The 24 Hour Sleepover Club Page 2

  Because there are five of us in the Sleepover Club now and only four beds, two of us usually have to share my bed. As Kenny is my best friend, and I’m used to her fidgeting about, it is usually her. Last time her feet were so freezing that I hardly got any sleep, so this time I insisted that we both sleep in our sleeping bags on the bed. And we decided that Lyndz might be safest in the bottom bunk, (after the camp-bed collapsed underneath her last time) with Fliss in the top one. Rosie is very sensible and I didn’t think she’d mind being on the camp-bed.

  We’d just about finished rearranging my room for the sleepover when the doorbell went.

  “It’s F-Time!” Kenny and I shouted together. That is sleepover-speak for Fun Time, or the start of our sleepover!

  We dashed downstairs.

  “You sound like a herd of elephants,” shouted my dad. “I think I might charge people to come round and look at you. Especially when the rest of those wild animals you call friends arrive.”

  We opened the door to find Fliss standing there. She looked nothing at all like a wild animal, more like a small mouse. She wiped her feet about a million times, even though it wasn’t wet outside. Fliss’s mum is very hot on dirt. Getting rid of it that is. If she went on Mastermind, her specialist subject would be cleaning. And Fliss is going the same way.

  “Fliss, for goodness’ sake stop wiping your feet and come in,” I moaned. Kenny and I both grabbed hold of one of her arms and almost carried her upstairs. Even Fliss was laughing by the time we had got to my room. We all flopped down on my bed.

  “Oh no!” gasped Fliss, delving into her rucksack. “I think this lemonade’s going to explode!”

  She pulled out a plastic bottle which was mainly full of cloudy bubbles. Kenny rushed over to the window with it, flung it open and unscrewed the bottle top. A fountain of liquid shot out.

  “Oi! Watch it!” shouted a voice below. Fliss, Kenny and I all peeped out of the window. The lemonade had shot out all over Lyndz who was just walking up to the front door! I thought I was going to wet myself laughing. Lyndz just creased up, too. She was in a sort of crumpled heap on the doorstep when Dad opened it.

  “I might have known it was you, Lyndsey,” said Dad in his mock-headmaster’s voice. “Oh no, not the hiccups. Please tell me you haven’t got the hiccups already!”

  Lyndsey is famous for her hiccups, but she doesn’t usually get them so early in the sleepover. She gulped a few times and shook her head. We were spared them – for the moment.

  “Thank goodness for that!” said my dad, patting his heart in fake relief. “OK, I think you’d all better give me your goodies for the midnight feast and tomorrow’s picnic. I’m not sure that I can cope with any more edible explosions. Frankie’s room is a big enough tip as it is!”

  “Ha, ha, ha!” I said, handing over Fliss’s bag of food. Lyndz gave him hers. Kenny’s and, of course, mine were already in the kitchen.

  Lyndz came upstairs and threw her stuff on the bottom bunk. While Dad had been teasing her in the hall, we had had time to prepare a squishy-poo. We stuffed all our sleepover clothes into my sleeping bag and then, when Lyndz’s back was turned, we caught her unawares with it. She collapsed on to her bed in a fit of giggles. Her face was buried in her own sleeping bag which she had just put out. It wasn’t long before we saw the unmistakeable shaking of her shoulders and a muffled Hic emerging from the bed.

  “Oh Lyndz, you can’t have hiccups now!” laughed Fliss.

  There was nothing for it but my thumb-in-the-hand routine. We were so busy dealing with Lyndz that we didn’t hear the doorbell go. And it wasn’t until Rosie suddenly flew into the room, flushed and breathless, that we realised she had arrived.

  “You’ll never guess who I’ve just seen!” she shouted excitedly.

  “Brad Pitt?” I asked.

  “Was it all of Boyzone in the nude?” asked Lyndz, her hiccups having suddenly stopped.

  “Emile Heskey?” asked Kenny excitedly. “You know, the Leicester City footballer,” she added, as if we didn’t know!

  “No, stupids,” said Rosie, dancing about on the spot. “I’ve just seen the M&Ms prancing about in a couple of tutus! They must have been going to some dumb old fancy-dress party!”

  “And they said we were babyish for having sleepovers,” snorted Kenny. “I’d just love to see them prancing about. That would wipe those stupid smiles off their faces!”

  Fliss looked a bit puzzled.

  “You know, I think I’ve seen them somewhere dressed like that,” she said.

  “Maybe that’s their idea of fun on a Saturday night,” laughed Lyndz. “They probably say to each other, ‘Now what shall we do tonight? I know, let’s dress up as ballerinas again!’ “

  The rest of us collapsed into fits of giggles.

  “Come on, girls,” shouted Kenny, pirouetting around the room. “Let’s pretend we’re ballet dancers!”

  We all joined in, crashing into each other like a herd of hippopotamuses.

  There was a knock on the door and Dad walked in.

  “Oh no!” he gasped. “It’s happened, hasn’t it? You’ve been possessed by aliens!”

  Mum came to stand in the doorway next to him.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” she sighed. “Just when I was going to tell them it was time we were getting ready to go to the fair!”

  “Yes!” we all screamed.

  And, of course, that’s where the trouble really started.

  It always takes forever for us to get ready to go out. You would think that we could just go out as we are. Wrong! We have to change about a million times, even though we hardly have any stuff to change into. We borrow each others’ things, try on different combinations and end up wearing what we had intended to wear from the start! Then of course there’s our hair to deal with!

  Fliss is actually pretty great at doing different hairstyles. I think she must get it from her mum, who is a beautician. It’s the one time when Fliss has lots of patience – she’ll sit for hours doing our hair. And she’s pretty cool at putting on make-up, too. When I think about it, I give Fliss a hard time about being a wimp and everything, but she’s pretty great in other ways. And, let’s be honest, the rest of us sometimes look like a dog’s breakfast if we try to put make-up on ourselves.

  Kenny, of course, is just not interested in all that stuff, and she started to get really ratty with us all for taking so long. She just wanted to go to the fair and go on all the scary rides!

  Dad was getting a bit cross, too. “Come on girls!” he shouted upstairs. “Sometime this year would be good!”

  Eventually we all piled downstairs.

  “I think there must be some mistake,” said Dad when he saw us. “It was my daughter and her friends I was waiting for. Who are you?”

  He’s crazy, my dad, but we all felt pretty flattered. We did look kind of cool and we felt grown-up with a bit of make-up on and our hair done differently.

  We piled into the back of our estate car and sang along to the Spice Girls all the way into Leicester. Mum and Dad joined in the singing, too, but we tried to ignore them.

  When we got to the fair, Dad parked in a muddy car park and we all scrambled out.

  “Hey, not so fast you lot!” shouted Mum. “I know that you’re all cool and don’t want us old fuddy-duddies to cramp your style, but we want to know where you’re going and we want you in our sight all the time. Is that understood?”

  “Yes,” we all sighed.

  The air smelt of fried onions and petrol. The further we got into the fair, the more it smelt. And then there was the sickly-sweet smell of candyfloss, too. Anywhere else those smells would have turned my stomach. But because it was at the fair and had the accompaniment of loud music and flashing lights on all the rides, it actually smelt pretty good at the time. The whole thing was exciting.

  We made our way over to the far side of the fairground to the Dungeon of Doom. It’s just about the scariest thing at the fair so we usually do it first while it’
s still light. Then if we’re feeling really brave before we go home, we do it again, in the dark.

  “Last one there’s a stewed prune!” yelled Kenny, charging towards the entrance. Lyndz and Rosie ran after her, screaming. I grabbed hold of Fliss’s hand and started running, too.

  “Come on, Fliss, we don’t want to be stewed prunes, do we?”

  Fliss laughed nervously. Fliss is dead squeamish, and last year she wouldn’t come in with us. She hovered around outside and then made us all feel guilty for leaving her. It’s always awful if one of us gets left out of things, like Rosie being left out of the netball team. But it is usually Fliss’s choice not to join in. Anyway, I was determined that she was not going to spoil this sleepover by moaning.

  “Come on, Fliss. It’ll be a laugh. We’ll all be there together. And it’s not that scary really,” I said.

  Fliss had that set look on her face. She just nodded and said, “OK”.

  Mum hurtled past us from nowhere and dashed up to the entrance of the Dungeon of Doom, where Kenny, Lyndz and Rosie were waiting for us.

  “Mum, what are you like!” I gasped when Fliss and I had run to join them. “Fancy being worried that you were going to be last at your age. You do embarrass me sometimes!”

  Anyway, we eventually walked up a very steep flight of stairs inside the Dungeon of Doom. It was pitch black. I could hear lots of squealing somewhere in the distance. Then I felt a hand grab my throat.

  “Is that you Frankie?” hissed Fliss.

  I struggled free.

  “Yes, but it was nearly a dead Frankie. You nearly strangled me!” I choked.

  “Sorry,” she squeaked. “I’m scared. I want to go out.”

  “No way are you leaving now,” I told her. “Look, just grab hold of my arm and when we get used to the dark we should be able to see a bit more.”

  We stood still, holding on to each other. I could hear Kenny shrieking somewhere in front of me.

  “Are you OK, Kenny?” I shouted.

  “I’ve just trodden in something that feels like a mass of eyeballs,” she shouted back. “It’s brill!”

  “I’m going, Frankie, I don’t like this!” squeaked Fliss.

  “Look, just follow me,” I said.

  We shuffled along very slowly. Then suddenly we hit a sort of moving treadmill.

  “You’ve got to run on this until it stops,” I told Fliss.

  She screamed a bit, but she seemed OK really. When it stopped we went into a room where the air got colder and it felt kind of damp. Suddenly a gush of water shot down the wall behind us and splashed our clothes.

  “This is not fun!” wailed Fliss. “I want to go ho… o… o… me!”

  She suddenly disappeared.

  “Are you all right, Fliss?” I called.

  “No,” came a little voice which sounded as if it was coming from the bottom of a well.

  My eyes were getting more used to the dark now and I could just make out a hole in the floor which was attached to a chute. It must have led to the floor below.

  “Hang on Fliss! I’m coming down,” I called.

  Just as I was about to jump down the chute, I heard someone behind me.

  “Oh this is just gross! I’m completely soaked. I wish I hadn’t worn these new jeans.”

  “I know,” said another voice. “It’s so dark in here, I hope we don’t break our legs or anything. Then we’d miss out on all the fun in the park tomorrow!”

  It was the M&Ms! I was sure it was. I’d recognise Emily Berryman’s gruff voice anywhere. I couldn’t wait to tell the others.

  When I got to the bottom of the chute, Fliss was still in a crumpled heap. Rosie was with her. She had slid down a fireman’s pole. Kenny and Lyndz were still running wild on the upper floor. We could hear their screaming and giggling from where we were.

  “You’ll never guess who I’ve just heard,” I said, pulling Fliss to her feet.

  “Oasis?” asked Rosie hopefully.

  “Nope. The M&Ms. They were upstairs.”

  “I thought you said they were going to a fancy-dress party,” Fliss said to Rosie.

  “I thought they were. They were all dressed up, anyway.”

  “Maybe they thought you should dress like fairies to come to the fair!” laughed Fliss.

  Fliss never makes jokes. And that one was actually quite funny.

  “That’s very good, Fliss!” said Rosie, and we all laughed. Fliss looked very pleased with herself. She even seemed to forget what an awful time she’d had in the Dungeon of Doom.

  “Are you sure it was them? What did they say?” asked Rosie when we had calmed down.

  “Well I couldn’t see them,” I admitted. “But one of them was complaining about wearing new jeans. The other said it was too dark. And something about hoping they didn’t break their legs because they didn’t want to miss the fun in the park tomorrow.”

  “They’re not coming to our picnic are they?” asked Fliss.

  “Of course not,” I snorted.

  “Maybe it wasn’t them at all, Frankie,” said Rosie.

  I was about to disagree when something charged into me. Kenny and Lyndsey had both come crashing down the chute, one after the other. They were both helpless with laughter.

  “That was wicked!” gasped Kenny. “Let’s do it again!”

  “Let’s not,” moaned Fliss. “Let’s go and get some candyfloss. I’m hungry!”

  We all groaned. We were all hungry too. But not for candyfloss. That must be the biggest letdown known to humanity. It always sounds nice, but after a couple of mouthfuls you realise it burns your tongue, it’s too sickly and you’re left holding the stupid stuff for the rest of the evening. Fliss loves it.

  We trooped over to the part of the fair where the food stalls were. Fliss bought her candyfloss, the others had hot dogs and Mum, Dad and I had a cheese pancake each.

  Kenny is the messiest eater known to mankind. So it was no surprise when she squirted tomato ketchup all down her prized Leicester City top.

  “Oh rats!” she shouted, trying to scrape off the gloopy liquid.

  We were all dabbing her and rubbing at the marks, when who should strut past? Yep, you’ve guessed it, the M&Ms!

  Oh yes, the M&Ms. We were all fussing round Kenny when they walked past. They looked pretty stupid actually, done up like a couple of Barbies in lots of make-up, new jeans and high heels. I mean, who in their right mind would go to a fair in a muddy field in high heels? Or, as Kenny said, who in their right mind would wear high heels with jeans anyway!

  But the thing was that they were there by themselves, thinking they looked so cool. And there were we, fussing around Kenny as though she was a toddler, with my parents hovering in the background! Dorksville!

  As soon as the others saw them too, we all kind of went on to automatic pilot. Rosie clamped her hand over Lyndz’s mouth, and Fliss did the same to Kenny. If anyone was going to show us up, it would be those two. I stooped over as far as I could without injuring myself. My height always gives me away. I tend to look like a giraffe in a field full of horses. We huddled together as much as possible, and held our breath.

  The M&Ms walked right by us and never said a thing. They seemed more concerned about the splashes of mud which were creeping up their jeans.

  “Who were they?” asked Mum and Dad when the coast was clear.

  “The M&Ms!” we all shrieked together.

  “They look older than I do!” muttered Mum.

  “Yeah right, Mum! You wish!” I laughed, but I knew what she meant.

  “Don’t ever think you’re going out looking like that,” Dad suddenly said to me quite sternly. “There’s plenty of time for dressing up when you’re older.”

  “Chill out, Dad!” I said. “Why would I want to look like that anyway?”

  “Do you think they saw us?” asked Fliss.

  “Nah,” said Kenny, still rubbing at the patch of ketchup on her shirt. “They would have said something.”

  �
��Maybe Frankie’s parents put them off,” said Fliss anxiously.

  “Thank you very much, Fliss!” laughed Mum.

  Fliss went bright red. “I didn’t mean… ” she mumbled.

  “Oh Fliss, I was only joking,” said Mum.

  “I thought you said you saw them in their tutus,” Kenny said to Rosie. She didn’t know that I’d heard them in the Dungeon of Doom already.

  “Yes, I did,” admitted Rosie. “Maybe they changed their minds about the party. Or maybe they’d just been dressing up, like we do sometimes.”

  We agreed that even the M&Ms could do normal things like that.

  “Right then, who’s for the dodgems?” shouted Mum.

  She and Dad raced over to the cars. I told you that they enjoy the fair more than we do. Kenny went in a dodgem by herself. She drives like a madwoman so nobody ever wants to go with her. Rosie and Fliss went together and I went in a car with Lyndz.

  Mum and Dad were just about the worst drivers there, and kept pinning us all into corners.

  “Hi, sis!” shouted a voice in our direction. It was gorgeous Tom, one of Lyndz’s brothers.

  “You women drivers are all the same!” he laughed as he shot past, in hot pursuit of a pouting blonde in another dodgem.

  “I might have known my stupid brother would be here!” said Lyndz. “I expect the others are causing chaos somewhere. They had better stay out of my way! I want one night on my own without them.”

  You see! Those people who have brothers and sisters don’t want them, and those who haven’t, do. It’s a funny old world, as my grandma says.

  After the dodgems, we went on the Wheel of Fear. You probably know it already. You’re strapped into a sort of cage in a wheel and it spins faster and faster until you don’t know which way up you are. Fliss gave that one a miss. She said it made her feel sick just looking at it!

  “Isn’t that Callum over there?” asked Rosie. Callum is Fliss’s brother.

  “Where?” asked Fliss, spinning round.

  We all looked to where Rosie was pointing. Sure enough, there was Callum with the pretty girl who had danced into the M&Ms in the playground. They were holding hands.