheek. “Betsey, it was your decision. What do you think you should have done?”

  “I don’t know,” Betsey replied.

  “Then you’ll have to work it out for yourself.” Gran’ma Liz shrugged.

  And they began to walk home, past the sugar cane fields, past their neighbours’ houses with their shady porches. One person waved at them,
but Betsey was too busy thinking to notice.

  Later that night, Betsey lay on her side in bed looking at the blouse she’d bought. The sea-blue blouse with white buttons. But the strange thing was, it didn’t look as pretty as it did in the shop.

  “What about a present for May . . .?” The voice inside Betsey’s head wouldn’t leave her alone. It roared like the sea in a September storm. “A present for May . . . a present for May . . .” it said.

  Betsey put her hands over her ears and turned her back on the blouse. All at once, she didn’t even want to look at it any more.

  On Thursday Betsey was very quiet and on Friday morning she was quieter still.

  “Betsey dear, don’t you feel well?” asked Gran’ma Liz.

  Betsey shook her head slowly.

  “What’s the matter, child?” asked Gran’ma Liz.

  “I hate that blouse. I hate it! I wish you’d never bought it,” said Betsey.

  “You liked it on Wednesday afternoon,” Gran’ma Liz reminded her.

  “Well, I don’t like it now,” said Betsey.

  “Do you want me to take it back to the store?” asked Gran’ma Liz.

  “Could you? Would you?” Betsey asked, hopefully.

  “Do you want another blouse instead?” Gran’ma Liz asked.

  Betsey shook her head. “Can you buy that bracelet we saw? The bracelet for May’s birthday.”

  Gran’ma Liz smiled. “Are you sure?”

  Betsey nodded.

  “Then I’ll go and exchange the blouse today, while you’re in school,” said Gran’ma Liz.

  Betsey skipped out of the room. All at once, she felt a whole lot better.

  The next day at May’s party, Betsey handed over her present which was now wrapped up. May tore off the wrapping paper and squeaked with delight when she saw the bracelet.

  “Oh Betsey, thank you. It’s beautiful,” breathed May. “I’ll wear it every day.”

  “You look pretty, Betsey,” said Ce-Ce. “I like your top.”

  Betsey looked down at her yellow blouse and her white skirt. She smiled at Gran’ma Liz, then turned to Ce-Ce and said, “It’s not new. I’ve had this blouse for ages.”