Матильда
Bruce Bogtrotter and the Cake
Notabitofit.BruceBogtrotterwasthree-quartersofthewaythroughandstillgoingstrong.Onesensedthathewasalmostbeginningtoenjoyhimself.Hehadamountaintoclimbandhewasjollywellgoingtoreachthetopordieintheattempt.Whatismore,hehadnowbecomeveryconsciousofhisaudienceandofhowtheywereallsilentlyrootingforhim.ThiswasnothinglessthanabattlebetweenhimandthemightyTrunchbull.
Suddenlysomeoneshouted,"ComeonBrucie!Youcanmakeit!"
TheTrunchbullwheeledroundandyelled,"Silence!"Theaudiencewatchedintently.Theywerethoroughlycaughtupinthecontest.Theywerelongingtostartcheeringbuttheydidn’tdare.
"Ithinkhe’sgoingtomakeit,"Matildawhispered.
"Ithinksotoo,"Lavenderwhisperedback."Iwouldn’thavebelievedanyoneintheworldcouldeatthewholeofacakethatsize."
"TheTrunchbulldoesn’tbelieveiteither,"Matildawhispered."Lookather.She’sturningredderandredder.She’sgoingtokillhimifhewins."
Theboywasslowingdownnow.Therewasnodoubtaboutthat.Buthekeptpushingthestuffintohismouthwiththedoggedperseveranceofalong-distancerunnerwhohassightedthefinishing-lineandknowshemustkeepgoing.Astheverylastmouthfuldisappeared,atremendouscheerroseupfromtheaudienceandchildrenwereleapingontotheirchairsandyellingandclappingandshouting,"WelldoneBrucie!Goodforyou,Brucie!You’vewonagoldmedal,Brucie!"
TheTrunchbullstoodmotionlessontheplatform
