Mega Sleepover 1

“Look, if it’s because of Adam…” I started, without knowing how I was going to finish.

“We don’t mind, honest,” said Fliss.

“No,” said Lyndz. “I’ve got an uncle in a wheelchair.”

“So?” said Rosie. “What about it? This is nothing to do with Adam, you stupids. It’s the state my house is in.” And then she burst into tears.

She told us her dad was a builder. He’d bought the house to do up, but he’d met his girlfriend soon after they’d moved in. Now he’d gone off and left them in this amazing big house which Rosie said was a complete tip.

“He says he’ll fix it, but he never does. It’s horrible! There’s hardly any carpets. My bedroom’s got no paper on the walls.”

“We don’t care about wallpaper,” I said, trying to make her feel better.

“Well, I do,” she said, going through her gate and slamming it behind her. “It’s not fair. I hate everybody!” And she went up her path, sobbing.

All the others were looking at me as if to say, “Well, I hope you’re satisfied now.”

But I wasn’t. I felt terrible. I hadn’t meant to make her cry. I went straight home and asked my mum if we could please have another sleepover at my house. I even got down on my knees into my famous begging pose.

“Pretty please,” I said, “with cherries on the top.”

My mum looked down at me pretending to be a well-trained dog, and shook her head. “I don’t know what makes you think that performance is likely to persuade anyone,” she said.

But it did. I got straight on the phone and rang round.

“It’s on for tonight! Sleepover, at mine. Seven o’clock.”

“You’re wonderful,” I told my mum. “I’m your slave for ever. Whatever you desire, command and I will obey.”

My mum just grinned and kept on watching the news, but my dad said, “Right, that’s two cups of tea now and extra washing-up for a week.”

“It’s a deal,” I said. “You’re the best.” Thank goodness for groovy parents!

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I think they started to get suspicious that night when we were so keen to go to bed early. Usually I have to beg and plead with them to stay up late on a Friday for Friends. It’s my best programme! Coo-el. But there we go. Sometimes there are more important things even than Friends! So by eight o’clock we were all in our jimjams in my bedroom, talking really quietly.

Kenny and I were sharing a bed again, Lyndz and Felicity had got the bunks and Rosie was on the camp bed this time. She was looking like a wet weekend again, even though nobody had mentioned her outburst at the gate. It felt funny, because we were all thinking about it, even though we weren’t saying anything, if you see what I mean. It was as though there was an elephant standing in the corner but no one was mentioning the fact.

“Right, let’s get started,” said old bossy-boots Fliss. “Who’s doing the typing?”

I can tell you now what she’ll be when she grows up: a teacher! She’s always practising bossing us about.

“I’ll do it,” I said, turning my computer on. The others all crowded round me. “Right, I’m ready,” I said.

Then we all sat there looking at the blank screen.

“Dear Dave…” said Felicity. Then she sat there looking very pleased with herself.

“Oh, good start,” I said. “Well, that’s the hard bit over.”

“‘I really fancy you,’” said Kenny. “‘How about going out with me?’”

“That is so sad,” I said.

Rosie shook her head. “Brown Owl definitely wouldn’t say that.”

“So what would she say, clever clogs?” said Kenny.

“Something like: ‘I’ve seen you around school; you look like a nice person.’”

“You look like a nice person,” said Kenny in a whiny voice. “That’s so naff. Where’s the romance in that?”

“There’s no lurv in that,” agreed Lyndsey, getting all giggly. I could just see them starting each other off again.

“Listen! Listen,” I said. “Rosie’s right. It doesn’t have to be sloppy stuff. I’ll write down what she just said.”

“Then say something about how she likes country and western music,” said Rosie.

“Oh, yes,” said Fliss. “That’s important, Frankie. Don’t forget that bit.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve put that. Then what?”

“Put: ‘I’d like to go out with you. How about it?’” said Kenny.

I wrote: ‘I’d like to go out with you.’ Brown Owl wouldn’t say “how about it"!

“Anything else?”

“That’s enough, isn’t it?” said Rosie.

“Don’t we want to say where they could meet?”

“The bus station.”

“Outside the chippie.”

“The park gates.”

“Put: ‘I’ll be wearing a red carnation’,” said Kenny.

It was like a story we were making up. We could have put anything. Dave might turn up, but there was one bit we still hadn’t worked out.

“How on earth are we going to get Brown Owl there?”

“We’ll just choose a place where we know Brown Owl’s going to be,” said Kenny, as if that was the easiest thing in the world.

“Not at Brownies. She won’t want him turning up there,” said Fliss.