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  “Nor do I,” said Dad.

  The Riches turned to go.

  “See you, smelly-pants,” said Royston.

  “See you, goofy,” said Bertie.

  He watched them jog off down the road, then turned to Dad.

  “I thought you said you couldn’t come?”

  “I changed my mind,” said Dad. “I’m not going to be beaten by that stuck-up twerp.”

  “No,” said Bertie. “But they look like they’re taking it pretty seriously.”

  “Fine,” said Dad. “Two can play at that game. First thing tomorrow morning you and me start training.”

  CHAPTER 3

  At 7a.m. the next morning Dad dragged Bertie out of bed. Bertie groaned. He didn’t want to go for a training run. He had important stuff to do on Saturdays, like watching TV.

  They jogged out of the gate and along the road. After one lap of the park Dad needed to sit down. He slumped on a bench with his head between his knees, gasping for breath.

  “You’ve gone all red in the face,” said Bertie.

  “I’ll be okay,” panted Dad. “Just … need … a minute.”

  “Can we get an ice cream?” asked Bertie.

  Dad shook his head; he seemed to have lost his voice. Just then, two joggers came running along the path. Bertie groaned. It was the Riches again. They seemed to be following them.

  “You okay, old chap?” said Mr Rich, slowing down. “You look a bit hot.”

  “I’m fine,” wheezed Dad. “Just doing a few stretches.”

  “Nice shorts, Bertie,” grinned Royston. “How many laps have you done?”

  “Five or six,” lied Bertie.

  “We’re doing twenty,” bragged Royston. “My dad’s super fit. He’s running the marathon this year.”

  “Big deal,” said Bertie.

  “Your dad doesn’t even go jogging,” sneered Royston.

  “So what? He could beat your dad any day!” said Bertie.

  “Fat chance,” scoffed Royston.

  “Come on, Royston,” said Mr Rich. “Let these chaps get their breath back. See you on Sports Day then. Should be fun!”

  “Bye bye, Bertie!” jeered Royston. “If you’re lucky, I’ll show you my winners’ medal!”

  Dad scowled after them as they sped off. “I can’t stand that man,” he said.

  “You’re lucky you’re not in Royston’s class,” sighed Bertie. “If they win this race I’ll never hear the last of it.”

  “They’re not going to win,” said Dad, getting to his feet. “Come on, just three more laps.”

  Half an hour later they arrived home. Bertie practically had to carry his dad into the house.

  “What happened to you?” asked Mum.

  “We went jogging,” explained Bertie. “Dad’s a bit puffed out.”

  “My legs!” moaned Dad. “My back!” He hobbled to the sofa and collapsed with a groan. Mum shook her head.

  “Aren’t you taking this all a bit seriously?” she asked. “It’s only a school Sports Day!”

  “Yes, but Royston Rich and his dad have entered,” explained Bertie. “We have to beat them.”

  “Ah,” said Mum. “I might have known. Well, you boys had better watch out because Suzy and I have put our names down.”

  “For what?” said Bertie.

  “The relay race,” said Mum. “So Royston and his dad aren’t your only competition.”

  “Ha ha, very funny,” said Bertie. This was getting ridiculous – his whole family were taking part! Still, he couldn’t wait to see Suzy and Mum come in last.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sports Day finally arrived. The sun shone. The field was hung with bunting. Miss Boot checked her programme. So far the day was going smoothly. No one had been sick or fainted in the heat. A dozen races had come and gone without a hitch. Now it was time for the final race of the day – the parent-child relay. Miss Boot’s face clouded over. She’d just remembered who was taking part. But surely not even Bertie could ruin a simple relay race? She blew on her whistle and called everyone to the starting line.

  Bertie stood with his dad eyeing the other teams. Royston and Mr Rich were busy warming up. They wore matching running vests with a number one on the front. Mum was chatting idly to Suzy. She hadn’t even bothered to get changed.

  “Last chance to back out,” smirked Royston.

  “Forget it,” said Bertie. “We’re going to batter you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” said Royston.

  Miss Boot explained the rules. There were two parts to the relay. The first leg was a 100 metre sprint for the mums and dads. Then they partnered their children for a wheelbarrow race to the finish.

  Bertie, Royston and the others took up their positions further down the track. The parents lined up on the start. Mr Rich crouched forward. Dad hitched up his shorts. Mum gave Suzy a cheery wave. Miss Boot raised her megaphone to her lips.

  “On your marks, get set, GO!”

  Mr Rich streaked away as if his shorts were on fire.

  “COME ON, GERALD!” screeched Mrs Rich, jumping up and down in wild excitement by the finish line.

  “Go, Dad! RUN!” yelled Bertie.

  He groaned. Already his dad was trailing Mr Rich. Bertie would have to make up ground in the wheelbarrow race. He got down on his hands and knees, ready to go.

  Mr Rich reached them first and grabbed his son’s legs.

  “Ow, you’re hurting me!” moaned Royston.

  Seconds later Bertie’s dad arrived, red-faced and gasping.

  “Hurry! Catch them!” cried Bertie.

  “I’m trying!” panted Dad.

  They set off in pursuit with Bertie walking on his hands. He was good at the wheelbarrow race. He’d practised in the garden with Darren. Just ahead, Royston’s team were tiring. Bertie could hear Mr Rich muttering under his breath.

  “Move, Royston, they’re catching up!”

  “It’s not my fault!” whined Royston.

  “Come on, Gerald! Come on, Royston!” screamed Mrs Rich.

  But Bertie’s team were gaining. He could see the finish line up ahead with Miss Darling and MrWeakly holding the winning tape. Now they were neck and neck. Bertie could hear Royston panting like a dog. Suddenly, his rival swerved across his lane, barging into him.

  “ARGH!” Bertie fell flat on his face.

  “Bye bye, loser!” crowed Royston, as he pulled away. But he spoke too soon. Bertie’s dad wasn’t letting them get away with that. He dived for Mr Rich, rugby tackling him from behind.

  “OOOOF!”

  Royston got flattened beneath his dad.

  “OWW! Get off!” he wailed.

  Miss Boot covered her eyes. The crowd gawped. Bertie and Royston were rolling on the ground, while their dads yelled and shoved each other.

  “Cheat!”

  “You’re the cheat, fat face!”

  “Don’t you call me fat face!”

  Everyone had forgotten the race for the moment. Everyone except the team in third place. As they crossed the line, loud cheers filled the air. Bertie let go of Royston’s foot and looked up. No, it couldn’t be! After all that effort, all that training, the winners were Mum and Suzy!

  Copyright

  STRIPES PUBLISHING

  An imprint of Little Tiger Press

  1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,

  London SW6 6AW

  Characters created by David Roberts

  Text copyright © Alan MacDonald, 2012

  Illustrations copyright © David Roberts, 2012

  First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2012.

  eISBN: 978–1–84715–411–8

  The right of Alan MacDonald and David Roberts to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, s
tored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  www.stripespublishing.co.uk