Sue Mongredien – Merry Christmas, Sleepover Club: Christmas Special (страница 3)

Instantly, everyone was as quiet as mice.

Mrs Weaver smiled. “Oh, that got your attention, didn’t it?” she said. “Seeing as I obviously have a class of budding actors and actresses, I’d better tell you that there’s a meeting in the hall at lunchtime today, for everyone interested in taking part. And for those of you who AREN’T interested in being on the stage, let me remind you that we’ll need lots of scenery painters, costume designers, prop makers and people to help out with the lighting, too! So if you want to sign up for anything, come along to the hall at one o’clock sharp.”

We all grinned at each other. This was going to be wicked!

Fliss put her hand up, blushing slightly. “Er, Mrs Weaver, who gets to be Cinderella?” she asked, tossing her long hair.

Kenny rolled her eyes. “Let me guess – you think it should be YOU!” she muttered.

Mrs Weaver frowned at Kenny, and then turned her attention to Fliss. “Well, Felicity, that’s why we’re having auditions,” she said. “Miss Middleton will tell us more about it at lunchtime, but basically, anyone who’s interested in being Cinderella will have to do an audition next week. For the audition, you’ll have to read out some of Cinderella’s lines and maybe sing a song, too, so we can see who has a good voice, and who can speak nice and clearly.”

Fliss bit her lip. “But Cinderella IS blonde, isn’t she?” she said, frowning. “I thought—”

“The Cinderella in the Disney cartoon is blonde, yes,” Mrs Weaver said firmly. “But we’re not going to choose our Cinderella on hair colour, Felicity – just talent!”

“Oh, of course,” Fliss said, sounding a bit dejected. I knew – and the whole class knew – that Fliss had thought she’d get the part on looks alone!

“She’s got no chance, then, if they’re going for talent!” whispered Emily Berryman loudly. Snidey cow!!

If you didn’t know, her and her snotty sidekick Emma Hughes are big enemies of the Sleepover Club. We call them the M&Ms, but that’s certainly not because they’re as nice as the chocolate M&Ms. They’re the sort of girls who’ll pull your ponytail really hard, or nick your nicest pen when they think you’re not looking. I’m sure there’s a couple like them in your class, too, worse luck!

That morning seemed to go really really slo-o-ow. I swear time stood still and we were trapped in the classroom for about a week. Mrs Weaver was teaching us this complicated thing about fractions which I just couldn’t understand. Every time I looked down at my maths book, the same thought popped into my head. Cinderella! Cinderella! Cinderella!

I was dying for lunchtime to come, so we could go to Miss Middleton’s meeting and hear all about the panto. How could anyone concentrate on boring fractions at a time like this?

I love the story of Cinderella. OK, so the ending’s a bit sloppy with Prince Charming and all that yucky lovey-dovey stuff, but I just adore the bit where the fairy godmother turns the pumpkin into a magnificent carriage, and the four mice into beautiful white horses. Wouldn’t that be awesome, having a real-life fairy godmother who came into your bedroom and magicked everything up for you? But how on earth was Miss Middleton going to make that happen on stage? Unless she—

“Rosie Cartwright! Are you with us?” came Mrs Weaver’s voice. “Have you lost the power of your ears, suddenly?”

I went bright red. Oops! Caught daydreaming! “Sorry,” I said, staring down at my page again.

“We were talking about expressing the fraction two-thirds as a decimal,” Mrs Weaver said, still not finished with me. “Would you care to share your thoughts on that with us?”

“Er…” I said, hoping a flash of inspiration would strike. But wouldn’t you know, it didn’t. I’m TERRIBLE at maths! “Er… I don’t know, Miss,” I said in the end, feeling a bit of an idiot.

“You don’t know, Miss,” repeated Mrs Weaver. “I see. You don’t know the answer, even though I’ve just spent ten minutes explaining it to the rest of the class who WERE listening. Now if I was feeling really mean, I’d tell you to stay in at lunchtime for some extra work on fractions…”

I stared at her in horror. She couldn’t be so evil, surely?

“… but luckily for you, I’ll let you off – provided you pay attention for the rest of the lesson. Do we have ourselves a deal?”

“Deal,” I gulped gratefully, vowing to be a model pupil for the rest of the morning. There was no way I wanted to miss that lunchtime meeting!

“Good,” said Mrs Weaver. “So who CAN tell me the answer, then?”

Smug keen-bean Emma Hughes stuck her hand straight up. Surprise, surprise! Couldn’t resist a chance to make one of the Sleepover Club look bad in front of the teacher, as usual.

Wouldn’t you know it, the morning went even slower now I actually had to pay attention and do some work. About three years later, it was lunchtime. We wolfed down our sandwiches in the dining hall, then charged along to the pantomime meeting in the main hall – along with practically everyone else in our year! The joint was JUMPING, as Frankie would say.

Miss Middleton stood at the front with a clipboard. Mrs Weaver, Mr Nicholls and Mrs Somersby were also standing around, holding pieces of paper with lists printed on them.

“Hello, everyone,” Miss Middleton said, when we’d all quietened down. “What a great turn-out! I’m delighted so many of you are interested in helping out on this year’s pantomime. As your teachers have no doubt told you, we’re going to be putting on two performances of Cinderella. There’s plenty of work for everyone to get involved with, so we’ll need lots of helping hands.”

She cleared her throat, and then looked serious.

“Now, this is going to be the first meeting of many, between now and Christmas. There are going to be LOTS of rehearsals, too, so if you’re already busy with things like football or swimming clubs, please make sure you’re not taking on too much. We don’t want anyone collapsing with exhaustion right before Christmas, do we?”

I saw Kenny look a bit thoughtful at that. She’s in the Cuddington Swimming Club and trains twice a week and sometimes on Saturday mornings, too. Still, as Kenny didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word “exhaustion”, I guessed she would probably manage to combine that with the panto quite easily!

“Now, like I said, taking on a part in the play will mean a lot of work, but it’s also going to be a lot of fun,” Miss Middleton said, smiling around at everyone. “Does everyone know the story of Cinderella? Good. Well, what we’ll do next is try and organise everyone into groups. Mr Nicholls has kindly agreed to be in charge of props, scenery and lighting, and Mrs Somersby is going to be sorting out all the costumes and make-up. Last but not least, Mrs Weaver and I will be running the auditions and coaching the rehearsals. Got that?”

“Yes!” everyone chorused.

“Excellent!” said Miss Middleton. “If you’re interested in helping with props and scenery, go and stand in that corner with Mr Nicholls. If you want to help with costumes and make-up, go and stand in THAT corner with Mrs Somersby. And if you’d like an acting, singing or dancing part, stay where you are.”

There was bedlam as lots of people got up and started making their way to different parts of the hall.

The five of us looked at each other.

“I quite fancy a go at making props…” said Kenny.

“I wouldn’t mind doing make-up,” Frankie said thoughtfully. “I can do some wicked designs, I’ve been practising!”

“Oh, let’s stick together!” Lyndz said. “It’ll be much more fun if we’re all acting in it!”

“Yeah, Lyndz is right,” I said. “Why don’t we all go in for the auditions? It would be a right laugh!”

“What do you think, Fliss?” Kenny asked. “Don’t you fancy having a go on the lighting or carpentry?”

Fliss shuddered, and the rest of us laughed. Not likely! Fliss thinks anything technical is “man’s work” – and anyway, she might break a nail doing something like that.

“No, thanks!” she said, feelingly. Then she smiled serenely. “Anyway, I’m going to be Cinderella. I just know I’m going to get the part!”

“Ooh, very modest of you to say so, Fliss,” Frankie joked. “Should I ask for your autograph now, or when you’re REALLY famous?!”

“Fliss, EVERYONE‘S going to be going for Cinderella,” Lyndz said tactfully. “You don’t know for sure you’ll get the part, do you?”

Fliss tossed her hair back, looking a bit peeved. “Don’t tell me you’re going for the part as well, then?” she asked.

Lyndz shook her head. “Nah,” she admitted. “Actually, there’s another part I’d rather play…”

“What?” I asked in interest. I hadn’t had Lyndz down as the dramatic type before.

She went a bit pink. “Well… you know that bit where the fairy godmother magicks everything so Cinderella can go to the ball?” she said.

“Ye-e-e-e-es,” we said.

“Ahh, you want to be the fairy godmother?” Kenny asked.

“No,” Lyndz said.

“The pumpkin?” Fliss said – rather cattily, actually, as Lyndz is a teeny bit plump.

“No, one of the horses!” Lyndz said, looking a bit embarrassed. “Oh, don’t laugh, it’s what I want to be!”

Too late – we all started roaring with laughter! Of all the things to wish to be in the pantomime!