Sleepover Club 2000 (2 page)

“I don’t know what I’ll wear,” moaned Rosie.

Me neither. It dawned on me, that I didn’t have anything in my whole wardrobe you could truly call
millennial.

Yippee! Time to go shopping, I thought.

We’d only been back in our class about five minutes when Mrs Weaver brought us down to earth with a bump.

But first I ought to explain that before we broke up for the Christmas holidays, we’d been given a special assignment. We were MEANT to get together with our group over the holidays and brainstorm ideas for whatto put in this kind of home-grown Millennium Dome our school was planning.

Well, we’d done the getting together part! Several times. But what with new babies, parties and future weddings, we kind of forgot the homework part.

Everyone else in our class started pulling out long lists and spidergrams and balsa-wood models and I don’t know what.

The M&Ms had put together this really slick presentation. They actually gave a TALK to the whole class without Mrs Weaver asking them to! How creepy is
that
!!!

One of them had obviously got a whizzy new computer for Christmas, because they’d printed off this, like,
mega
posh document, listing the most important points in their talk in case we forgot them. Then they strutted round the class, making a big hairy deal out of handing everyone their personal copy. “That way we can have a proper class discussion,” smirked Emma, sounding about forty-five years old.

“Yeah, right!” muttered Frankie.

I sat on my hands, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me. The others looked vaguely round the room. Well, except Kenny. She was busy making a paper aeroplane out of you know what!

Actually, I don’t think Mrs Weaver had a very nice Christmas. Because when she realised we hadn’t done our homework, she went into a total Cruella DeVil act.

“You’ll never get anywhere with this kind of sloppy attitude!” she fumed. “Everyone else in this class did as I asked. As a result, they have all earned the right to work on their favourite zones. But you girls will have to put up with whatever is left over!”

Can you guess what “whatever” turned out to be?

Ecology.

But if we thought
this
was bad, Mrs Weaver’s next words totally sent us into shock.

“I’m giving you one final chance,” she said. “But if you girls don’t come up with some really inspiring ideas for your zone by next Monday, you’ll be VERY sorry indeed.

“We stared at her, like Dalmatian puppies about to be turned into fur coats. We couldn’t believe our ears. That meant we’d have to spend our sacred sleepover weekend doing homework!

The M&Ms were loving every minute of it. They could afford to. All their sucking-up totally paid off. They’d landed the all-time coolest zone – the Media Zone. See what I mean? Those girls come up smelling of roses every time!

It was a really horrible morning. And it got even worse. At break time, Mrs Weaver made us all go outside, even though it was cold enough to freeze your eyeballs. We huddled together miserably in our usual corner of the playground and Kenny shared out some Cheesy Wotsits.

Lyndz looked a bit puzzled. “Why are we so upset?” she asked at last. “I thought ecology was a good thing. I mean, it’s about saving the planet, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Ecology is cool and fab and totally groovy,” snarled Kenny. “That’s why everyone else was falling over themselves to do it.”

She glared at the sky, which was filling rapidly with dirty yellow clouds. “Great! It’s going to snow,” she moaned.

My heart sank. Snow after Christmas has absolutely no point and should be banned.

Frankie collapsed dramatically against the wall. She pulls that kind of stunt all the time. She tells us she’s practising for when she’s a world-famous actress.

“This sleepover is doomed for ever,” she groaned. “I mean, ecology is about recycling, right? Cans and old newspapers and stuff? How depressing is THAT?”

Kenny cheered up. “Hey! We could do something about blood and guts. That’s ecology too.”

Rosie gulped. “For vampires maybe,” she said.

“I thought ecology was, like, mud and Nature,” I said.

The others gave me really funny looks. I hate it when they do that. It makes me feel totally stupid.

“OK, so what are those things, then?” I said sulkily. “You know, those tiny invisible things that live in mud?”

Kenny giggled. “Fliss, you’re such a wally! Like we’re not in enough trouble. And now you want us to fill an entire zone with invisible mud creatures!”

Everyone cracked up. Including me, I have to admit. Kenny’s such a laugh. And I bet you can guess what happened next, can’t you? That’s right!

Before you could say “hiccups”, Lyndz was hiccuping away like a fruit machine. Lyndz is
always
getting hiccups. She drives us crazy.

We started thumping her on the back. “It’s OK. They’ll go off, hic, in a minute,” she gasped. “Look, why can’t we do something about, hic, horses?” Lyndz is totally nuts about horses.

“Animals only count if they’re endangered,” said Kenny in a snooty voice.

“I can’t believe Mrs Weaver actually expects us to sacrifice our sleepover for
ecology
,” Frankie wailed. “I mean, ecology is so-o
sad
.”

“Not as sad as we’ll look if we don’t come up with something good by Monday,” Rosie pointed out.

“Yeah,” agreed Lyndz. “The, hic, honour of the entire Sleepover Club is at, hic, hic, stake.”

At this point I noticed a tiny flake of snow come circling down. Then another. And another. For some reason those little lonely snowflakes made me feel really helpless.

Frankie was right. Our sleepover was doomed.

I don’t feel very well, I thought. In fact, now I came to think about it, my skin felt funny. Hot and kind of sore. My head hurt too.

Well, if that doesn’t put the king in the cake, I thought miserably. I’m getting that bug after all. That evil millennium flu bug.

The first week of term was totally depressing. It didn’t even SNOW properly. There was just this really biting wind. And sometimes sleet battered our classroom windows. But on Friday morning, it finally snowed its little socks off!

By lunchtime all the school dustbins had acquired tall frothy hats. Frankie said they looked like giant cappuccinos.

In the afternoon, Mrs Weaver let us skive off to the school library, supposedly to do research for our Ecology Zone. We were still gloomily opening books and shutting them again when Mrs Poole sent a message round, saying the school was closing early because of the bad weather.

“Excellent,” said Frankie. “Hope it snows next week too. Then I’ll get to see my baby sister loads.” Her face lit up. “Did I tell you how she—”

“YES!” we yelled.

“Ssh!” hissed Miss Mellone. “This is a library, not a circus!”

“Like we hadn’t noticed,” muttered Rosie.

“Isn’t it weird,” said Kenny thoughtfully. “I hate snow, but I
lurve
getting snowed in.”

“Me too,” said Lyndz. “Don’t you love it when they do that Snow Line, and the radio presenter reads out the names of all the schools which are closed, and you hear the magic words ‘Cuddington School’?”

“Yeah! And look at it this way,” said Rosie. “This means we get a longer sleepover. If it’s all right with your mum, Fliss,” she added awkwardly.

I crossed my fingers behind my back. “Oh, Mum won’t mind,” I swanked.

“Great,” moaned Frankie. “An extra hour’s brain-ache, reading our exciting ecology books.
NOT!
”

The school library was just about to close, so we each grabbed a book and hoped for the best. Lyndz chose a book on horses (surprise, surprise). Kenny found one about the human body, which she said looked “promising”. “Gory” is the word I’d use. Kenny wants to be a doctor like her dad. She gets a real kick out of going into disgusting medical details and watching her friends squirm! My book showed all the weird little things you can see in an ordinary rain puddle. Well, if you’ve got a microscope! I was going to prove the existence of my mysterious mud creatures if it
killed
me.

I hate going out in ice and snow, don’t you? It makes me dead nervous and wobbly, like I’m going to fall on my face and knock my teeth out. And as I tottered down our road, a whole hour earlier than usual, I started feeling wobbly on the inside too.

Suppose Andy’s “tactful word” only made things worse? Mum’s dead sensitive. You can’t predict what’s going to set her off.

“Please don’t let her embarrass me in front of my friends,” I prayed. “I’ll never ask for another thing.”

But when I turned my key, Mum was on the other side of the door with a big grin on her face. I could see she was bursting to tell me something.

“Is it OK if everyone comes early, Mum?” I asked.

She nodded brightly. “Everything’s been ready for hours.”

My tummy turned over. “Ready?” I stuttered. “But Andy—?”

Mum’s expression went all soft and gooey. “Bless him. He was so sweet. He explained that he loves me just the way I am, but that me being so house-proud sometimes puts a bit of a strain on you all.”

I swallowed. “But—”

“He made me see I’ve got to learn to be more relaxed,” said Mum. “More fun to be with.”

“
More
fun?” I said in dismay.

“Anyway, I was wondering what I could do to make this a really extra-special year 2000 sleepover for you all, when I heard this man on the car radio,” Mum burbled. “And then I had my brainwave.”

“Brainwave?” I echoed. Brainstorm, more like.

Mum wagged her finger. “You’re not getting another word out of me until your friends get here. Just keep out of my hair, while I do the finishing touches.”

I went upstairs in a daze. It was like a bad dream. Andy’s tactful advice had only made my try-hard mum try harder than ever! What
is
she up to down there? I wondered nervously. Redecorating the house?

Just then, I saw the other members of the Sleepover Club out of the window, happily galumphing into view.

Boy, I had to move FAST! I raced down the stairs two at a time, and got the door open a split second before Frankie leaned on the door chimes.

“There’s a problem,” I gasped. “You see, my mum—”

“Don’t worry,” grinned Rosie. “Boots off already. Look!” She wiggled her toes in their woolly socks.

“And mine
nearly
are,” said Lyndz, hopping on one foot. “Don’t worry. Your mum’s carpets are safe with us.”

“We’ll leave our coats in the porch,” said Kenny, “so they won’t drip where they shouldn’t.”

“You don’t understand!” I wailed. “It isn’t a carpet-type problem. It’s more of a total—”

I was going to say “disaster”. But before I could warn my friends they were about to be zapped by my mother’s extra-special year 2000 brainwave, Mum appeared.

“Hi everyone,” she sang. “Great to see you all! I wonder if you’d just mind putting all those snowy boots and coats back on and coming round to the
back
of the house instead?”

Everyone’s mouths fell open. No-one said a word. But I knew what they were thinking. I was thinking the exact same thing. My mum had
totally
lost the plot!

Carefully not meeting my eye, Frankie and the others put their snowy boots and coats back on, and squelched out of our front porch without a word.

“Go with them, Fliss. That bolt on the back gate is a bit tricky,” said Mum. Honestly, she was beaming so brightly you could have used her for a Belisha beacon.

I threw on my coat and crunched after them, wondering if it was possible for a person to die of shame.

One of our neighbours had a bonfire going. I could smell smoke and something I couldn’t quite put a name to.

I unbolted the back gate, and wouldn’t you know? I managed to pinch my finger. It
really
hurt. Great, that’s all I need, I thought – a thumping great blood blister. I held the gate open with one hand and sucked the other hand miserably. Everyone trudged past into our sparkling white garden.

But as they disappeared round the corner, I heard gasps of astonishment.