Mega Sleepover 4 Page 7

  When we arrived at the farm, I said bye to Dad and jumped out to open the gate. The first thing I saw was Alfie in the field. He was munching grass as usual and didn’t look worried at all.

  “Happy now?” asked Stuart.

  “Yep!” I nodded.

  “Oh look, isn’t that one of your mad friends?” Stuart pointed to the lane leading to the practice ring. Rosie was standing there, waving at me like a crazy woman. I started walking towards her. Suddenly, thud! Kenny leapt on to my back.

  “Hiya, Lyndz! Have I missed anything? I would’ve got here earlier, but my stupid sister wanted to come too. I had to bribe her to stay away. She took all my chocolate and made me promise to help with the washing up for a week!” Kenny was all out of breath and red in the face. And so was I, with such a great lump on top of me!

  “Gerroff!” I yelled and threw her off.

  “Girls! That’s not very lady-like behaviour!” said a loud voice behind us. It sounded just like Mrs Poole, our headmistress. I turned round in a panic, but it was only Frankie. She’s dead good at voices.

  “What are you doing? I thought we were supposed to be asking Mrs McAllister how we could help,” said Frankie. She can be too serious sometimes. She’d probably chill out a bit more if she had brothers and sisters to deal with. I’m always telling her that she can have my brothers any time!

  “I don’t think she’d like us disturbing her now. She’s taking a ride with Adam and his friends,” said Rosie.

  We had walked back down the path and were standing by the field, looking at Alfie.

  “All that stuff in the ring is so boring!” said Kenny. “You see Alfie? I bet I could make him jump over that fence – no problem!”

  “Oh yeah!” Frankie and Rosie said, laughing.

  I don’t trust Kenny sometimes. She has a wild streak in her and you just don’t know what she’s going to do next. I could tell that she was in Grand National mode and I had to get her away from Alfie – fast! Fortunately, just then Stuart walked past, wearing his big wellies and smelling of pigs.

  “You’re not frightening the horses are you?” he shouted.

  “Ha, ha, ha!” we said together.

  “Actually,” he said, coming over to us, “what exactly are you doing here? You’re not planning anything are you, Lyndz? I have to work here, remember. I don’t want you causing any trouble.”

  “As if!” I said. He snorted and walked off.

  We climbed on to the fence and sat looking at Alfie as he munched away at the grass.

  “Did you know that horses graze between sixteen and twenty hours a day?” I asked.

  “That sounds nice. I could manage that myself!” laughed Kenny.

  “It’s because they’ve got small stomachs you see. They can’t cope with big meals,” I explained.

  “Sounds like Fliss, she’s always nibbling at her food!” laughed Rosie. “She hasn’t got such big teeth though. And I’ve never seen her eat grass.”

  “I bet her mum has!” said Frankie. “She’s always going on those weird diets, and there can’t be many calories in grass!”

  “Speaking of Fliss, where is she?” I asked. “Do you think she’s chickened out of coming after all?”

  “Horsied out you mean!” shrieked Kenny.

  I don’t know why, but that really made me laugh. And you know what happens when I laugh too much, don’t you? Yep, I got the dreaded hiccups.

  “Aw, Lyndz, look, you’re frightening Alfie!” laughed Rosie.

  Alfie was looking at me through his long eyelashes. He didn’t look very impressed.

  But that only made me laugh more. Frankie grabbed hold of my hand to give me her evil ‘thumb in the hand’ routine. I was trying to balance on the fence, holding on with only one arm. It wasn’t very easy. What I didn’t need was someone running up behind me and digging me in the ribs. Which is exactly what Fliss did.

  “Lyndz, I’m here!” she shouted.

  Thump! I fell off the fence. Splat! Right on top of Fliss.

  She lay on the ground covered in bits of hay. And pig muck, by the smell of her.

  “Lyndz, you clumsy thing! Look at me!” she wailed. “I wasn’t going to come in the first place. I wish I hadn’t bothered now!”

  “I’m sorry, Fliss. I couldn’t help it!” I said, pulling her to her feet. “But at least it got rid of my hiccups!”

  “Well, that’s all right then!” grumbled Fliss.

  The rest of us looked at Fliss and started to laugh. She was covered in muddy marks and nasty brown splodges. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d been wearing scruffy old jeans and wellies like the rest of us. But that’s not Fliss’s style. Instead, she had on her black Adidas top, new pink bootleg trousers and some high-heeled boots.

  “Fliss what are you like!” laughed Kenny. “This isn’t a photo shoot for Vogue you know You’re supposed to be mucking in!”

  “Fliss has been mucking in!” shrieked Rosie.“Pig mucking in!”

  We screamed with laughter again. But we soon stopped when it looked as though Fliss was going to cry.

  “I didn’t have any old jeans, Mum’s given them all away,” she spluttered. “And I need some new wellies as well. My feet are too big for the ones I’ve got.”

  “You should have said,” said Rosie. “I’ve got some old ones that will probably fit you. And some old jeans. They’re in a pile waiting for Mum to take to the charity shop.”

  “I wish I’d known,” said Fliss, trying to brush the marks from her trousers. “Anyway, have you come up with a plan to raise millions of pounds yet?”

  “Nope!” said Kenny, Rosie and I.

  “Yes!” shouted Frankie. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  We all stared at her with our mouths open.

  “I am Brain of Britain. I should have a medal!” she laughed, dancing about. “Don’t you see? It’s brilliant. We’ve all got things that we don’t need any more, but which someone else probably does. Instead of taking them to the charity shop, we can sell them. And the money we make can go towards the Save the Stables campaign. Genius, or what?”

  “But how will people find out that we have things to sell?” asked Fliss.

  “We’ll make posters and put them up all over Cuddington,” replied Frankie.

  “We need to do it as soon as possible,” I said. “The sooner we raise money the better.”

  Frankie started jumping up and down. She was going quite pink with excitement. “We’re having a sleepover at my place next Friday, aren’t we? How about having a sale the next day? In our garden.”

  “Yes!” we all said together.

  “Won’t your mum mind?” asked Fliss, nervously.

  “Nah! It’s for a good cause, and Mum believes in good causes,” Frankie replied. “She might even donate some stuff herself.”

  “Look!” I said. “Mrs McAllister is just coming back from the lesson with Adam. Let’s tell her what we’re going to do.”

  Mrs McAllister was leading Adam on Marvel. He looked very tired, but happy. We told her about our plan, all talking at the same time and shouting to make ourselves heard. She just sort of smiled sadly, but Adam became quite excited.

  “What’s he saying?” we asked Rosie’s mum, who had just turned up.

  She interpreted the gestures Adam made with his head and arms. “He says that he’ll do the posters on his computer for you!” she announced.

  “Coo-el!” we all cried. Adam’s brilliant at stuff like that.

  “Well, I’m not sure how much good it will do,” said Mrs McAllister sadly, “but it’s great that you’re taking such an interest. I hope it goes well.”

  “Is there anything you’d like us to do now?” I asked.

  “Well, these horses need feeding. Then of course there’s the mucking out!” she said.

  “Sorry, my dad’s here,” said Frankie, hurrying away. “You’re coming with me, aren’t you, Kenny?” Kenny laughed and ran off as well, waving at me as she went.

  “We’ve go
t to get back too, haven’t we, Mum?” said Rosie, pushing Adam towards the car.

  “That leaves you and me, Fliss!” I laughed.

  “Sorry, Lyndz, Mum’s coming for me in five minutes. I think I’ll just go and wait by the gate,” squealed Fliss, moving away.

  Unfortunately, while we had been talking, I hadn’t noticed that Marvel had taken a fancy to Fliss’s Adidas top. As she walked away there was a loud rip, and a great chunk of black material came away in Marvel’s mouth.

  You should have seen the look on her face! That should really have been a sign that Fliss should be kept away from horses for good. But unfortunately for Fliss, we didn’t take any notice.

  I was quite tired when I arrived home from the farm. Mucking out horses is hard work you know. For once I didn’t have any homework to do, only reading, and I always do that in bed. I just planned to have something to eat and then flop in front of the TV. Bliss!

  “There you are, boss!” said Mum as soon as I walked through the door. “I was wondering when you were going to get back. I hope you’re going to pay me for being your secretary!”

  She’s really lost it this time, 1 thought to myself. I mean, I know that Mum has a hard time working and looking after five children, but what was she on about?

  “Your friends have been phoning for the last hour! I thought you were going to see them at the farm,” she said.

  “I did,” I replied, puzzled.

  “I wrote down their messages and put them on your desk—”

  I started to run up to my bedroom.

  “Not so fast, young lady,” she called. “Wash your hands and come for supper first. The rest of us are starving!”

  I gobbled down my supper so quickly it was a record, even for me. When I rushed into my bedroom, my desk was covered in post-it notes. Mum had stuck them in a line so I knew which order to read them in. The first message read:

  From Frankie:

  What happened to Fliss’s top? I was going to come back to find out, but Kenny wouldn’t let me in case we got roped into mucking out!

  The next note said:

  Can Lyndz come over to my place after school tomorrow? Adam wants to find out what we want him to put on the posters – Rosie

  Mum had written underneath:

  WHICH POSTERS? WHAT ARE YOU UP TO, LYNDSEY COLLINS?

  The next message was from Kenny:

  Are you going to Rosie’s tomorrow? I am, and Frankie is too. Have you spoken to Fliss since her ‘horsey’ experience? Ha, ha, ha! (That was Kenny laughing.)

  I HOPE YOU’RE NOT UPSETTING FLISS AGAIN. I TOLD KENNY THAT YOU COULD GO TO ROSIE’S AFTER SCHOOL SHE TOLD ME ABOUT THE POSTERS AND THE SALE TO RAISE MONEY FOR THE STABLES. PERHAPS YOU CAN GET RID OF SOME OF THAT JUNK IN YOUR BEDROOM – MUM

  The last message was from Fliss:

  Mum nearly killed me when she saw the state of my top. She said she always knew that horses were dangerous and she doesn’t want me getting mixed up with them. I don’t think she’s even going to let me go to Rosie’s tomorrow – or Frankie’s sleepover next week.

  I felt really bad when I read that. It was sort of my fault that Fliss had ended up getting so dirty. And if I’d been watching properly, Marvel would never have eaten her top.

  There was a knock at my bedroom door. Mum came in.

  “Mum, I don’t know what to do—” I began.

  She handed me another post-it note. It read:

  I’VE SPOKEN TO FUSS’S MUM. FUSS CAN GO TO ROSIE’S AND FRANKIE’S. JUST KEEP HER AWAY FROM HORSES FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE!-MUM xxx

  I read her note and smiled. I grabbed a pen and wrote on the bottom:

  Thanks, Mum. You’re the best!

  When we saw each other at school the next day, we didn’t really talk about what had happened at the farm. All our parents had told us to be nice to Fliss, so we didn’t want to upset her again. I think she was a bit embarrassed about it too, because she never mentioned it either. And you know Fliss, she usually goes on and on about stuff.

  After school we all walked back to Rosie’s house. Tiff, her older sister, looks after her until her mum gets back. Her mum’s at college at the moment, you see. She’s training to be a nursery assistant. She also has to go and pick up Adam from school, so she always gets home a bit later than Rosie.

  When we got to her house, Rosie gave us all some Coca-Cola. We put some crisps into a bowl and took them up to her bedroom. Her room’s enormous, but it’s still not decorated. That’s cool because it means we can write on the walls, but she’s nearly run out of wall to write on now.

  “What are you going to take to the sale?” Frankie asked Rosie.

  “I don’t know, clothes I suppose,” she replied. “I don’t really have anything else that I want to get rid of. What about you?”

  “Toys that I don’t need any more,” Frankie said. “I’ve kept them in case I got a baby brother or sister to give them to, but I don’t suppose I ever will now.”

  The rest of us looked at each other and pulled faces. Frankie could go on for hours about how unfair it is being an only child.

  “What are you going to sell, Lyndz?” Kenny asked me, trying to change the subject.

  “Dunno,” I shrugged. “Mum reckons that I should sell some of the junk I’ve got in my bedroom. She just doesn’t realise that I need it all.”

  “Same with me,” admitted Kenny. “My mum doesn’t see why I have to keep all my old football magazines and programmes and stuff. I keep telling her that one day I’ll be able to sell them and make a fortune.”

  “Yeah, right!” I laughed. “Like who would want them?”

  A word of warning to you – NEVER criticise Kenny’s obsession with Leicester City Football Club. It’s just not worth it!

  “All right then,” she said, looking very angry. “Why are you holding on to all your old posters and horse magazines? If you cared so much about Mrs McAllister’s horses, you’d sell them to raise money for the stables.”

  Aargh! What she was saying was true, but I didn’t want to get rid of them.

  “All right, I’ll sell them,” I told her bravely. “As long as you sell your football stuff.”

  Kenny went bright red. She realised that she’d talked herself into trouble. But Kenny never likes to admit that she’s wrong.

  “All right, I will!” she said.

  Frankie, Rosie and Fliss looked at each other, but they didn’t dare say anything. Kenny and I looked at each other. I felt bad and I knew that Kenny did too, but we couldn’t go back on our word now.

  Just then, we heard the front door open and the sound of Adam’s wheelchair speeding across the hall floor.

  “We’d better go down,” said Rosie. “Adam will be dying to get on with the posters.”

  We trooped downstairs, still hardly daring to speak to each other.

  “Hi, Adam. Have you had a good day?” asked Frankie.

  Adam nodded and smiled his big smile. He wheeled himself over to his computer and we all crowded round.

  “Right. What shall we put on these posters?” he gestured.

  “We’ll have to say what the sale’s in aid of,” I said.

  “As briefly as possible,” added Frankie. “We need a catchy slogan or something. Why don’t you put ‘Save our horses’ at the top?”

  Adam tapped away on his computer.

  “Next write that the sale’s at my house, on Saturday,” said Frankie. “And the time. What do you think about starting at ten and going on till twelve? Will that give us enough time to get everything ready?”

  We all nodded.

  “You should call it a car boot sale,” said Fliss. “People always go to those.”

  “But it’s not is it? There won’t be any cars there,” laughed Kenny. “It’s more like a Wellington boot sale!”

  “Just put ‘Grand sale of almost new items’,” said Frankie, “and then ‘Please support this worthwhile cause’ along the bottom.”

  “We could print them on coloured p
aper,” Rosie suggested. “We want as many people to see them as possible.” She put some fluorescent pink paper into the printer, and hey presto! our first poster emerged. It looked awesome:

  “Adam, you’re a genius. Much like myself!” laughed Frankie.

  “It’s brilliant!” I agreed.

  “Coo-el!” the others cheered.

  “Now we need to put up as many as possible,” said Kenny. “We want to make sure that everyone sees one.”

  Adam printed off a whole load of posters and we took ten each. We figured that as we all live in different parts of the village, between us we should have the area pretty much covered.

  Big mistake!

  Why do none of our plans ever turn out the way we want them to?

  You’d think that it would be easy to get rid of ten posters wouldn’t you? Well it wasn’t. A lot of the shops in the village actually charge for putting them up in their windows, which is crazy if you ask me.

  Frankie decided that she didn’t want to put up any posters in school either.

  “Why not?” we all asked.

  “Because of the M&Ms,” she replied. “You know what they’re like. They’ll spoil it for us.”

  She was right. The M&Ms – better known as Emma Hughes and Emily Berryman – are our deadly rivals. In front of grown-ups they act so goody-goody it’s sickening, but in fact they try to spoil everything we do. We usually get the better of them, but I suppose Frankie was right – we couldn’t take the risk this time.

  In the end, I put up two posters just outside the school gates. I gave a poster to Ben to put up in his nursery class (but I think he scribbled all over it first), I gave two to Mrs McAllister to put up somewhere at the stables, and stuck the rest on lampposts in our road.

  But putting up posters about the sale was the least of my worries. I still had to decide what I was going to sell. I had promised to donate some of my horse posters, but I couldn’t decide which ones. I know it sounds silly, but it’s as though the horses in the posters are real somehow, so it was really hard for me to decide which ones to give away.