Sleepover Girls Go Designer

by Narinder Dhami

  I was so upset that when we went into class, I even asked our teacher, Mrs Weaver, if I could sit on a different table. Mrs Weaver did a bit of a double-take when she noticed my purple face, but she told me I could sit on Ryan Scott and Danny McCloud’s table. Great. That was only just about better than sitting with the M&Ms and dozy Alana Banana.

  The others started whispering and pointing when I took my stuff and sat down on another table, but I didn’t look at them. I thought they might come over and try to talk to me, but we were supposed to be reading in silence before assembly so I guess they couldn’t. Still, I thought crossly, if they really wanted to make it up with me, they could pass me a note.

  The first note that came was from Kenny. It said: “Don’t be such a sad dork, Rosie! We don’t blame you, you lemon! What did you go and throw a fit like that for?”

  The second note was from Lyndz. She dropped it on my lap when she went over to the bookcase to change her book. It said: “Sorry, Rosie! We were only being a bit funny this morning because we were planning a surprise for you – watch out for Frankie’s note!”

  Frankie’s note said: “There’s a competition in Fliss’s Cool! magazine to win a bedroom makeover!!! That’s what we were looking at when you arrived this morning! Fliss’ll tell you about it!”

  Fliss wrote: “We were going to enter the competition for you, but we weren’t going to say anything, in case we didn’t win. The closing date for the comp is tomorrow, so we’ve got to do it TODAY!!!”

  I could hardly believe it. A competition to win a bedroom makeover? That first prize just had to have my name on it! I looked across the classroom at the others, grinned at them and gave them a double thumbs-up. Then I put my hand in the air, and waved it about until I got Mrs Weaver’s attention.

  “Yes, Rosie?” she asked, looking up from the maths books she was marking.

  “Miss, can I go back to my old table?” I asked eagerly.

  “I suppose so.” Mrs Weaver looked at me over the top of her glasses. “But before you do, could you put all those notes that Frankie, Laura, Lyndsey and Felicity have been passing to you in the wastepaper basket?”

  I turned pink, and glanced at the others. That’s the trouble with Mrs Weaver. She’s got X-ray vision.

  “Thank you, Rosie,” Mrs Weaver went on coolly when I’d chucked the notes away. “And thanks, all of you girls, for volunteering to give up your lunch hour and stay in to tidy the library.”

  I squirmed a bit, but I guess we’d got off pretty lightly. And I was friends with the others again, so it was worth it! Just then the bell went for assembly, and everyone rushed to put their books away, so under cover of the noise I dashed over to them.

  “Sorry!” I said breathlessly, and Kenny thumped me on the back.

  “Welcome back, Prune-face!” she said.

  “Here!” Fliss thrust the copy of Cool! magazine under my nose, and I had a quick look at it.

  “It says here you have to explain in no more than 80 words why you should get a bedroom makeover!” I looked round at the others in dismay. “I’m useless at this sort of competition – I can never think what to say!”

  “Ah, but we’re going to help you!” Frankie told me with a grin.

  “Yeah, we’re going to make sure you win!” Kenny chimed in.

  “The other entrants won’t stand a chance against the Sleepover Club!” Fliss boasted.

  “It’s in the bag!” Lyndz added.

  “Er – thanks, guys,” I said. “But if it’s got to be done today, when are we going to do it?”

  “We’ll have a bit of time after school before the last post goes,” Lyndz suggested, but Frankie shook her head.

  “We need longer than that. What about lunchtime?”

  “We’re tidying the library, remember?” the rest of us said gloomily.

  “Well, we’ll just have to try and do both!” Frankie said in a determined voice. “We can’t miss this chance to get Rosie’s bedroom looking good – and if we win, it might just stop our parents having a go at us! And then we might get our sleepovers back too…”

  “Look at this!” Fliss wailed, as we all hurried into the school library straight after we’d finished our lunch. “It’s a complete tip!”

  “It looks like someone’s been having a book fight!” Kenny said, gazing round. There were books lying all over the chairs and tables, and on the floor too. My heart sank. It was going to take us ages to clear up this mess. How on earth could we write my competition entry and get everything tidied up before the afternoon bell?

  “Hey, I’ve had a fabbo idea for the comp!” Frankie announced suddenly. “Why don’t we send a poem?”

  “Oh, yeah, right!” I said. “I can’t write poems, dumbo!”

  “No, but I can!” Frankie pointed out, and my face split into a big grin. Frankie was right. She was excellent at English.

  “Good one, Franks!” Kenny agreed eagerly. “Look, you’d better sit down and write it, while the rest of us get on with the tidying-up.”

  “OK.” Frankie looked at Fliss. “Have you got the magazine?”

  Fliss shook her head. “I left it in the classroom. D’you want me to go and get it?”

  Before Frankie could reply, the door opened, and Mrs Weaver popped her head in. “How are we getting on?” she asked briskly. “Oh, dear, not very well. Still, there’s always tomorrow lunchtime as well…”

  “Don’t worry, Miss, we’ll finish it today!” Kenny broke in hastily. She picked up the nearest pile of books, but they were too heavy for her and she ended up dropping most of them on the carpet. Mrs Weaver sighed, and went out.

  “Do you want me to go and get the mag?” Fliss asked Frankie again.

  Frankie shook her head. “Better not,” she said. “If Weaver catches you, she’ll go ballistic. Rosie can fill in the entry form later.”

  “Come on, get a move on!” Kenny said to the rest of us as Frankie sat down. “Or we’ll be stuck in here tomorrow too!”

  “Stop bossing us around, Kenny!” Fliss sniffed, and Frankie glared at us.

  “Do you mind? I’m trying to write a prize-winning poem here!”

  So we tiptoed around, putting the books away and tidying up the shelves while Frankie got down to work. We were pretty quiet, except when Fliss accidentally dropped an encyclopaedia on Lyndz’s toe, but as time went by, I was really starting to get worried. It was nearly time for the bell, and Frankie hadn’t said a word for about forty-five minutes.

  “OK!” Frankie threw her pen down just as the bell rang for the end of lunchtime, and Kenny put the last book away on the shelf. “I’ve done it!”

  “Excellent!” I said, and we all rushed over.

  “Go on, Frankie, read it,” said Fliss.

  Frankie cleared her throat and read:

  “My bedroom’s a tip,

  It has to be said,

  All that I’ve got

  Is a wardrobe and bed!

  There’s paperless walls

  And carpetless floor,

  It’s really a dump,

  I can stand it no more.

  I need a cool room

  For my friends to sleep over,

  I’d so love the prize

  Of a bedroom makeover!”

  “That’s excellent!” Lyndz said admiringly and we all nodded.

  “I reckon I’ve got a great chance of winning with that!” I said breathlessly. “Thanks, Frankie!”

  Frankie shrugged. “I guess some people have got it – and some people haven’t!”

  “What, a big head, you mean?” Kenny said teasingly, and Frankie thumped her.

  “Come on, we’re going to be late back to class,” Lyndz said, pulling open the library door. “Haven’t we got Art this afternoon?”

  “Oh, brill – painting! My best thing!” Frankie said, pulling a face, and we all started giggling.

  When we finally made it back to class, Mrs Weaver had already taken the register, and everyone was moving around collecting t
heir paints and brushes, and putting newspaper down on their tabletops.

  “All finished, girls?” Mrs Weaver called to us, and we nodded virtuously.

  “I’ll cut out the entry form from the magazine, and Rosie can fill it in,” Fliss told us in a low voice, as we went over to our table. Then she gave a little scream, and grabbed my arm really tightly.

  “Ow!” I gasped, trying to pull myself free. “What’s up with you?”

  “I left the magazine on the table!” Fliss wailed dramatically. “And now it’s gone!”

  We all stood there with our mouths open, staring down at the table as if the magazine would suddenly appear out of thin air.

  “What do you mean, it’s gone?” Kenny hissed at Fliss.

  “Which part of that sentence didn’t you understand, Kenny?” Fliss snapped back. “The magazine isn’t here!”

  “It must be here somewhere,” Lyndz said, getting down on her knees to look under the table. But it wasn’t there either.

  “We’ve got to have that magazine!” I said urgently. “We can’t enter the competition without the entry form!”

  “Oh no!” said Fliss suddenly in a horrified voice.

  “What?” we all said together.

  “I don’t believe it!” Fliss said, sounding really choked.

  “WHAT?” we all said again.

  Fliss didn’t answer. Instead she rushed across the room towards the M&Ms’ table. Emma Hughes and Emily Berryman were over the other side, collecting their paints, and the only person there was Alana Banana Palmer, who was mixing up some colours and trying them out on the newspaper spread over her table.

  “Look!” Fliss said, pointing with a shaky finger.

  At first I couldn’t see what Fliss was going on about. Then I took a closer look. Alana’s side of the table wasn’t just covered with old newspaper, it was also covered with pages from a magazine. ‘Win a bedroom makeover!’ leapt out at me from one of the pages, which was covered with big black, orange and green blotches, where Alana had been trying out her colours.

  “It’s the magazine!” I yelled. I leapt forward, and dragged the pages off the table, nearly knocking over the pot of water.

  “Hey, what’s the matter with you?” Alana asked, looking dozily from me to Fliss.

  “That’s my magazine, you birdbrain!” Fliss snapped. “Who said you could nick it to cover your stupid table?”

  Alana shrugged. “Oh, it was just lying there, so I took it. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “Well, I do!” Fliss retorted angrily.

  “And so do I!” I added, glaring at Alana, but it was like water off a duck’s back.

  “Sorry,” Alana said dreamily, and went back to mixing her paints.

  “Can we use the entry form or not?” Kenny asked me urgently.

  “Not unless we think big black and orange splodges all over it are going to impress the judges!” I said miserably. I showed the competition page to the others. Alana Banana had really gone to town on it. You couldn’t even see most of the entry form because of the paint all over it.

  “You don’t think the M&Ms set this up, do you?” Fliss asked suspiciously.

  “No, I don’t reckon so.” Kenny glanced over at the M&Ms, who weren’t taking any notice of us or Alana. They were talking to Ryan and Danny over by the paints cupboard. “Not this time. They’d be over here like a shot having a good laugh if they had.”

  “The M&Ms don’t even know we want to enter the competition anyway,” Lyndz added. “It’s all down to Alana Banana being a dozy twit!”

  “All right, don’t panic!” said Frankie. “We’ll just have to nip along to the newsagent’s after school, and get another copy. Simple!”

  We all heaved a sigh of relief. Except Fliss.

  “There might not be any left,” she pointed out, “The new edition of the mag comes out tomorrow.”

  “We’ll just have to risk it,” I said anxiously. I couldn’t see what else we could do, even though it was a bit dodgy leaving it all to the last minute.

  “We’d better get our painting stuff,” Lyndz whispered. “Mrs Weaver’s giving us dirty looks.”

  We all trailed over to the paints cupboard, and collected our equipment. Everybody looked pretty down, and I felt really frustrated. Without a form, I didn’t have a hope of even entering the competition, let alone winning it. At that moment, I could have picked up the pot of dirty water on Alana’s table and poured it over her head!

  Kenny had gone to get us some aprons, and she was last to get back to our table. She chucked the aprons down, and grinned round at us.

  “Guess what? I think I’ve found another copy of the magazine!”

  “What!” I didn’t believe her at first – I was sure she was having us on. “Where?”

  “Take a look over there, on the cupboard!” Kenny nodded across the classroom. “It’s the magazine all right! There’s just one tiny little problem…”

  We all looked where Kenny had indicated. Someone’s bag was sitting on one of the cupboards, and poking out of the top was a rolled-up copy of Cool! magazine.

  “Hey, Kenny’s right!” I gasped. “Do you think they’ll give me the entry form, whoever it is?”

  “I can’t see it somehow,” Frankie said, pulling a face. “That’s Emma Hughes’s bag!”

  “Yeah,” said Kenny. “That’s the tiny little problem I mentioned.”

  “Oh no!” My heart fell right down into my shoes with a loud THUD. The magazine would have to belong to Emma Hughes!

  “Yeah, she’s the only one in the class who’s got a prissy pink rucksack like that,” Kenny went on.

  Fliss glared at her. “I’ve got a pink rucksack, Kenny!”

  “Yeah, but yours is much nicer!” Kenny said quickly, and turned to Frankie. “What d’you reckon, Franks? Shall I have a go at nicking it or what?”

  “No!” Fliss looked scared to death. “What if you get caught? Mrs Weaver will skin you alive!”

  “She’s right, Kenny,” Lyndz chimed in. “It’s too risky.”

  “Yeah, I agree.” Frankie thought for a moment or two. “I reckon the only thing we can do is ask Emma to give it to us.”

  “Oh yeah, I can see that happening right off!” Kenny scoffed. “Like the Queen’s really going to hand it over just like that!”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Frankie said in a crushing tone, “I meant we could buy it off her.”

  “What? No way!” Kenny gasped. “We’d never hear the end of it!”

  “Well, have you got a better idea?” Frankie asked.

  “Yeah, I told you,” Kenny said impatiently. “I’ll go over there and nick it when she’s not looking!”

  “NO!” the rest of us said together.

  “Fine!” Kenny snapped. “Well, if you want to let the M&Ms get one over on us…”

  We all looked at each other, and I felt really bad. It was all my fault that we had to go crawling to the M&Ms. Well, it was my dad’s fault really…

  “Anyway,” Kenny went on, “I bet Emma won’t sell it to you – you know what she’s like!”

  “We’ll have to try,” Lyndz said.

  Fliss groaned. “Emma’s going to love this!”

  “I’d better be the one to ask her,” I said quickly, “because it’s me who needs the entry form.” I wasn’t looking forward to being nice to Emma Hughes one bit, but I knew I couldn’t expect the others to do it. I took my purse out of my pocket, and counted out 90p, which is what the magazine cost.

  “I don’t mind asking her—” Kenny began, but Frankie shook her head.

  “Nah, you and Emma would be fighting in one second flat! It’s best if Rosie does it.”

  “OK, but we’re all going with her,” Kenny said in a determined voice.

  “Don’t say anything to Emma about why we want the magazine,” Frankie warned me, and I nodded.

  Mrs Weaver was busy over by the sink at that moment, so it was a good time for all of us to leg it across the classroom
to the M&Ms’ table. Emma Hughes and Emily Berryman looked suspiciously at us as we stopped in front of them, although Alana was too busy painting to take any notice.

  “Look what the cat dragged in, Emily!” Emma sniffed.

  “Why don’t you try zipping your big fat mouth—” Kenny began crossly, but she was bundled back across the room by Frankie and Lyndz, leaving me and Fliss to negotiate with Emma Hughes.

  “Look, is that your magazine there?” I asked quickly, pointing at the pink rucksack just behind her.

  Emma looked even more suspicious, as if I’d asked her a trick question. “What do you mean?”

  “I just want to know, because if it is, I want to buy it,” I said in a rush.

  The M&Ms looked at each other in disbelief. “Why?” Emily Berryman asked, puzzled.

  “I just want it.” I held out my hand, and showed them the 90p. “Here’s the money.”

  Emma and Emily looked at the money, smirked at each other and then turned away and went into a little huddle. They were muttering together, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then Emma grinned at me. It was a pretty evil grin, so I guessed it wasn’t going to be good news.

  “Yeah, you can have it,” she said.

  “Oh, thanks, Emma!” I said, surprised.

  “But it’ll cost you five pounds!”

  “Five pounds?” Fliss squealed. “But it’s only 90p!”

  “That’s my final offer,” Emma Hughes said smugly while Emily Berryman sniggered away in the background. “Take it or leave it!”

  Fliss and I hurried back to our table to tell the others.

  “Five pounds!” Kenny repeated, her eyes wide. “What a slimeball! I told you I should have nicked it!”

  “We’d better pool all our dosh and see how much we’ve got,” Frankie suggested. So we all emptied out our purses and pockets, and put the money on the table. We had £3.15.

  “D’you think they’ll take it?” Fliss asked doubtfully.

  “I’ll give it a go,” I said. I scooped the money up and went back across the room. The M&Ms started giggling and nudging each other as soon as they saw me coming.