Нариндер Дхами – Sleepover in Spain (страница 2)
1 Sleeping bag
2 Pillow
3 Pyjamas or a nightdress
4 Slippers
5 Toothbrush, toothpaste, soap etc
6 Towel
7 Teddy
8 A creepy story
9 Food for the plane journey
10 A torch
11 Hairbrush
12 Hair things like a bobble or hairband, if you need them
13 Clean knickers and socks
14 Sleepover diary and membership card
PLUS: sun cream and sunglasses!!
Hiya, I’m back! It’s me, Frankie, remember? I thought it was about time we had a chat ’cos it’s been
You haven’t forgotten us, have you? There’s me and my best mate Kenny, and Fliss and Rosie and Lyndz – the Sleepover Club. We’ve been having sleepovers for months now, and we always have a great laugh. So we were a bit shocked when Kenny said what she did. I mean, you know Kenny – she likes to stir things a bit. But this time what she said
Anyway, it all started one afternoon at school. We were making models of horses out of clay (after our horsey sleepover, we’re all nuts about horses now), so, of course, there was clay everywhere. Even Fliss was covered in it, and she’s the neatest person in the known universe. She even gets her mum to iron her knickers!
“Hey, look!” Kenny stuck a lump of clay on the end of her nose, and grinned at the rest of us. “Pinocchio!”
“Thanks a lot, Kenny!” Fliss snapped, yanking it off her. “That’s supposed to be my horse’s tail!”
“All right, how about this then?” Kenny started sticking tiny bits of clay all over her face. “Look, it’s Emma Hughes!”
We all fell about laughing. Emma’s been off school with chickenpox, so her best mate Emily Berryman’s had to hang out with dozy Alana ‘Banana’ Palmer instead. You remember Emma and Emily, otherwise known as the M&Ms, don’t you? They’re our Number One Enemies. Alana Banana’s sort of our enemy too, but she hasn’t got any brains so we don’t worry about her that much.
“OK,” I said, squinting down at my model. “Be honest, you lot. I can take it. Does this look like a horse to you or not?”
“Nope,” said Lyndz.
“No way,” said Fliss.
“No chance,” Rosie added.
“It looks more like a giraffe,” Kenny remarked.
“Oh, great,” I said crossly, crushing my model flat. “Don’t hold back, will you?”
“Your horse looks like it’s been run over by a steamroller, Frankie,” Mrs Weaver said, coming towards us. She raised her eyebrows at the squashed heap of clay in front of me. “What have you been doing for the last hour?”
“Sorry, Miss,” I said quickly. “I just couldn’t get it right.” As my grandma always says, if at first you don’t succeed – give up.
Mrs Weaver glanced at the clock. “Well, you’ve got about ten seconds left before we tidy up, so it’s not worth starting again.” Then she looked at us. We were all wearing overalls, but our hands were caked in clay, plus Lyndz had some in her hair and Kenny still had bits stuck on her face. “I think you’d better go and clean yourselves up too.”
We lobbed our leftover clay into the clay bin, and ran for the sink in the corner. Fliss got there first.
“Ow! Stop pushing!” she complained, as we all tried to elbow our way in front of her.
“Hurry up or I’ll shove a lump of clay down your neck!” Kenny warned.
Fliss jumped round, looking alarmed, and Kenny dodged smartly in front of her and began washing her hands.
“Oh, very funny!” Fliss sniffed.
“At least it wasn’t ice cubes this time!” I pointed out, and we all cracked up, even Fliss. We hadn’t forgotten about the sleepover when we’d tried to make a crazy video to send to
“So what exciting plans have you got for the sleepover at yours tonight, Rosie?” Lyndz asked.
“Well, I thought we could have a fashion show,” Rosie suggested eagerly.
And that’s when Kenny dropped her bombshell.
“Bor-
“Like what?” Rosie asked, looking offended. You know how prickly she can be sometimes.
Kenny shrugged. “I dunno… Something
We all stared at her with our mouths open.
“Are you saying our sleepovers are
“Nah, ’course not!” Kenny reached for a paper towel. “Sleepovers are still
“Like what?” I asked. “And don’t say we could play football.”
“Well, why not?” Kenny said, and the rest of us groaned loudly. “OK, but what about having a sleepover somewhere else? We only ever go to each other’s houses.”
“What’s wrong with coming to my house tonight?” Rosie began indignantly.
“Nothing, Rosie-posie!” Kenny interrupted, flicking some water at her. It was a great shot. It hit Rosie right in the eye, and she squealed. “But don’t you remember what a brilliant time we had when we slept over at the museum?”
We had to admit, she had a point.
“Well, what did you have in mind?” I asked. “A sleepover in Sainsbury’s, or what?”
“Ha ha, very funny, Francesca,” Kenny began, trying to annoy me by using my full name, but right at that moment Mrs Weaver yelled over the noise: “Everyone in their seats now, please! I’ve got something very important to tell you.”
We all scuttled back to our seats in silence. Kenny’s remark had kind of thrown everyone, including me.
Mrs Weaver was waiting impatiently, glaring at Ryan Scott and Danny McCloud who were still chucking bits of clay at each other.
“Right, I want to tell you about a rather exciting trip that the school has arranged for this year group,” she said, picking up a pile of papers from her desk. “And I have a letter for you to take home to your parents explaining all about it.”
Nobody looked very thrilled. Have you ever noticed that what teachers think is exciting and what