“Well, I think we should do something really cool and totally exciting,” said Kenny. “Something we’ve never done before, like hang-gliding. Or parachute jumps. Or mountain-climbing.”
We all fell about laughing. That’s Kenny for you. She’s totally mad. But you know that, don’t you? Or maybe you don’t! And if you don’t, where have you been all this time? Haven’t you heard of the Sleepover Club?
“There aren’t any mountains in Cuddington,” I pointed out. Cuddington’s the village where we all live. (What do you mean – who are we? Keep reading, and you’ll find out!)
“I wouldn’t jump out of an aeroplane,” Rosie said with a shudder. She took a drink of Coke, and put the can down on the grass. Kenny winked at me, and quickly dropped something into the open triangle on the top of the can. Rosie and Lyndz didn’t notice. “What if your parachute didn’t open?”
“Ker-splatttt!” Kenny said. “That’s what!”
“I don’t like heights,” Lyndz said. She opened a bag of prawn cocktail crisps and offered it round. “Anyway, I’d rather go riding.”
“Oh, you lot are so boring!” Kenny moaned. “Look, we’ve got six whole weeks of holidays, and we’ve got to decide what we’re going to do. Any ideas?”
We all thought for a bit. It was the last day of term, and we were sitting in the playground after lunch. In a few hours, we’d be free for the whole summer.
“We can have lots of sleepovers,” Lyndz suggested.
OK, so now you know why we’re called the Sleepover Club. Frankie, Kenny, Lyndz, Rosie and Fliss – that’s us.
“Yeah, we can talk about the holidays at the sleepover at Fliss’s place tonight,” I said.
“Where is Fliss, anyway?” Kenny asked.
“She said she had some books to return to the school library,” I replied. “She should be here in a minute.”
“Oh, well, she’ll only want to do girly things,” Kenny said, pulling a gruesome face.
“There’s loads of stuff on the school noticeboard,” Lyndz said, “all about summer camps and courses. There’s things going on at the local library too.”
“Maybe we should take a look,” Rosie said, having another drink. She tipped up the can to finish it, then frowned. “Hey, there’s something in here!”
“What?” Lyndz asked.
Rosie spat it out into her hand. “Urgh!” she yelled in disgust. “It’s a fingernail!”
“Is it one of yours?” Kenny asked, keeping a perfectly straight face. Meanwhile, Lyndz and I were in hysterics.
“No, why would I put a fingernail in my can of Coke?” Rosie screeched. Then she took a closer look. “Hang on, this is plastic!”
“Oh, sorry,” Kenny said innocently. “Did you want a real one?”
Rosie burst out laughing. “I’m going to kill you, Laura McKenzie!” she said between giggles.
“Let’s all help,” I said. “Get her!”
Kenny gave a yell as Rosie, Lyndz and I piled on top of her.
“No more jokes for the whole summer, Kenny!” I ordered her. “Is that a deal?”
“No way!” Kenny groaned. “If the summer’s going to be dead boring, I’m definitely going to carry on playing jokes.”
“There must be something we can do,” I said, as we all rolled off her. “What kind of things were on the noticeboard, Lyndz?”
“There’s a Book Week at the library,” Lyndz replied. “And a nature trail walk, and a visit to the local museum.”
“Cool,” Kenny said sarcastically. “I think I’m going to pass out with all the excitement!”
“Anything else?” Rosie asked.
“There’s a week’s tennis coaching at the local college,” Lyndz added.
“Tennis!” Kenny said in disgust. “I hate tennis. It’s so boring.”
We were a bit surprised. There’s not many sports Kenny doesn’t like.
“It’s so dull,” Kenny moaned. “All they do is hit a ball over a net.”
“Well, all footballers do is try to kick a ball into a net!” I pointed out. Kenny’s football-mad. But I knew what she meant. I wasn’t that keen on tennis either.
“And then it starts to rain, and everyone rushes inside like a bunch of wimps,” Kenny went on. “Footballers don’t do that.”
“Yeah, and what’s with those scores?” Rosie said. “I mean, fifteen, thirty, forty. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Then there’s all that love-this and love-that, too,” Lyndz chimed in. “And what’s that juice bit all about?”
“You mean deuce,” Kenny, Rosie and I said together.
“Oh.” Lyndz turned pink. “I thought it meant they were thirsty!”
We got the giggles then.
“You know what I hate,” Rosie said, when we’d calmed down a bit. “The way all the other TV programmes are taken off when Wimbledon’s on.”
“Oh, yeah,” I agreed. “We don’t get to see Neighbours for two whole weeks. How mean is that?”
“My mum’s mad on tennis,” Lyndz said. “She watches it all day, when it’s on.”
“So does our Tiff,” Rosie added.
“So does Molly the Monster,” Kenny said gloomily. That’s her sister, by the way.
“OK, so none of us like tennis,” I said. “Let’s forget about it, and decide what we want to do.”
“I can’t wait for next week,” said a snooty voice just behind us. “I’m really looking forward to the tennis coaching. Aren’t you, Emily?”
We knew who it was, of course. There’s only one person in the whole world who’s that snotty. Our arch-enemy, Emma Hughes, and her weedy little sidekick, Emily Berryman, also known as the M&Ms – or the Queen and the Goblin.
“And we’ll be able to practise at the Green Lawns club,” Emily said in her gruff, goblin-like voice. “I’m really glad we’ve joined.”
“Yes, it’s one of the best tennis clubs in England, you know,” the Queen said. She is such a big fat snob. “And don’t forget they’re having that special gala afternoon next week to celebrate the club being open for fifty years. That’ll be fun.”
OK, so we were listening. We couldn’t help it. It was so typical of the M&Ms to go around boasting at the top of their voices.
Emma Hughes spotted us earwigging. She put this face on like she’d just swallowed a whole lemon.
“Haven’t you lot got anything better to do than listen to other people’s conversations?” she snapped.
“No,” Kenny said.
That floored the Queen.
“Well, just mind your own business,” she said feebly.
Kenny shrugged. “I might’ve known those two wimps would be into tennis,” she said, loud enough for Emma and Emily to hear.
Emma glared at us. “And I might’ve known you idiots wouldn’t be,” she retorted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
The Queen and the Goblin smirked. “You lot wouldn’t be allowed into Green Lawns,” Emma Hughes sniffed snootily. “Tennis is a game for nice people who’ve got lots of money.”
“Are you saying we’re not posh enough for your stupid club?” Kenny was getting quite annoyed now. I glanced at Lyndz and Rosie. We might just have to sit on her again to stop her jumping on Emma!
“That’s right,” Emily said gruffly.
The Queen and the Goblin looked very pleased with themselves, because they thought they’d got one over on us. They soon stopped though, when Kenny took a step towards them.
“I wouldn’t want to be in any club that you two were members of, anyway!” Kenny snorted. “And tennis is a load of rubbish. You wouldn’t catch me playing a daft game like that.”
“Yeah, tennis is for wimps like you who are too scared to play proper games,” I joined in.
“So don’t worry,” Rosie added, “we wouldn’t be seen dead at your stupid tennis club.”
“Now push off and stop bothering us,” Lyndz finished up.
“Take no notice of them, Emma,” the Goblin muttered as they walked off with their noses in the air. “They’re just jealous.”
“I know,” the Queen agreed. “Wait till you see my two-handed backhand, Emily. It’s my best shot.” She swung out with an imaginary tennis racket, and hit the Goblin smack on the shoulder.
“Ow!” Emily yowled. Which had us all in fits, of course.
“Those two have got a nerve,” Kenny grumbled. She grabbed Lyndz’s empty crisp packet, blew it up and then burst it with a loud bang. “Fancy telling us we’re not posh enough to join their tennis club.”
“Yeah, fancy that!” I grinned.
“Well, now that we’re definitely not going to play tennis over the summer, what are we going to do?” Rosie asked.
“Here’s Fliss,” Lyndz said.
Fliss came hurrying across the playground towards us. She was looking pretty pleased with herself.
“Hiya, Flissy.” Kenny waved at her. “We’re just talking about what we’re going to do over the holidays.”
“Yeah, have you got any suggestions?” I asked.
“But not too girly,” Kenny added.
“We can’t think of anything much,” Lyndz said.
Fliss grinned at us.
“It’s all sorted,” she said. “Well, the first week of the holidays is, anyway. It’s going to be really excellent!”
We all sat up, looking interested.
“So what are we going to be doing?” Rosie asked eagerly.
Fliss beamed at us. “I’ve signed us all up for a week’s tennis coaching at the local college!”