Trick or Treat (2 page)

Which only goes to prove, you can’t keep a Sleepover girl down.

Fliss may be the world’s most finicky fusspot but she can still play a wicked ghost when she wants to. Frankie said it was the moans that made her so spooky, but I reckon it was the sleeping bag over the head. You should’ve heard our screams as we tried to bunny-hop our way over to Frankie’s. Reckon the whole of Cuddington did. All the dogs in the neighbourhood went mad, barking and
howling, especially Pepsi, Frankie’s dog. Frankie’s mum said we nearly gave her a heart attack.

Hey, have you ever noticed how screaming makes you starving hungry? It does, you know, because after the Sack Race of the Century everyone was ready for Round Two of the sleepover feast.

Luckily we had masses of stuff.

As well as all the sweets, we had almost-black sausages on sticks, Marmite sandwiches, black grape squash and Fliss’s Black Forest cake. We laid everything out in the middle of Frankie’s bedroom floor and made a magic circle round the edge of it with her stone collection. It looked dead good. Then we did a little witch dance around it, holding hands and chanting, “Feast, Feast, Feast…”

Pepsi went barmy, especially when Frankie held her paws so she could dance with us on her back legs.

“Ta-daa!” went Rosie. “It’s Pepsi the doggie dance star!”

“Woof, woof!”

“Take a bow, Pepsi,” said Frankie and Pepsi actually bent her daft black head.

“Woof! Woof, woof!” She loved it.

After that we got down to some serious eating. When we’d demolished the lot, we flopped on the floor, stuffed, and told each other Hallowe’en jokes. They were daft, but they made you laugh. Here are some of my favourites:

Question:
Why does a witch ride a broomstick?

Answer:
Because a vacuum cleaner’s too heavy.

Question:
What’s a witch’s favourite computer programme?

Answer:
Spellcheck

Question:
What big, green and smells?

Answer:
A witch’s nose.

Good, aren’t they? My very very best, favourite was:

Lovestruck witch to handsome prince:
What do I have to give you to make you kiss me?

Prince:
Chloroform!

That one cracked us all up.

Lyndz laughed so much she got the hiccups. “Hic! What a lovely surprise for the handsome prince when he came round!”

“Talking of surprises…” I said. “That reminds me.”

“What?”

“Molly’s in for a massive surprise tonight.”

“What is it?”

“Tell us!”

I giggled. “A huge hairy spider, hiding in her pyjamas.”

“Wicked!”

“Serves her right!”

Frankie put her witch mask back on. (She’d only taken it off so she could eat.) “Heh, heh heh. There came a big spider, that
sat down beside her…” she cackled.

“A spider in your pyjamas is so creepy,” shuddered Fliss dramatically. “I’d just die!”

“A spider won’t stop Molly messing up our sleepovers,” Rosie pointed out. Told you Rosie was dead practical and down-to-earth. “We’ve got to do more than that to stop her.”

“Rosie’s right. Molly’s got swimming practice every Saturday ’til the school gala. We’ve got to stop her.”

“We could snip the straps off her swimming costume,” giggled Lyndz, who wouldn’t really hurt a fly.

“Or drain the school pool,” laughed Rosie.

But Frankie was deadly serious. “Why don’t we put a spell on Molly?”

We all stared at her.

“Like what?”

“We could make her so allergic to water she comes out in boils!”

“Er…” I think Frankie was getting a bit carried away with that spooky mask.

“We have to do something, Kenny! Molly’s trying to mess up our whole Sleepover Club.”

Frankie was right about that, and I could see the others agreed. This was serious. If we didn’t put a stop to Molly’s tricks the whole club was in danger.

“We-ell…” I said in the end, “I could gatecrash her swimming session tomorrow.”

“And do what?”

“Just swim.” (Secretly I was hoping to find a way out of putting nasty spells on my sister, even if she did deserve it.) “I’m a better swimmer than Molly and that really makes her mad.”

“Hmmm…” said Frankie.

“I can tell her I’ll be there every Saturday unless she stops trying to ruin our sleepovers.”

“Maybe…”

“They’ll let me into the school pool cos I’m Molly’s sister.”

Frankie thought for a moment longer. “Okay, go to the swimming pool tomorrow…And Kenny?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure you show Molly who’s boss.”

“Right.”

Next morning I got to Molly’s school bright and early.

Outside it was cold and foggy, but inside the pool had that lovely warm, fuggy, chlorine smell. Mind you, I wasn’t warm enough to jump in yet. Besides, it was so fogged with steam, I couldn’t see Molly at all. So I just stood by the edge, covered in goose pimples, trying to make out one school swimming costume from another.

But that didn’t stop Molly the Monster from coming up behind me and making me jump out of my skin. “What are you doing here?” she snarled.

“Mum said I could.”

“Liar!” Dripping cold water on to me, Molly stuck her big, wet face into mine. “Mum’s already after you for putting that spider in my pyjamas, you little—”

“Oh dear…” I went, all innocent. “Didn’t you like my little Hallowe’en surprise, then?”

Molly turned purple. “Get out of here,” she hissed. “This is my school pool and my swimming practice.”

“You don’t own it. I can swim if I want to…” I began.

Molly’s face was awful. “Go on then,” she snarled. “Swim!”

And she pushed me so hard, I toppled and fell backwards into the pool… splat!

The water hit me across my shoulders like a steel whip and sent shock waves down my body. Down and down I went, gulping and kicking like mad. It was horrible. Horrible and nasty and scary and it seemed to go on forever. It was so bad that when I finally bobbed up, spluttering and gasping for air, I was determined to do one thing.

Beat Molly. As soon as Molly’s team was ready for the three-length race, I got into position in an empty lane. No one even noticed me.

They soon would.

When the swimming instructor blew his whistle, I pushed my feet against the side of the pool with total force, and swam and swam as fast as I could. One two, one two, kick, kick, kick. Dip head, lift-and-gasp, swim, swim, swim. Faster, faster, faster. One length, dive-down touch and turn, swim, swim, swim. One length, two…

From somewhere far off there was a muzzy shouting, but my head seemed like it was in another place and time. I swam and swam, fast, faster, faster.

I cut through the water with my arms, kicking hard with my legs, right on to the end… and made it in second place.

YES!

Second place, beating Molly by one! You should’ve seen her face! The school swimming instructor was dead impressed (even if I wasn’t supposed to be in the race). “What a shame you don’t go to our school,” he smiled, when I’d explained who I was. “We could use someone with your speed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, young lady, will you let us get on with our practice?”

“Yes sir.”

He didn’t seem to mind a bit that I’d joined in their race. In fact he was really nice.

As I made my way to the changing rooms, I felt so mixed up and funny, it was weird. I was proud and worried at the same time. Proud because of coming second and worried because of Molly’s jealousy. But there was one thing I wasn’t mixed up about.

Molly.

She’d come third in the race when I’d come second. And that could only mean one thing.

War.

“Laura! Is that you?”

Uh-oh. Mum didn’t sound best pleased.

“Can’t stop, Mum! I only came to pick up…”

“Laura! Come in here.” Even with a mouthful of roller clips Mum could sound fierce. “I want a word with you, my girl.”

I poked my head round the kitchen door. Phew! Mum was in the middle of doing a glamorous granny’s hair and she’d never tell me off in front of a customer…

Famous last words.

Not only did Mum have a real go at me, but her customer, Mrs Bramley, joined in too. The interfering old granny tut-tutted and nodded ’til every roller on her blue-rinsed head shook.

It was well humiliating.

“Fancy spoiling Molly’s swimming practice! I’m surprised at you, Laura. And as for planting a spider in her pyjamas…” Mum went on and on. She used words like ‘sneaky’ and ‘mean’ and, worst of all, ‘disappointed’. My mum can make ‘disappointed’ sound the ugliest word in the world.

Then she dropped her bombshell.

“So you can forget sleepovers here.”

“WHAT?!”

“Anyone who can wilfully spoil her sister’s sleepover doesn’t deserve to have her own!” Mum jabbed a roller clip into Mrs Bramley’s scalp so hard, the glamorous old granny flinched.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, Mrs Bramley.”

“Mum, you can’t stop sleepovers!” I began.

“Oh, can’t I?”

“In my day we did what our mothers said…” Mrs Bramley muttered, rubbing her sore head.

“Please, Mu-um! Please, please, pleeease…”

“One more word and I’ll get all sleepovers banned,” warned Mum. “Molly said it, and the more I think about it, the more I see her point…”

“S-said what?”

“That it’s on sleepover nights when the trouble starts.”

A cold shiver went through me then. Now I knew what Molly was up to. She was trying to get the Sleepover Club banned for good.

“It’s not fair!” I burst out. “Not fair!” And in floods of tears, I raced up to the bathroom and locked myself in for a good cry.

It wasn’t fair. How could I explain to Mum that the reason I went to Molly’s swimming practice was to stop the gang from casting a spell on her? All my good turns end up with
me in trouble. Nobody appreciates me.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, sitting on the lid of the toilet, bawling my eyes out. All I know is I used up a whole toilet roll. Then, just as I got to the dry-eyed and puffy-faced stage, I heard something through the bathroom wall. Molly the Monster and Silly Jilly were in the bedroom talking. And Molly sounded worried…

“If goody-goody Robin Hughes has his way, Chess Club will meet Saturday mornings! What’ll I do about swimming practice then?”

“Well you can’t do both. You’re in the Chess Club Tournament.”

“I know. Robin Hughes is such a nerd,” moaned Molly. “He’s sure to get his way.”

“Yeah. The teachers love him.”

“Like all the Hughes lot. His rotten cousin, Emma, is in my rotten sister’s class.”

Robin Hughes was one of the dreaded M&Ms’ cousins! That was a hot piece of news. But hot or not, Jilly’s next words made me go cold.

“Your rotten sister’s gonna go ballistic when she finds out about her rat…”

Merlin! My lovely soft, twitchy-nosed pet. What had they done to him? I leapt up and stormed into the bedroom, puffy-faced and panting.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MERLIN!?”

The two conspirators looked up guiltily.

“WELL?”

Molly gave a slow shrug. “We never touched him.” But I could tell from the smirky way she slid her eyes over to Jilly that something was up.

In a blind panic, I raced to the garage where I kept Merlin.

Please be all right, Merlin, I prayed. Please be all right.

But the door to my pet’s cage was open, and his dear little home was empty.

Merlin was gone.