Read Writing in the Sand for Free Online Page B

seem to mean much to him.
    Kirsty tries getting his attention. “I don’t envy you, Shaun, having to sit in our revision classes. Still,” she says, “it’ll give you a head start for when you come back in September.” I take a quick look at her. Surely he’s older than us?
    He glances at the twins for a second. Then his eyes, kind of grey, slide away. He makes a point of not looking at me. Like I’m not here. But he notices Toffee and rubs the fur under his chin.
    Our eyes meet again, Kirsty’s and mine. The little downturn of her mouth tells me she reckons Shaun’s a lost cause.
    Mrs Kelly puts a mug of coffee and a slice of cake in front of me. “You look a bit tired, Amy. Everything all right?”
    Toffee wants to nose my cake. I push him away. “I’m fine, thanks, just wishing it wasn’t Monday tomorrow.” This isn’t strictly true. The only thing I don’t like about Mondays is leaving Mum alone after the weekend. And it’s not like we’ve even got an exam tomorrow, just revision for English Literature, my favourite subject.
    I stop my mind from drifting. Lick my finger and press it into the cake crumbs on my plate. I could easily have eaten another slice. “Lovely cake, Mrs Kelly.”
    She smiles, pleased. “I got the recipe off the telly.” I’m surprised she ever has time to watch.
    When she gives Shaun a slice, Toffee sniffs at it. For the first time Shaun looks at me. “Can he have a bit?”
    â€œBetter not,” I say, “I don’t want him getting into bad habits.”
    Shaun nods, and finishes his cake in two mouthfuls.
    There’s the sound of Mr Kelly knocking mud from his boots on the back step. He comes in. Spots Toffee. “Hey, who’ve we got here?” He pulls off his socks. “And hello to you too, Amy.”
    â€œHis name’s Toffee,” says Kirsty. “He’s a rescue dog.”
    I’m surprised when Shaun says, “A rescue dog?” like he wants to know more.
    Mrs Kelly says, “A dog without a home.”
    Shaun pushes back his chair. “Like me,” he says, and leaves the room.
    While Mrs Kelly pretends to shoot herself, Kirsty’s dad says, “You can’t watch every word, Susie.”
    I take a few sips of coffee but, unusually for me, I don’t want the rest. Mrs Kelly goes to the cake tin. “D’you think your mum would like a piece?”
    â€œOh, she’d love one. Thank you.” Kirsty’s mum never misses a chance to pop something in a bag for Mum.
    Before I leave, Mr Kelly gives me two freshly-picked lettuces to take home. “A bit of a glut out there,” he says. “Hope you can make use of them.”
    â€œOh great, thanks.” I try to sound matter-of-fact. I don’t want him to know I think he might look on Mum and me as a charity case.
    The tide’s half in when I make my way back from Kirsty’s across the sand. Toffee is so obedient I don’t need to bother with my old belt. But I know I must get a real dog collar soon, and – positive thinking – put his name and our phone number on it.
    It’s a beautiful day and the sea is mirror-calm. Just a few sailing boats bob about, waiting for the wind to whip up. There are couples strolling; other people on their own, some with dogs. Toffee eyes the nearest – a posh-looking white poodle – then decides staying with me is a better bet. Gazing out to sea, I pick up on a daydream – me, Liam and Toffee racing about on a beach in Australia.
    â€œOw!” I’m brought down to earth by the real Toffee crashing into the backs of my knees. “That wasn’t funny !” I tell him. He drops a stick at my feet, like this makes up for nearly sending me flying.
    The sand is perfect, just damp enough for drawing. But I keep getting a low-down stabbing pain, and feel it again when I bend over for the stick. It