Mistress of the Storm by M. L. Welsh Page A

past him.
    Verity looked around and saw that they were still in one piece. And in the lead. She beamed with happiness. This was brilliant fun. But as Judy Makepiece opened her eyes and realized they had not capsized, her relief turned to embarrassed anger.
    ‘What the hell do you think you were doing, showingoff like that?’ she shouted at Verity. ‘I should have known you’d think you were something special.’
    Verity was baffled and confused. ‘I’m sorry,’ she shouted back. ‘It just seemed like the right thing to do. I thought it helped.’
    Still shaking, her team-mate recovered a little. She knew she wasn’t being fair. They were going to win, and it was all down to Verity; but there was no way Judy was going to admit that. ‘Let’s just get round this final marker and call it a day,’ she snapped.
    Verity stood once more in the freezing water, holding the dinghy by the gunwale while Judy furled the sails and cleaned the ropes. She paused occasionally to glare at Verity. ‘Never raced with someone so unprofessional … Should have known you’d pull a stunt like that.’
    Verity could feel the sticky sandy mud oozing between her toes. She had no idea what she’d done. Just as she thought things couldn’t get any worse, Miranda Blake’s dinghy came speeding towards them with an incensed occupant.
    ‘Beginner’s luck, Gallant,’ she snarled across the water. ‘That and the fact that your lousy team-mates saddled me with a leaky tub.’
    ‘Shut up, Blake,’ shouted a familiar voice further up the slipway.
    ‘The Twogoods,’ Miranda sneered, investing those two words with a world of disdain.
    Henry and his brothers gave her a hard stare as they came down to congratulate Verity on her win.
    Jumping nimbly from her boat onto the dry slipway, Miranda stared challengingly at her as she shivered in the water. ‘What a delightful couple you make, Verity,’ she said, tilting her head to one side. ‘You have so much in common: second-hand clothes, archaic sailing gear … robust physiques.’
    ‘Pack it in, pygmy-girl,’ shouted Percy.
    But Miranda was on a roll now and she wasn’t giving up. ‘Goody Twogood and Gallant the Galumph.’ She smiled brightly at Verity. ‘Goody and the Galumph.’ She laughed spitefully and Judy Makepiece joined in.
    ‘Goody and the Galumph,’ Verity heard someone giggle. ‘That’s quite good.’
    Gallant the Galumph
. Was that what everyone was going to call her? Verity was devastated. She was cold, she was wet and she’d had enough of being teased and bullied for one day. Pulling herself up onto the slipway – and studiously avoiding anyone’s gaze – she hurried away from the dinghy before her welling tears overflowed. She could hear people shouting, but she didn’t care. She just kept pushing blindly through the crowd, heading for the exit and escape.
    On her own at last, Verity gave in to the unhappy hurt of being laughed at in front of so many people. Grandmother’s words rang in her ears:
Do you have any friends? I suppose the little fat boy will have to do if none of thegirls like you
. She was useless. Nobody liked her – not even when she was in the winning boat.
    At the corner she heard Henry shouting. Verity was angry now. And Henry was there. ‘Just leave me alone,’ she shouted back. Henry’s honest, open face looked confused and hurt but she didn’t care.
    ‘But you—’ he started.
    ‘I’m what?’ Verity snapped, tears streaming. ‘The only person in Wellow who can’t sail? Incredibly unpopular? Dressed like an old woman?’
    ‘No, you were—’
    ‘I’m one half of
Goody and the Galumph
,’ Verity interrupted. ‘Even by my standards, that has to be a new all-time low.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Henry as she stormed off down the road, still crying bitterly.

Chapter Nine
    The next morning Verity woke up feeling terrible. Why had she been so mean to Henry? The only person at school who’d ever been nice to her and she’d been