Authors: Narinder Dhami
by Narinder Dhami
“I’m having first go!”
Kenny charged into the bedroom, elbowing the rest of us out of the way. We all squealed loudly, as she sent us flying in all directions.
“No, you’re not,” Frankie said firmly, sticking her foot out and tripping Kenny up. “It’s
“Ow!” Kenny yelled. She fell forward, and collapsed face-down on the bed. “You little toad, Francesca Thomas!”
“Get her!” Rosie shouted, and we all piled in on top of Kenny, screaming and laughing.
Just another normal sleepover, right? Right! You remember all of us, don’t you? The Sleepover Club? Well, if you don’t, you’ll soon work it out!
“I think we should let Fliss have first go,” Rosie said in a muffled voice. Frankie was sitting on her head. “After all, she’s the only one of us now who hasn’t got a computer at home.”
Fliss’s stepdad Andy did normally have a computer, but it was away being fixed.
(who shall remain nameless) had spilt nail varnish remover all over the keyboard, and it had gone bonkers!
“Nah, I reckon we should arm-wrestle each other, and the winner gets to go first!” Kenny argued, trying to push me off the bed. I banged into Fliss, and she slid off the duvet and landed on the floor on her backside with a THWACK.
“No, I reckon the
person should get first go,” Frankie said, rolling off Rosie.
“Oh yeah, you would say that,
” Kenny scoffed.
“How about the most
Rosie suggested, sitting up and looking smug.
“Oh, you mean
” Kenny grinned.
“Thanks a lot,” I said. “I’m not
The reason why we were all fighting over who’d get first go on the computer was because we now had our very own website on the Internet. Yep, the Sleepover Club was online! I don’t know if you remember, but we entered a competition to design a Home Page, and we won one of the runners-up prizes, which was to have our Sleepover Club site on the Net. We had a special section where people could send us messages, which was totally
, and we were always arguing over whose turn it was to check them. So far we’d got emails from places like Canada, Norway and Germany – oh, and from Maria and our mates in Spain. (We met them when we went on that school trip, remember?)
“Rosie’s right,” Frankie agreed. “Let Fliss have first go.”
“So long as she hasn’t got any nail varnish remover in her bag,” I said meaningfully.
Fliss wasn’t listening. She was too busy rubbing her bottom, and staring round the room.
“Why do boys’ bedrooms always
funny?” she asked, wrinkling up her nose.
My brother Tom’s room was a complete tip. There were clothes all over the bed and on the floor, and the desk was covered with paints and books and CDs.
“It’s all those horrible smelly socks,” Kenny replied. She scooped one off the floor and threw it at Fliss. It hit her smack on the nose.
“Kenny! Don’t be so disgusting!” Fliss howled, as everyone else collapsed in giggles.
“Come on, Fliss,” I said quickly, before she had a fit. “Frankie’s right.
have first go.”
“Why’s the computer in here, anyway, Lyndz?” Rosie asked, as Fliss sat down at the desk. “The Sleepover Club won it, after all.”
We’d won the computer in a radio competition in the summer, and the others were letting me look after it. But that’s a whole different story!
“Well, Dad’s converting the loft into a study,” I explained, switching the monitor on, “but there’s nowhere else for the computer to go for the moment.”
doing stuff around the house. One minute a wall’s there – the next, it isn’t! It’s like living on a building site.
“It’s not fair,” Fliss grumbled, flicking her hair off her face. “We’re the only ones who haven’t got a computer now.”
“And whose fault is that?” Kenny snorted.
Fliss ignored her. “I’m going to ask Mum to buy me and Callum one of our own for Christmas.”
Kenny winked at us. “I thought your mum asked you if you wanted your own computer
Fliss turned pink. “Um – she did,” she admitted. “But she said if I got a computer, I couldn’t have a whole load of new clothes. So…”
“You went for the clothes,” Frankie grinned. “Surprise, surprise!”
Fliss is totally the Queen of Clothes. She’s got so many, Kenny says it would take
her ten years to get around to wearing them all.
“So?” Fliss said crossly. “I
clothes! I mean, you can’t wear a computer, can you?”
“Ooh, I don’t know about that.” Kenny picked up the keyboard, and balanced it on her head. “And here comes Kenny McKenzie, the first female footballer to play for England, modelling the latest in headgear!”
“Kenny, put it down,” I warned her, as the others giggled. “You’ll drop it!”
“Stay cool, Lyndz,” Kenny said airily, strutting up and down like a supermodel beside the desk. “Look, no hands – oh no!”
Frankie, Rosie and me leapt forward, and grabbed for the keyboard as it fell to the ground. Frankie caught it, one-handed, just before it hit the carpet.
“Nice one, Frankie,” Kenny said, looking relieved. “That was a great save – you ought to play for Leicester City! And talking of Leicester City—”
“NO!” the rest of us chorused loudly. Whenever we put any of our computers on,
Kenny always wants to look at mega-boring footie sites.
We had to wait a few seconds for the computer to connect to the Net, then Fliss typed our website address in the box. The Home Page of our site popped up, and we all cheered. We do that
“Oh no, I’ve got to change that stupid photo of me,” Frankie groaned, covering her eyes. “I look like I’m about to be sick!”
“You always look like that,” Kenny replied, and got an elbow in the ribs.
We’ve all got our photos on there, underneath
The Sleepover Club
banner. Mine’s not too bad, but Kenny’s pulling this totally gruesome face – of course! There are sections called
Spooky Sleepover Stories
, and loads of information about all the things we get up to when we have sleepovers.
“It’s a shame we can’t add some more stuff to the site,” Kenny grumbled, as Fliss checked the messages section. “We could give people tips on how to set up their own Sleepover Club.”
“Yeah, and how to get into loads of trouble at the same time!” Rosie added with a grin.
It’s true, we
kind of get into trouble every so often, although it’s never really our fault. My mum says that wherever the Sleepover Club goes, trouble’s never far behind! But what do The Olds know?
add stuff to the site if we want to,” Frankie said. “My dad’s really got into the Net, and he’s doing an evening class in web design. So he’ll be able to give us a hand.”
“Oooh, a message!” Fliss squealed excitedly, bouncing up and down in the chair. “A new message!”
We all crowded round the computer.
“Who sent it?” Kenny asked, “Is it from Chantal in Canada?”
“Is it from Anna in Norway?” Rosie wanted to know.
“Maybe it’s from Maria and the others,” I suggested.
“Come on, Fliss, get a move on!” Frankie moaned.
“I’m doing my best!” Fliss retorted, fiddling with the mouse. “But it’s taking
“What does that little paperclip thing mean?” Kenny asked, pointing at the screen.
“That means there’s something attached to the email,” Frankie said. “It could be photos or something.”
We were all dead excited. As soon as the email opened up, we all stared at the screen eagerly.
“Hey, it’s from the States!” Kenny gasped. “Cool, or what, dude!”
“I can’t see,” Rosie complained, trying to look over Frankie’s shoulder. “Read it out, Fliss.”
Hi, Frankie, Fliss, Kenny, Rosie and Lyndz! We are four girls from Miami who saw your site and think it’s just so cool! Our names are Darlene, Barbie, Jennie and Shannon, and we’ve attached some photos so that you can see what we look like. We love sleepovers, and we’re going to start our own club – if our moms and dads let us. They say we get into too much trouble when we’re all together, though – just because we accidentally lost Barbie’s dog last weekend! (We found him though.) Please email us back!
“Click on that bit at the bottom of the screen, Fliss,” Frankie told her. “Then we can see their photos.”
We all waited impatiently for the pictures to load. When they did, the four girls looked really cool. Shannon and Jennie were twins who looked
the same. Barbie had long black hair and was really pretty, and Darlene was pulling this horrible face that was nearly as bad as Kenny’s!
“Shall I write back?” Fliss asked eagerly, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. “What shall I say?”
“Put – Dear Barbie, Jennie, Shannon and Darlene,” Rosie began.