Czytaj książkę: «Sleepover Girls Go Splash!»
by Sue Mongredien
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Have You Been Invited to All These Sleepovers?
Sleepover Kit List
Copyright
About the Publisher
Hello! It’s Lyndz here. How’s it going? It’s ages and ages since I’ve seen you – sorry! Don’t think I’ve been neglecting you, but I’m just always soooo busy – I’ve been down at the stables helping out every chance I get, you see. Just for you, though, I’m going to make a real effort and tell you all about the time the Sleepover Club made a great big SPLASH!
I can remember the exact moment it all started. It was a Thursday morning and a horrible rainy February day. Ugh! February is just THE worst month, don’t you think? It’s so grey and gloomy – and all the nice things like summer and my birthday and Christmas seem ages and ages away. I was shivering in the playground before school that morning, wishing Spring would hurry up and come soon, so we might actually get a bit of sunshine again.
Also, to make it even worse, Mrs Weaver, our class teacher, had declared it ‘mental arithmetic week’ and was giving us these gruesome maths tests every single morning. Honestly! How mean can you get? I’m not very good at Maths – in fact, I’m rubbish – so I wasn’t looking forward to going into lessons at all.
Anyway, I soon cheered up when Kenny bounded into the playground, with a grin stretching from ear to ear. When she’s in one of her bouncy moods, she reminds me of our dog, Buster. He’s a little Jack Russell, and has more energy than any creature I’ve ever known. You can’t feel miserable with Buster around – it’s impossible!
“Guess what?” Kenny said excitedly, once she’d spotted us and run over.
“They’ve discovered life on Mars?” Frankie said hopefully.
“School has been cancelled today?” I suggested, thinking about the maths test.
“Something about football probably,” Fliss said, not looking terribly interested.
“You’ve cracked the meaning of life?” was Rosie’s guess.
Kenny beamed. “Oh, none of those,” she said airily. “This is MUCH better! I was at swimming club last night and guess what?”
“Do we really have to guess again?” groaned Fliss.
“We don’t know! Tell us, for goodness’ sake!” Rosie said, laughing.
“Well, there’s going to be a sponsored swim at Cuddington Baths in a couple of weeks, and I thought it would be a brilliant thing for the Sleepover Club to do,” Kenny said breathlessly. “And there’s going to be a big party afterwards and everything! So what do you all think?”
There was a pause while we took this in. Then…
Ooh! Hang on! I just thought. Have you met all of us in the Sleepover Club? How rude of me not to even ask, eh? Hopefully you’ll know everyone, but if you don’t – or if you’ve just plain forgotten – I’d better dish the details before I go any further, or you won’t have a clue what I’m on about.
Well! As I said, Kenny’s a bit like my bouncy Buster – she’s full of beans, full of fun, and full of get-up-and-go. She’s a total Sporty Spice, too – when she’s not swimming, she’s playing football in the park with all the boys, or doing back flips at gymnastics club, or netball training, or… She’s amazing! She’s one of those people who are just naturally brilliant at every sport they do.
She’s also an ace mate because she’s dead loyal, and would do anything for you. If anyone ever tries to pick on one of us, Kenny’s straight in there, backing us up with a fierce glint in her eye. And believe me, no-one in our class has the bottle to muck about with Kenny. She could out-fight everyone – even all the boys, I reckon!
Then there’s Frankie. Wherever Kenny is, Frankie’s usually with her, as the two of them are best friends. The only things they don’t do together are all Kenny’s sports stuff. It’s not like Frankie’s no good at sports, because she is, but she’d rather spend her spare time designing her very own rocket launch or painting her bedroom silver! Frankie’s a bit eccentric, if you hadn’t gathered. Sometimes I listen to her telling us about one of her brilliant ideas, and I just wonder what on earth she’s on about this time. She’s the cleverest one of us five by miles.
What else can I tell you about Frankie? Well, if Kenny’s a bit like a bouncy Jack Russell, I’d compare Frankie to a chameleon or maybe even one of those fabulously coloured butterflies! Something funky and exotic, anyway, as Frankie wears the brightest, most outrageous things you’ve ever seen. She especially loves silver, which is her all-time favourite colour, but she’s had a big purple phase lately. She even wanted to dye her hair purple, but her mum went mad at the thought and put her foot down in a big way. So sparkly purple nail varnish is about her limit right now.
I think Frankie always looks cool in a weird kind of style, but Fliss would disagree with that, I’m sure. Fliss – short for Felicity – is fashion queen of the Sleepover Club, although that’s not difficult, to be honest. What with Kenny permanently in footy top and tracky bottoms, me in my scruffy jodhpurs, Frankie in one of her wild and wonderful outfits and Rosie in her sister’s hand-me-downs, Fliss doesn’t exactly have a lot of competition, clothes-wise.
I think Fliss gets her girly side from her mum, who’s also mega into having perfectly groomed hair, manicured hands, and immaculate clothes. Fliss’s idea of heaven is being able to spend thousands of pounds on clothes and beauty stuff. Her bedroom is amazing. As well as blinding you with its pinkness and girlyness, it’s like being in a clothes shop, complete with matching accessories for EVERYTHING!
If you ask me, Fliss is a bit like a peacock – especially the boy peacocks who have those beautiful tails and are always showing them off. Sometimes, before she even says “Hello”, Fliss is asking you if you like her new top and telling you how much it cost. Definitely peacock behaviour!
Now, the big news about Fliss is that she’s just become a big sister all over again – this time to two tiny baby twins!! Her mum had them a couple of weeks ago and they’re just soooo cute. One boy and one girl, called Joseph (Joe for short) and Hannah, with identical snub noses and bald heads. Oh yeah, and not forgetting the identical screams!
I think Fliss was secretly hoping for two girls as she’s not mad keen on little brothers (she’s already got one – Callum). But she’s dead chuffed with the twins, and loves helping her mum dress them up in all their cute little outfits. All together now… AHHH!
So as well as being a peacock, our Fliss has also become something of a mother hen these days. Although she does get cross when they cry all the way through Neighbours so she can’t hear what anyone’s saying.
And last but not least there’s Rosie. Now, if Rosie were an animal or bird, I think she’d be a crab. First of all, because that’s her birth sign, Cancerian, but also because she can be quite crabby at times. Most of the time she’s great fun and really makes me laugh, but, just like a crab, she’s got this very sensitive side under her hard shell. And boy, can she get in a mood at times!
Mind you, she has her reasons, I suppose. I won’t make a big deal out of it, because she hates that, but Rosie’s family are pretty hard up most of the time. Her dad left them a year or so ago and her mum really struggles with money. Tiffany, Rosie’s big sister, has got a Saturday job so she’s helping out a bit now, but there’s still not really enough cash to go round.
Also, even though Rosie would never say so, I think she feels a bit left out at home sometimes. Her brother, Adam, has cerebral palsy and is in a wheelchair, and so their mum gives him a lot more attention than she does to Rosie. It would probably be different if her dad was still around, but when there’s just one parent and three kids to look after, someone’s bound to miss out on the attention somewhere, don’t you think?
And last but not least there’s me – Lyndsey Marianne Collins, although everyone just calls me Lyndz. Much easier, don’t you think? I’ve got two big brothers and two little brothers and NO sisters – aaargh! Yes, it’s wall-to-wall boys in our house, apart from me and Mum. You might think that’s a nightmare if you hate boys, but it’s actually OK. My favourite is my little baby brother Sam. Everyone calls him Spike because he has this great big tuft of hair sticking up at the front. He’s soooo sweet and cuddly!
Now, if you know anything about me, you’ll know that I absolutely love animals with a mad, mad passion. Sometimes I think I get on better with animals than people! I go horse riding every weekend, which is just my favourite thing in the world. My brother Stuart works part-time at a farm down the road from us, and I sometimes help muck out the horses there. Horses are just gorgeous, don’t you think? They’re so beautiful and strong and clever.
My favourite horse at the riding school is called Alfie. He’s a gorgeous bay gelding with a white star in the middle of his forehead. I always take him some sugar lumps for a treat because they’re his absolute favourite. Whenever he sees me, he nuzzles at my pockets with a hopeful whinny!
As well as Buster the dog, we’ve got three cats at home – Toffee, Truffle and Fudge. Truffle is my top cat because she’s lovely and snuggly and sometimes sleeps in my bed with me. The three of them pick on Buster though, if they catch him eating their cat food. They all gang up on him and chase him round the garden together. It’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen!
So what animal am I like, then? Well, the others gave me the nickname of Squirrel for a while, as Frankie reckoned I always had some sweets squirrelled away in my desk or in my bag. But I think that makes me sound more like a PIG!
If I could choose what animal I was, I’d be a horse, as I think they’re just the best animals in the world. In fact, I think I’d choose to be Alfie, as he’s so completely beautiful. Anyway, as I’m the one telling you all this, I think it’s only fair that I should be allowed to pick what I’d be.
There you are then, that’s us five. The Sleepover Club, yay! It’s great being in a club with your four best mates. We try and have a sleepover every Friday night unless someone’s on holiday or poorly, and we always do loads of cool stuff together at the weekends and in the school holidays. Best of all, someone’s always coming up with an awesome idea of what the club can do next.
And that was where I’d got up to, wasn’t it? Kenny’s awesome idea. Let me start another chapter and I’ll tell you more about it!
If you can remember that far back, before I so rudely interrupted the story, Kenny had just suggested that we all went in for this sponsored swim at Cuddington Baths.
“I’m going to go for my personal best – one hundred lengths!” she said, eyes gleaming with excitement. Kenny’s a brilliant swimmer, of course. She’s got her gold lifesavers’ medal already, which is pretty spectacular for someone her age, apparently.
“A hundred lengths?” echoed Fliss, looking a bit faint at the thought. “We don’t all have to swim that far, do we?”
“No, of course not, silly,” Kenny said. “You just do as much as you can, and people sponsor you per length. Or, if you don’t think you’re going to manage many lengths, you can get them to give you a lump sum, like two pounds or something, just for taking part.”
“I could probably only do about ten lengths – if that!” I said doubtfully. “I mean, I like the idea, but I can still only do doggy paddle. I haven’t really got the hang of any other strokes yet.”
“Ten lengths would be excellent!” Kenny said warmly. “We can all practise together at weekends. And I could teach you breaststroke if you want – it’s dead easy. If you can do doggy paddle, you can easily do that.”
“All right, thanks!” I said.
“I reckon I can do fifteen lengths – or maybe even twenty,” Fliss said thoughtfully. She had a load of private swimming lessons last summer and is quite good now – even if she does hate getting her hair wet!
“I’m going to go for half a mile – thirty-two lengths,” Frankie said excitedly. She goes swimming quite a lot with her dad, and often with Kenny, too, so she’s pretty fit. “Half a mile – it sounds a long way, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, you can do that, no problem,” Kenny said confidently. “How about you, Rosie?”
“Ooh yes, of course, because you’re a water sign, aren’t you, Rosie?” Fliss said at once. We called her ‘mystic Flisstic’ for a while last summer, because she got really into horoscopes and fortune-telling. “You should be the best swimmer of the lot, then!”
Rosie went a bit pink. “I don’t think so!” she said. She was trying to laugh but she looked a bit awkward about it. “Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be able to do the swimathon with you guys. Sorry, but…”
“But what?” Frankie said. “One for all, and all for one, remember, Rosie?”
Rosie bit her lip. She was looking dead shifty, which is unusual when she’s normally such a down-to-earth person. “Well, the fact that my cozzie is so ancient and small that it’s practically unwearable for starters,” she said, with this embarrassed sort of laugh. “I don’t think Cuddington is ready to see my bare bum hanging out!”
“Oh, I’ve got loads of swimming costumes,” Fliss said at once. “You can borrow one of mine! Not my new one, obviously, as I’ll be wearing that, but I’ll dig out another one for you, if you like!”
“Nice one, Fliss!” I said. Fliss isn’t often very generous with her things. She’d never lend me or Kenny any of her clothes, I’m sure, simply because she would worry that we’d rip them or stretch them! Mind you, I suppose a swimming costume is pretty hard to break, isn’t it?
“Thanks, Fliss,” Rosie said, but she still wasn’t looking anyone in the eye. “But—”
“Anyway, you’ve GOT to take part,” Kenny said suddenly. “Because I haven’t told you the rest of it yet. All the money that we raise goes to Whizz-Kidz, I forgot to say! NOW tell me you won’t take part!”
“Whizz-Kidz?” asked Frankie. “Who are they?”
“Oh!” Rosie said. She looked delighted at the news. “Whizz-Kidz is that charity for disabled kids. They make all these amazing customised wheelchairs and trikes and stuff. You know that day centre that Adam goes to? They helped them out with a load of new wheelchairs, remember me telling you?”
“Yeah, and that’s not all,” Kenny said. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you all about this! After the swimathon, there’s going to be this mega party at the pool for all the swimmers who take part, plus all their families. It should be really fab!”
Fliss’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, I hope the lifeguards are good-looking!”
“Yeah, one of them’s gorgeous, actually,” Kenny said, winking at the rest of us. “Nige, he’s called. I reckon you’ll like him, Fliss.”
“Oh, really?” Fliss said, smoothing her hair down. “What’s he like, then?”
“Well…” said Kenny, but just then Mrs Poole blew the whistle and we had to go inside for registration. But from the wink Kenny had just given, I had a fair idea that ‘Nige’ wasn’t going to be quite as hunky as Fliss was hoping!
Not even the morning maths test could dampen our spirits now we had the swimathon to get us excited! I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I could tell the others felt the same.
The only person who still didn’t seem that interested was Rosie. But I guessed it was because she didn’t have a swimming costume and felt embarrassed about it. Rosie’s dead proud like that. When we first started hanging out with her, she wouldn’t let us come round to her house for ages because she thought we’d turn our noses up at it, just because it’s in a bit of a state!
To be honest, I think our house is much scruffier than hers, because my dad’s one of these people who’s always starting things off and never finishing them. So we’ve got a half-built wall here, a half-painted room there, a frame out the back for a conservatory that he’s never managed to finish… It drives you mad sometimes!
Anyway, I don’t mind the others seeing our mad half-built house because that’s the way it’s always been, but I guess Rosie’s a bit different. I knew she’d hate having to wear one of Fliss’s swimming costumes because she hates not being able to “pay her own way”, as she says. But if something’s offered to you, you might as well take it, in my book.
I was just imagining myself doing the most graceful breaststroke ever up and down Cuddington Baths with crowds of people cheering me on, when Mrs Weaver called out, “OK, time’s up! Pens down!” and I realised with a jump that I’d barely started on the maths test. Uh-oh – I’d been daydreaming again.
“OK, swap tests with the person next to you,” Mrs Weaver said briskly. “Here are the answers. One – three nines are twenty-seven. Two – eighteen plus sixteen is thirty-four. Three – six fours are twenty-four…”
Luckily, I had Kenny marking mine, and being a complete star and fantastic friend, she scribbled a load of answers in for me so that I wouldn’t get too bad a score. Now that’s what I call a mate! I was marking Rosie’s paper and she’d done nearly as badly as me by the looks of things, so I tried to put a few answers in there, too. Rosie was obviously thinking about the swimathon as well, judging by all the empty spaces on her answer sheet!
Unfortunately, our little bout of “helping” was spotted by beady-eyed Emma Hughes, one of our sworn enemies, the M&Ms. BAAAD news…
“Mrs Weaver, Kenny and Lyndsey are cheating!” she said at once, sticking her hand in the air.
Kenny scowled at her and I gave her a dirty look. Interfering cow! Just because she was a mega-brain maths-head!
Mrs Weaver hates people telling tales, but she’s also pretty hot against cheats, too. “Kenny and Lyndsey, bring your answer sheets here,” she said crisply. “I think I’ll mark the rest of those, thank you very much.”
Emma gave us this whopping great smirk, like she’d just won a prize. In fact, if there was a prize going for smugness, she would have won the gold medal.
Mrs Weaver soon cut her down to size, though. “And Emma, we don’t like tell-tales in this class, so you can wipe that grin off your face,” she said. “Now then! Let’s see if we can get through the rest of this test without any more dramas!”
Darmowy fragment się skończył.
