Mega Sleepover 3

“You haven’t got any bones in your bottom,” I pointed out.

I should have remembered that Mum knows all about anatomy, as she teaches childbirth classes.

“I might have cracked my coccyx!” she said, which made me screech so much, I nearly had an accident. But it cured my hiccups, it really did.

I wandered out to the workshop to find Dad. I told him about what the M&Ms had done to us.

“You’ve just got to be better than them,” he said, and started to sing Tina Turner’s, Simply The Best. Now, Dad really can’t sing, so I put my fingers in my ears. When I took them out again he was saying a very rude word because he’d dropped his paintbrush and the pot he was painting got a big green squiggle all down it.

“Never mind. Make it look like a piece of seaweed,” I suggested.

“Seaweed? It was meant to be a leaping panther,” he said grumpily

If that green blob was meant to be a panther, then I’m a Brussels sprout! Still, I said nothing. I didn’t want to upset his artistic temperament. Besides, I needed to ask for extra pocket money, to make up for what I’d had to give Stu!

Then I remembered a really important question I had to ask.

“Dad,” I said. “Do you know where I can get a karaoke tape of the Spice Girls’ songs?”

“Haven’t a clue,” he said. He was being a real grump-pot. I knew his runny green panther had something to do with it.

So I rang Kenny. We’d all agreed to ask our parents about karaoke tapes and report back to her.

“You were my last hope, Lyndz,” she said sadly. “Have you asked Stu?”

I wouldn’t have thought of asking my rotten brother if the sky was blue, because I knew I’d never get the right answer. But everything was hanging on it. “I’ll report back later. Roger. Over and out,” I said.

Stu’s so-called ‘band’ was driving everyone in our house crazy. I’d seen various band members arrive and when I went up to my room, I could hear them thumping about in the attic. There was a twang and a crash, as if the guitar fell over, then a sound as if someone had dropped the drums.

And just then, like the lottery finger coming down and saying, “It’s you!”, I got a fantastic, ginormous, amazing idea as to how the Sleepover Club could beat everyone, especially the M&Ms, and win the school competition…

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The only person I managed to get on the phone was Fliss. Everyone else was out.

“We’ve drawn a blank on the karaoke tapes but I’ve thought of something else,” I told her.

“Tell me, tell me,” she squeaked.

I didn’t. Not straight away, anyway. Another brilliant bright idea had dawned.

“Lyndz? Are you still there?” I could hear Fliss saying.

“Yeah,” I answered. Then I said, “I don’t suppose by any teeny-weeny chance that you fancy the idea of a sleepover?”

“Do I? You bet! When?”

“Friday? Saturday? The sooner the better. We’ve got to start practising,” I said.

“The class heats are in two weeks’ time,” she said gloomily.

Talk about dropping a bombshell! I was gobsmacked. Two weeks? We’d never have our act ready by then. Why had nobody told me?

I said those same words to Fliss.

“But Mrs Weaver mentioned it yesterday, just after all that trouble with the M&Ms,” she said.

“I suppose I wasn’t listening. My mind was full of hate. Kill, kill, kill! Death to the M&Ms!” I said dramatically.

“Was that what you rung me about, then? No, not about killing the M&Ms. The sleepover?” she asked me.

“No. I only just thought of that. My other great, earth-shattering idea was about the music to go with our song,” I said.

“I know. You’re going to ask the Spice Girls’ band to play for us, I suppose,” she said.

“Ho, ho. Don’t be a moron,” I told her. “I was listening to Stu and his friends playing the other night and - “

“You’re not going to ask them?” she said. There was pure horror in her voice, as if I’d told her the M&Ms were about to be fried in toad juice and served up to her for lunch.

“Of course not! Can you imagine my big brother even setting foot in Cuddington Primary? It would ruin his street cred for all time! But it made me think, why don’t we accompany ourselves? We could borrow a guitar, and Frankie’s got a keyboard…”

“But none of us can play the guitar,” she pointed out.

“I know four chords. Stu showed me,” I said proudly. “That’s why the sleepover’s got to be held here, so he can teach me some more. Will you tell Rosie and Kenny, and I’ll keep trying to get Frankie. See you later, alligator!”

“In a while, crocodile,” she replied.

“Have a laugh, big giraffe!” I said. It was our latest signing-off game. We kept trying to think of new animals.

“Don’t get smelly pants, elephant!”

I snorted down the phone and laughed so loud, I must have deafened her. When I’d stopped laughing, which took ages, I told her I couldn’t think of any more animals.

“Don’t get fat, tabby cat. ‘Bye!” she said, and rang off.

I stared at the receiver after she’d gone. Then I stared at the Twix bar in my other hand. How did she know I was about to eat it? It’s not as if I’ve got a reputation for pigging out all the time… is it?

I searched the telephone for a tiny hidden camera that could have relayed a piccy of my choc bar, but there wasn’t one, of course. It was just my paranoia at being the fattest of us five friends.

Rosie’s the next fattest, she’s just sort of normal. Kenny is all muscle, Fliss is a natural stick insect, and Frankie is so tall that a few spare pounds wouldn’t show. She’s the luckiest, I think. I hope I grow taller soon.

My next big challenge was to ask Mum and Dad if I could have a sleepover. Although I kept my fingers crossed, I didn’t need to because Mum was great about it.

“You know I love having the house full of girls, instead of horrid, smelly boys,” she said.

I’m glad she agrees with me about boys. It must be because she’s given birth to four of them - and got Dad and our dog to cope with, too!

She repeated another of her favourite sayings: “Girls are far less trouble than boys.”