Hey Baby! (3 page)

In we went. We’d agreed that Rosie was dealing with Spud. Luckily she can wind him round her finger. As the rest of us slid past, we heard her say sweetly, “Hiya Spud.”

Actually I’m beginning to think she has hidden depths. In fact I’m dead jealous. You see, my original plan was for Rosie to pretend she’d twisted her ankle. But Kenny sensibly pointed out that Rosie’s mum would then naturally rush her off to Leicester Royal Infirmary for X-rays. “And by the time she’s spent three hours in casualty and found out Rosie’s faking, she’s going to be really mad,” she said.

Kenny’s big on anything medical. She’s going to be a doctor like her dad. She was right, too. If Rosie’s mum suspected a set-up, we’d never get our sleepover, not to mention the fact that Rosie would be in doom for ever!

Then Rosie came up with a wicked variation on my plan. I wasn’t too sure she’d pull it off. I don’t want to boast, but I’m the actress, right? Yeah, yeah, don’t get your undies in a twist. I’ll get to the point, if you give me a chance.

Where was I? Yeah, the Happy Shopper. Well, the rest of us were acting all innocent, filling our basket with Special Offer snowballs (snowballs are the Sleepover Club’s new obsession. They’re dee-licious white squidgy things coated in coconut, if you don’t know) when Spud came skidding round the corner.

“Tiff, Tiff!” he croaked. “Rosie’s fainted.”

That boy’s wasted as a footballer. He should go on stage!

Tiff jumped up and went sprinting down the aisles. We flocked after her like anxious little lambs.

Rosie was stretched out on the floor with her eyes closed. When Fliss saw her, she gave a huge gulp as if she felt faint too. Fainting’s catching, I don’t know why.

“Are you sure she’s not pretending?” Tiff whispered. She patted her sister’s cheek. “Rosie?” she said. Rosie’s eyelids fluttered and she gave a moan.

“Tiff?” she croaked. “What happened? Where am I?” Rosie opened her eyes and looked round.

Was that an Oscar-winning faint or what!

“Tiff, I just remembered,” I said. “Someone pinched Rosie’s lunch at school.”

“Yeah, poor Rosie. She only had a couple of Skittles, didn’t she Lyndz?” Kenny said, keeping a wickedly straight face.

Lyndz just nodded. “Mmm,” she mumbled, terrified her hiccups would start up and wreck everything.

“Her blood sugar probably dropped to zero,” Kenny added.

“It’s OK, Rosie,” said Tiff. “You fainted, that’s all.”

“She’s all right now, aren’t you, Rosie?” I said.

Rosie sat up. “I’m fine,” she said feebly. “I just need to go home and eat something. Tiff, will you take me? I feel a bit wobbly.”

Didn’t we all!

“I’ll take you,” said Spud quickly. “Tiffany can’t leave the till, can you?”

She blushed and shook her head. And then and there, Spud picked Rosie up in his arms and strode out with her. Well, he did stagger a teensy bit, but it was still totally and utterly brilliant.

Tiff stared after him, looking almost as woozy as Rosie.

“Spud is such a star,” sighed Kenny. “He seemed really upset about something though, didn’t you think, Frankie?”

“Yeah, sort of haunted.” I jumped as if I’d forgotten Tiff was there. “Ooh, sorry, Tiffany. Nearly forgot to pay for these,” I said.

Fliss gazed mistily through the window, still acting her socks off. “Poor Spud,” she said. “What in the world could be making him so-o-o sad?”

I deliberately didn’t look at Tiff but I heard her give a little gasp of sorrow, so I just knew we’d got a result!

I couldn’t wait to ring Rosie and find out if our plan was working. But in the end I had to wait after all.

That night the Cartwrights’ phone was engaged for hours. Mum kept telling me to go to bed, but I insisted I had to know if Rosie was OK. “Or what kind of friend would I be?” I demanded.

“Hmm,” said Mum, looking dead suspicious. I had to distract her by admiring her latest Mothercare buys. Actually, I think being pregnant is sending Mum slightly off her head. I’m sure she’s buying doll’s clothes by mistake. There’s no way a real person could fit into those dinky little things!

Finally I got through to Rosie. “Feeling better, poor little Rosie-Posie?” I giggled. “Or did Spud drop you on your head?”

“Don’t make me laugh,” whispered Rosie. “I can’t talk now.”

“Just tell me the important bit. Did we get a result? Yes or no will do!”

“Yes,” Rosie breathed in my ear.

“YES!” I punched the air.

“Rosie’s feeling better now, I presume,” Mum called in that sarky tone grown-ups use when they think they see right through you.

“So is our sleepover safe or not, Rosie?” I hissed.

“It’s safe,” Rosie hissed back. “But there’s… erm… a complication.”

“Another one?” I yelped. “Like what?”

“I’ll explain tomorrow,” she said. “Gotta go. I’ve got to tidy my room for our sleepover.”

Rosie and her mum are paranoid about visitors. Even us, Rosie’s very best friends. When they first moved here, Rosie’s dad did all this radical DIY – hacked off plaster and generally bashed the place about. Then he walked out for ever, leaving them in a house that looks like a bomb site. Her Dad says he’s going to come and help do things up, but he never gets round to it.

I put down the phone feeling mega fed up. I was going to have to wait all night to find out what Rosie was on about. Don’t you just hate that!!

I couldn’t believe it. First Rosie makes me wait all night, then next day she didn’t even show up!

“I bet she’s really ill now,” said Fliss. “I knew she shouldn’t have faked that faint. This sleepover’s totally doomed.” Fliss is dead superstitious.

“Double doomed,” grumbled Kenny. Kenny isn’t superstitious at all. She was just in a really bad mood!

To our relief Rosie appeared after lunch. “Mum only dragged me to the doctor’s,” she said, pulling a face.

Her mum wanted to make sure Rosie didn’t have some fatal fainting disease. The doctor said Rosie was as fit as a frog, which she thought was really rude. “I hate Doctor Mackie,” moaned Rosie. “He treats me as if I was five. And I hate that gruesome shoehorn he uses to see your tonsils. Yuk!”

Kenny’s eyes gleamed. “They’re called tongue depressors,” she said. “I can’t wait to use one.”

“So what’s this new problem, Rosie?” By this time I was beginning to think Rosie’s sleepover was under a curse too!

Rosie took a deep breath. “Mum’s been invited to the Harrisons. It’s some big welcome party for the Quormbys. They’re the ones with the baby, remember?”

“Tiff will be home though, won’t she?” asked Fliss.

“Kind of,” said Rosie uncomfortably.

“You’re so weird, Rosie,” giggled Lyndz. “How can someone be ‘kind of’ home? She’s not invisible, like the Invisible Man, is she?”

“I meant she’ll be kind of busy,” explained Rosie. “With the baby. Usually the Quormbys take Morgan with them when they go out. But Mr Quormby thinks it’s time they used a babysitter. So Mum volunteered Tiff. That way, if anything goes wrong, they’ll only be over the road.”

“You said this sleepover was safe,” I groaned. “I wish your mum would make up her mind.”

“It is! She did!” said poor Rosie. “Only she thought our sleepover was off until last night, didn’t she? But now Tiff’s got back with Spud, she told Mum the sleepover’s cool with her.”

Honestly you’d think Tiffany was the Princess of Cuddington, the way Rosie goes on.

“But why isn’t Tiff babysitting for Morgan over at the Quormbys?” said Lyndz, puzzled.

“Well, that was the original plan. But Mum rang the Quormbys to explain about our sleepover. So now they’re bringing Morgan to our place. Mum swears the baby is totally no trouble. So you can all still come.” Rosie’s eyes were huge with worry. “It’s just that there’s going to be this little baby there. Is that OK? Or do you all really hate me?”

For some reason Rosie thinks we’ll go off her if she ever lets the Sleepover Club down, like once!

“It’s OK with me,” said Kenny looking round. “What about you lot?”

“I lurve little babies,” said Fliss.

“What about Frankie?” asked Rosie.

“It’s cool,” I said. “I need all the big-sister practice I can get.”

“Lyndz?”

“No problem. Sounds just like home,” she said cheerfully. Lyndz has got four brothers, including a baby brother, Spike.

Rosie beamed with relief. “Thanks, guys! I was really—”

But then this sickly sweet singing started up, drowning her out.

You know when people try to sound like pop singers, but they can’t actually sing a note? And they still think they’re totally cool?

Yes, strange but true! It was the Gruesome Twosome, Emma and Emily, with their creepy backing singer Alana Banana, murdering Juice’s latest hit,
Forever Love
.

“Poor ole Juice,” giggled Lyndz. “Imagine being fancied by the M&Ms!”

“Imagine fancying Juice,” I said. “He needs a babysitter if you ask me. He’s got a real baby face.”

“That’s why he wears those huge trousers,” spluttered Kenny. “To make room for his nappy.”

I fell about. But Fliss went all huffy.

“Juice is sweet. And
Forever Love
is a brilliant song.”

“It’s OK so long as you don’t have to clock his nappy while he’s singing.”

I got the giggles again. We all did. Well, except Fliss.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” she said stiffly. “It’s not that funny.”

That set Lyndz off again. “Yes it is!” she spluttered. “Hic! Oh, no!” she wailed.

“Not again,” we groaned. We marched Lyndz off to the toilets and experimented with dropping her own door key down her neck a few times. But that just made her need to go to the loo. Then we all had to go – you know how it is.

But while we were in there, we discovered why the M&Ms were killing Juice’s song. We were wondering! (Probably you were too?)

Remember Kenny’s crack about the M&Ms having their own sad little sleepovers? Well, like Gran says, “Many a true word spoken in jest.”

You’ve guessed, haven’t you? Don’t laugh! This is deadly serious. Those little clones were planning the first M&M sleepover in history. Is that gruesome or what? We heard Alana tell Regina when we were in the loos.

Naturally the M&Ms don’t have a clue what normal kids do at sleepovers. So they were devoting the night to their new heartthrob. Playing Juice songs and sighing over stupid pop magazines, you know – the kind that describe pop stars’ favourite colours and what jelly they like. Gosh, bet you wish you’d been invited! (NOT!!)

Alana was trying to persuade Regina to sleep over with them. “We really want you to,” she whined.

“I bet they do,” Lyndz muttered, from the next cubicle. “Regina’s the only one who sings in tune.”

“Don’t go over to the dark side, Regina,” chanted a spooky voice from one of the toilets. It was Kenny. She’s such a laugh. But what she said was true too. Regina’s new to our school. And we still can’t work out if she’s in with the M&Ms or not. Like Gran says, she’s an unknown quantity.

When we came out and were washing our hands, Alana gave Kenny a spiteful look. “You girls are such babies,” she spat.