Sleepover Girls on Safari (3 page)

“Stop apologising!” Frankie told her. “We’re the Sleepover Club, right? There’s no way any of us is missing out on that safari.”

“But I don’t see what you can do.” Rosie sounded as if she’d given up hope. “Mum hasn’t got the money and that’s that.”

“I could help you.” A pink-looking Kirstin slipped out from behind the coats. “I wasn’t snooping,” she explained. “I just couldn’t help overhearing.”

Frankie’s eyes blazed with anger. “Did Emma put you up to this? I think it’s disgusting of you to eavesdrop on our conversation.”

Kirstin looked shocked. “Emma wouldn’t do anything like that. She’s crazy about you all. Every time she e-mails, she tells me the goss about you guys and all about the latest mad sleepover you had together.”

Frankie stared at her. “You mean like, a sleepover with us and Emma?”

“A sleepover with Emma and US?” Lyndz echoed.

“All of us together?” Kenny croaked.

“Under the same roof?” I added.

Kirstin giggled. “You Poms have a weird sense of humour, you know that? But I was trying to be serious. I’d really like to help you, Rosie, if you’ll let me. My olds always give me
way too much spending money. I’d like you to have it.” She smiled at Frankie. “I heard what you said and I know Emma would agree with you. You Sleepover girls should stick together.”

The bell rang to signal end of break.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” Kirstin asked Rosie. She swung her bag over her shoulder and went sprinting off to class.

“Help!” said Frankie in a strangled voice. “Tell me we didn’t have that incredibly disturbing conversation.”

We stared after Kirstin. With her healthy suntan and sunkissed blonde hair, she really did look exactly like a character from
South Beach.
But what on
earth
had Emma been telling her?

“Aaargh!” screamed Frankie. “Aaargh!!!!”

I couldn’t blame her for letting off steam. We’d been controlling ourselves heroically for HOURS. First we had to suffer all the way through double maths, then we were forced to share our dinner table with two tragic boys from Mr Pownall’s class. One of them had a massive bogey hanging out of his nose, which totally put us off our food.

Now we were huddled in a windy but happily bogey-free corner of the playground, trying to figure out what in the world was going on.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” wailed Frankie. “This situation is doing my head in. Emma and Emily HATE us. They always have and they always will. It’s like, a cosmic law!”

“So why would Emma tell someone she was a member of the Sleepover Club, when she totally despises us?” Lyndz pondered.

“A girl on totally the other side of the world,” I added.

Rosie was crumbling her sandwich into teeny-weeny pieces.

“Earth to Rosie,” Kenny teased. “You must be happy at any rate. It was well cool of Kirstin to offer you that dosh.”

Rosie looked more depressed than ever. “I can’t take it. Mum would hate me to take charity from a stranger.”

Frankie’s mouth fell open. “Rosie Cartwright, I can’t believe you said that. This is your big miracle! You don’t turn miracles down!”

“Yeah, how else are we going to get you to Gawdy Park?” said Kenny.

“You won’t let us ask our parents,” Lyndz pointed out.

“I can’t help it, it wouldn’t be right,” said poor Rosie.

Frankie scowled. “I don’t think you really want to go, or you wouldn’t give up so easily.”

I quickly put my arm round Rosie. “Of course she does, don’t you? You want to see lions and tigers, don’t you?”

“And the monkeys. Don’t forget the sweet little monkeys, Rosie-posie,” Lyndz said temptingly.

Rosie was torn between laughing and crying. “I’m not four, you know! Of course I want to come, you idiots!”

“Then take Kirstin’s cash and come!” Lyndz moaned. “The suspense is totally killing us.”

Rosie took a deep breath. “OK, I’ll do it.”

We stared at her. “Seriously? You’re REALLY coming?” I squeaked.

“Too right,” she said fiercely. “This is my miracle, like Frankie says. I’ll go and tell Kirstin now.”

Frankie punched the air. “Hallelujah! Rosie Cartwright has finally seen the light!”

“Erm, I don’t want to be negative,” said Kenny.

“Then don’t,” said Frankie rudely.

Kenny looked genuinely worried. “What’s Rosie going to tell her mum, about suddenly finding the money for the trip?” she asked.

“I never thought of that,” Frankie admitted.

“Bums! We’re such idiots,” groaned Lyndz.

“Then that’s it,” Rosie whispered. “That was my last chance.”

“Sorry, Rosie,” said Kenny humbly. “I didn’t mean to ruin your miracle.”

“We could try to dream up a really good story,” Frankie suggested.

“I can’t lie,” I told them. “You know I can’t. I totally go to pieces.”

“She’s hopeless,” Kenny agreed.

Frankie went unusually quiet and I could see her racking her brains. “All right,” she said at last. “Now you’d better brace yourselves. This is really going to shock you, and you’ll probably never hear me say this again, but I think it’s time we asked one of our parents for advice.”

Lyndz almost fell over. “Advice! Are you crazy?”

To my surprise Kenny said, “She’s right. The question is which parent? You know how weird grown-ups can get about money.”

“We could ask Fliss’s mum,” Lyndz suggested. “She’s pretty chilled these days.”

Kenny beamed. “That’s true, she is! What do you guys think?”

Everyone agreed, even Rosie. My mum has really mellowed since the twins were born but even so I was chuffed that my mates were willing to trust her with this incredibly delicate situation.

After school I ran ahead to make sure there were no icky, used Pampers lying around. The twins were still napping luckily. Mum was in the kitchen catching up on chores before the round of feeding and changing started all over again.

She looked touched when I said we needed her advice. “I bet you girls could do with a snack too,” she beamed.

My mates came in through the back door, on cue. “There’s some leftover trifle, if you girls want some?” Mum told them. “Hope you don’t mind if I get on with peeling these potatoes?”

That’s another change I have to thank the twins for. Ever since Mum had the babies, dieting’s gone right out the window! She says
salads don’t give her the stamina she needs to run around after four children.

“I’ll help,” Rosie told my mum shyly. “I’m a dynamite spud peeler.”

While Mum and Rosie got busy, I dished up trifle for everyone.

“Should I save some for Callum?” I called to Mum.

She shook her head. “He’s at his friend’s. James’s mum gives them treats galore.”

We quickly got stuck into our bowls of raspberry trifle. Frankie, the messiest ten year old in the entire world, ended up with a major whipped-cream moustache and lurid, raspberry-pink lips.

“You look like a mad clown!” Lyndz giggled.

“Yeah?” said Frankie. “Well you’ve got custard in your eyelashes, so there!”

My mum wiped her hands on a towel. “The twins will want their tea in ten minutes. So if you’re serious about that advice, we haven’t got long.”

I could see Rosie going beetroot red with misery. “I’ve got myself in a real mess,” she said, and poured out the whole story, up to the
moment Emma’s e-pal offered to give her the money for the trip.

Mum looked impressed. “She must like you.”

“She doesn’t even know me,” said Rosie. “Kirstin only came over from Australia a few days ago. She doesn’t know
any
of us.”

“She doesn’t know us, but she knows
of
us,” Frankie explained, making it sound as clear as mud.

Mum laughed. “You’re not telling me the Sleepover Club’s reputation has spread to Australia?”

“Apparently it has,” said Frankie, looking smug.

“I want to accept,” said Rosie earnestly, “but I don’t think it’s right. What do you think, Mrs Proudlove?”

“I agree with you, Rosie,” Mum said to everyone’s disappointment. “You shouldn’t take Kirstin’s money. But don’t worry, I’ll give it to you.”

Rosie started to protest.

“I’m not offering you a handout,” Mum explained. “I’m offering you a business deal. Come over on Saturday and bake some of your
gorgeous cookies. I’ll provide the ingredients, but you’ll be providing the labour. I want six batches so I can put some in the freezer. Callum and Andy adored the cookies you made for Fliss. You’d be doing me a big favour.”

“I would?” Rosie’s bottom lip quivered.

“Yes, you would,” said Mum firmly. “Is it a deal?”

“YES, YES, YES!!” yelped Frankie, going right over the top as usual. “She accepts, don’t you, Rosie-posie?”

Rosie was blinking back tears furiously. “OK, Mrs Proudlove,” she said when she could make her voice work. “It’s a deal.”

We all dived on Rosie, hugging her and messing up her hair. I was so happy I can’t tell you. Plus I was incredibly grateful to my mum for solving Rosie’s problem so brilliantly.

“I’ll call your mother and explain that you’ll be doing some chores for me on Saturday morning,” said Mum.

“But Rosie will be here already,” Lyndz giggled. “We all will.”

Mum looked blank. “Oh, yes, of course she will!” she said hastily.

I wagged my finger. “You forgot it was my turn to hold a sleepover, didn’t you?”

She looked embarrassed. “Actually I did. Look, you girls are always welcome, you know that. But small babies tend to disturb everyone’s sleep, and unusual comings and goings disturb small babies.”

I swallowed. Was Mum saying we had to cancel our safari sleepover?

“Suppose you had your sleepover in the lounge,” she suggested. “Would that be OK, girls?”

I brightened. “Excellent!”

“We could borrow a tent from Lyndz’s brothers,” said Frankie at once, “and pretend we’re on a proper African safari.”

This idea got us completely overexcited.

I was still buzzing as I was getting into bed. Everything was coming together. I even knew what my safari outfit was going to look like. Do you want to know? I planned to be wearing dark blue jeans with turn-ups, a pink t-shirt with a cartoon monkey on it and my favourite baby pink and blue trainers. Stylish or what!

I stretched out in my lovely comfy bed. Aaah! I could finally relax. Thanks to Mum’s creative problem solving, my mates were going to have a fabulous Safari Sleepover to remember.

Thursday morning got off to a brilliant start. I’d packed my school bag the night before, so I didn’t have the usual last-minute rush to find my pencil case and reading book. My shoes were polished. My clothes were washed and pressed and my ponytail had gone just right. My mates think I’m crazy to bother about stuff like that, but Mum always says, “If you look good on the outside, Fliss, you’ll feel better on the inside!” And I think that’s true.

“You’re looking chuffed with yourself,” Frankie whispered from behind as Mrs Weaver took the register.

“I’m just so excited about tomorrow,” I hissed back.

Rosie was visibly glowing with happiness. “Me too,” she mouthed.

Mrs Weaver was handing out tourist brochures with important info on Gawdy Castle Safari Park. On the cover was a picture of a full-grown lioness sprawling in the long grass with her cubs.

At first the boys acted like they were way too cool to even take an interest. Then they really got into it, swapping gory tales about man-eating tigers and reading out wildlife statistics. Boys are obsessed with world records, aren’t they? Even Ryan was raving on about the biggest this and the smallest that, and you’d think he’d have more sense.

Personally I didn’t care if something was the biggest or the smallest or even the most inbetweenest, I just wanted to see these gorgeous animals roaming in the wild. It would be the next best thing to visiting Africa or India or wherever. (Don’t tell the others, but I was a teensy bit hazy about where tigers actually come from.)

When Mrs Weaver told us that the forecast for Friday was sunshine and blue skies, I turned to give Frankie and Lyndz a big thumbs up.

That’s when I caught sight of Emma. She was staring blankly out of the window, ignoring her booklet, not taking part in the general safari park fever. Suddenly Emma sensed me watching. To my surprise she gave me a weak smile, then turned back to the window.

Things are getting way too weird round here, I thought. I couldn’t understand why Emma was being so nice or why Kirstin was under the impression that her e-pal was a fully paid-up member of the Sleepover Club. But I was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.

At break, while the others were playing a mad game of leapfrog on the field, I wandered off to find Emma.

She was sitting on the grass by herself, gloomily making a daisy chain. I checked I wasn’t about to sit in anything gross then plunked myself down beside her.

“How’s Emily doing?” I asked casually. “Any better?”

“Like you care,” Emma said bleakly. “But that’s OK. We don’t like you guys either. You’re always sniggering behind our backs.”

Excuse me! I thought. Frankie and Kenny might snigger, but I have a very sweet little giggle, thank you very much. But I was trying to win Emma’s confidence, so I just said, “What about Kirstin. Is she sightseeing again today?”

But Emma just jabbed her thumbnail viciously into a daisy stem and didn’t reply.

“Look, I’m not stupid,” I told her. “I know something’s wrong. And I know it’s got something to do with the Sleepover Club and Kirstin.”

“Do you really want to know what’s going on?” Emma said doubtfully.

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“OK, I’ll tell you. Kirstin lives right out in the Australian bush somewhere. She doesn’t even go to a proper school. She studies with the Air School or something.”

“Kirstin has flying lessons?” I gasped.

Emma gave a weary sigh. “Fliss, honestly,”
she said in her prissy voice. “The Air School is when they teach you on the radio and the Internet and whatever. The point is, she lives in the middle of nowhere, but she’s got all these friends, don’t ask me how. Every time she sent me an e-mail, she seemed to be having such a great time. I didn’t have anything to write about, except feuding with you guys, and getting my homework in on time. Again. So, well, I did this stupid thing—”

“What did you do?” I couldn’t imagine what Emma had done that could be so bad.

“I pretended you were my friends,” Emma said miserably. “I even told her you had sleepovers at my house.”

I didn’t know what to say.

She glared at me. “Well, go on! Run back and tell your little friends. Then you can all crack jokes about how pathetic I am.”

But I didn’t feel like joking. I didn’t even feel like smiling. I’d never heard anything so sad in my life.

“But why did you pick us if you hate us so much?” I blurted out.

Emma looked at me as if I was dense. “Don’t you get it? You guys have it all. You look so good for a start. You’re totally up to date. Even Kenny and she doesn’t even care about fashion.”

Boy, we must be cool, I thought. Even our enemies think we’re stylish.

Emma was still ticking off our positive qualities.

“Frankie is just so original. Plus she has a mad sense of humour. Kenny is ace at football. Let’s face it, she’s better than the boys.”

“That’s true,” I agreed.

“Rosie is really sweet and loyal. Lyndz is so good with animals, she’s like Cuddington’s Doctor Dolittle or something,” Emma’s voice cracked. “So now you know. It was stupid, just a stupid fantasy. I never imagined that Kirstin would come to visit. Now she expects me to hang out with you all the time. I had to tell her we’d had a silly misunderstanding. I feel awful lying to her. But I don’t know what to do!” Emma was furiously sniffing back tears.

I fished a clean tissue out of my pocket and gave it to Emma. “OK, Emma, blow your nose,”
I told her firmly. “I want you to listen carefully, because I just might have a plan.”

By the time morning break was over, an outrageous alliance had been formed between the Sleepover Club and the non-nit-infested member of the M&Ms. Of course, when I say the Sleepover Club, I really mean me, Fliss. The others still had no idea of the scheme I was cooking up.

And as it turned out, I couldn’t tell them until afternoon break. Cause Kenny had football practice at lunchtime. I shared out my family pack of Maltesers, then I dropped my bombshell.

My friends could not have looked more horrified if I’d grown a beard.

Frankie choked on her sweet. “Tell me you’re joking,” she said, when we’d finished banging her on the back.

I shook my head. “I’m not joking.”

“NO WAY!” yelled Frankie. “I’m not pretending to be Emma’s friend for one second, let alone an entire day.”

Lyndz looked as furious as Frankie. “Fliss, this is the class trip we’re talking about! We’ve been looking forward to it for aeons.”

“I know,” I said guiltily. “But—”

“But nothing. We can’t enjoy ourselves with poisonous Emma tagging along.”

“Kirstin will be there too,” I pointed out. “Kirstin’s way cool.”

“You can invite Britney Spears for all I care,” said Frankie sourly. “We still won’t have a good time. I can’t believe you’ve actually been fraternising with the enemy.”

I felt terrible when Frankie put it like that, but I still thought I was right. “You didn’t see her,” I said miserably. “She looked so, I don’t know, ashamed. I know if I was feeling that bad, one of you would try to help. But Emma’s only got Emily.”

There was a long silence.

“She does have a point,” Kenny admitted.

“A very minor point,” Frankie scowled.

“Imagine if the only person you could rely on was Emily,” said Lyndz.

“Nightmare,” shivered Kenny.

“And then Emily gets nits,” I said.

“It wouldn’t kill us to help Emma, would it?” Rosie asked.

“We could take a vote,” suggested Lyndz.

“We don’t need to vote.” Frankie stood up.

Here we go, I thought drearily.

I almost fell over with shock when she said, “I say we help Emma out. No matter how smelly she is!” she added with an evil grin.

I stared at her. “Seriously?”

“Kirstin believes we’re super cool. Let’s keep it that way.”

Frankie’s change of heart took my breath away.

“We’ll call it Operation Pretend Friend,” suggested Rosie.

“Coo-ell,” everyone giggled.

“So when does it start?” said Lyndz.

“O800 hours tomorrow.” Frankie sounded like a soldier in a movie.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Lyndz warned.

“Yeah, we’re constantly going to have to watch what we say.” Kenny looked genuinely alarmed. “We don’t actually have to be nice to Emma, do we?”

“Nice as pie,” Frankie said sweetly. “Your face muscles will ache from all that fake smiling.”

“It might be fun,” said Rosie in a brave voice.

Kenny gave a yelp of laughter. “You sound like my mum when she’s taking me to the dentist.”

“At least dentists give you laughing gas,” sighed Lyndz. “We’ve got to face Emma stone cold sober. What? What did I say?”

We’d gone into total hysterics. We kept trying to explain we weren’t laughing at her, but that just sent us off into more mad hoots of laughter, and eventually Lyndz was laughing equally helplessly, though she had no idea what she was laughing at. We laughed until we were totally exhausted, then Kenny said weakly, “Oh, no! Stone cold sober!” And off we went again.

Thursday night is Mum’s evening to go to her Keep Fit class and Andy and I were left in charge of the littlies. My stepdad is really easy to talk to, so I found myself telling him about Operation Pretend Friend, while I helped him bath the babies.

“Sounds dodgy to me,” he said bluntly. “Lying has a nasty habit of getting out of control: ‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave!’ and all that.”

“It’s not really lying,” I protested. “More like play acting. It’s in a good cause.”

“Sorry, princess, I don’t think good can come out of lies. I really admire you though, for trying to help your little mate.”

“But she’s not my little mate,” I wailed. “I HATE Emma. At least I used to. Now I’m just confused!”

“Here, put a nappy on him quick before anything leaks out,” Andy commanded, passing me a very pink, clean Joe. He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Too late!”

When Joe and Hannah were finally tucked up in their little cots, Andy went to find Callum and tell him a story. It’s the same one he tells my brother every night. Well, it’s not exactly a story. Andy recites a long list of all the tools he uses on the building site, in a really peaceful, singsong voice, and eventually Callum goes glassy eyed and falls asleep.

I left Andy murmuring about hammers and pliers and escaped into the rosy pink privacy of my room. I was feeling abnormally stressed so I took my jumpers out of my wardrobe and refolded them really slowly, to calm myself down.

I hated to admit it but my down-to-earth stepdad had a point. I’d been so fixated on my rescue mission that I hadn’t really thought about the consequences. I was trying to stop Emma getting hurt. But if the truth came out, someone else might get hurt – like Kirstin, or even me!

I suddenly felt sick. Suppose Andy was right and Operation Pretend Friend backfired? Our safari trip would be ruined. My mates would think it was my fault. What’s more, they’d be right.