Hey Baby!

Emily Berryman tossed her hair. “Yeah,” she said. “We don’t need you losers to show us, do we, Alana?”

“No way,” echoed Alana, their creepy slave. And honestly she sounded exactly like a sad little robot. That did it. We laughed till we cried.

Our teacher, Miss Weaver, came in just then. “You seem to be having fun,” she said cheerfully. She couldn’t understand why me, Kenny and the others fell about.

Kenny poked me in the back. “Was that a result, or was that a result?” she hissed.

“Yeah, one – nil to us,” I hissed back. “And it’s not over yet!”

It wasn’t. Not nearly. I was more determined than ever to get Spud and Tiff back together. I mean, to start with I’d only wanted to save our sleepover. But now I wanted to save Spud and Tiff too. That would show those sneery little witches!

I kept picturing it, like a scene from a soap. Tiff all pink and happy. And poor old Spud staring at his boots, telling her how sorry he was. I didn’t know how we were going to make this mushy scene come true, mind you. But each time I replayed it in my mind, the more real it seemed. Then all at once I’d got it. A totally brilliant plan!!

I know what you’re thinking! Frankie Thomas, playing Cupid. This is all a bad dream, right? Yeah, yeah. I don’t understand it either. But it’s not true what people say about only children. We aren’t all selfish little so-and-sos, you know. Besides, I’m not an only any more. I’m going to be a big sister like Tiff. Who knows, I might need a favour myself one day!

Anyway, when it was afternoon break, we streaked straight into the playground and grabbed our favourite corner. You’ve got to be quick off the mark if you want any privacy at our school. Unless you like being tripped up by sad little kids droning “Five little speckled frogs”!

Lyndz split her packet of Skittles with us. Then I made Rosie run through Spud and Tiff’s quarrel again to make sure she hadn’t left out something important. Don’t give me that look. I’m NOT a bossy boots, OK. But someone has to get thiings started, and it’s usually me.

“It was Tiff and Spud’s anniversary,” explained Rosie. “They’ve been going out a whole year. So Spud was meant to be taking Tiff to the multiplex to see that James Bond film.”

“Coo-el,” said Lyndz. “My brother says James Bond’s new girlfriend is wicked.”

“Yeah, she does mega stunts and looks amazing,” said Kenny.

“I saw her on telly,” sighed Fliss. “She’s got a figure to die for.”

Some days I feel like I’m the only girl in the Sleepover Club with brain cells. I took a big breath. “BUT LOVER BOY FORGOT TO TURN UP, OK!” I bellowed, to get their attention.

Kenny rubbed her ears. “Keep your hair on, Spaceman.”

“Sorry Rosie,” said Lyndz.

“Spud did worse than just forget,” Rosie went on. “He actually went off to football practice with his mates.”

“Duh,” said Lyndz. “What a nerd.”

“I don’t see what’s nerdy about that,” said Kenny. For reasons none of us understand, football is totally sacred to Kenny. And anyone who dares to criticise her favourite team, Leicester City, is in big trouble.

“I think it’s awful,” said Fliss dramatically. “It shows some stupid game is more important to Spud than his feelings for Tiffany.” Sometimes Fliss talks like a problem page.

Kenny had an evil glint in her eye. “Football’s not stupid.”

“Let Rosie finish, you wallies. The bell’s going any minute.”

So Rosie told us how her sister kept ringing the cinema to see when the next showing was. Tiffany thought she’d got the times wrong at first. Then she finally realised Spud wasn’t coming. But she didn’t make a big fuss or anything. Just shut herself in her room and finished her homework. See what I mean? There’s something unnatural about that girl.

Of course, next day old Spud breezes round, as if nothing’s happened. When he let slip where he’d been, Tiff totally flipped. Being a Cartwright, she didn’t explain why she was upset, of course. Just did what we call her Ice Queen routine and sent Spud packing.

“Now he thinks she hates him,” Rosie said, her lip trembling.

“Cheer up,” I said. “Those two are going to live happily ever after if it kills us!”

For a minute Rosie looked exactly like my little dog Pepsi, when she thinks you’re taking her for a walk; all hopeful, with her head on one side. “Do you really think so, Frankie?” she quavered.

“I know so,” I beamed. “I’ve got a plan.”

And if I say so myself, when the others heard it, they were pretty impressed.

“Hey,” said Kenny, as we went back into class. “Anyone notice the M&Ms snooping round that time?”

“Not unless they were disguised as dustbins,” giggled Fliss.

We finally spotted them in a huddle with Alana and Regina Hill. The M&Ms, I mean, not the dustbins! Alana made this big thing of shutting her sad little teen magazine and putting it away, to stop us seeing who they were drooling over. But I’d already clocked it. Probably because Juice is the only pop singer I actually know personally.

I’m not swanking. It’s the truth!

He wasn’t a singer when I knew him, though. Just this weird kid called Julian Whately who lived next door to a friend of Mum’s. Then he dyed his hair, changed his name, and became this, like, big superstar. And if you want my honest opinion, he’s still a dork. It’s a total mystery to me why so many girls go wild about him. For some reason, the M&Ms had got it bad for Juice. I heard them whispering about him all afternoon. But I couldn’t care less what they were cooking up. I didn’t have time. I was working out what we were going to say to Spud after school.

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I don’t know about you, but if I was going out with a boy, I’d personally prefer one with a sensible name. I mean, what kind of name is SPUD? Sounds like a labrador with gruesome breath! Also, you’d think someone called Spud would look tough, wouldn’t you? You know, with a serious tattoo or a stubbly haircut. But Tiff’s Spud’s got this fluffy yellow hair. Kenny says he looks like an ugly little duckling!

Anyway, we hit the Happy Shopper at 3.30pm on the dot. Both Tiff and Spud work there after school, which at this moment they were probably REALLY regretting.