Mega Sleepover 7

by Narinder Dhami

  Before any of us had a chance to say anything, the tall woman spotted her broken racket lying on the ground.

  “My racket!” she roared furiously, hurrying on to the tennis court. She snatched it up, inspected the damage and glared at Kenny, red-faced. “My lucky racket, the one my Aunt Fiona played with at Wimbledon in 1951!”

  “Oh,” Kenny said politely. “I’m really sorry, but maybe it was time you got a new one anyway, then.”

  She was trying to be helpful, but the woman almost had a fit.

  “How dare you!” she shouted, waving the racket at Kenny. “This is part of my family’s history!”

  “Steady on, Dorothy,” said the other woman in a wobbly voice. I think she was as frightened of her friend as we were!

  “We’re really, really sorry,” Fliss stammered, looking as if she was about to faint with fright.

  “Do you know who I am?” The woman glared round at us. “I’m Mrs Morgan, the club secretary. And I’m going to make sure you never set foot in Green Lawns again!”

  “Well, how was I supposed to know that the racket belonged to the club secretary?” Kenny moaned in a low voice. “I mean, it was really tatty. I didn’t think anyone would mind if I played with it.”

  “Ssh, Fliss’s mum is looking at us,” Rosie hissed.

  Mrs Proudlove was glaring at us in the driver’s mirror, so we all shut up. The atmosphere in the car was colder and frostier than the North Pole. While Mrs Morgan had been telling us off, Fliss’s mum and Auntie Jill had come out of the changing-rooms just in time to find out what had happened. Mrs Morgan gave them an earful too. Fliss’s mum had been so furious and embarrassed, she’d hauled us off home straight away without even bothering to change. Now we were pretty much in doom forever.

  “It’s a wonder Mrs Morgan didn’t throw us out of the club there and then,” Fliss’s mum said through her teeth.

  “I think she only let us off because she knows I’m Mark’s girlfriend,” Auntie Jill muttered.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show my face there again,” Mrs Proudlove groaned, changing gear with a lot of crunching and banging. “I certainly won’t be going there for the next few days.”

  “Me neither,” said Auntie Jill.

  “Sorry,” Kenny said again, for about the millionth time. “But that racket was just lying there. She shouldn’t have left it lying around if it was that important.”

  Auntie Jill turned round, and directed an icy stare at Kenny. “Everyone at Green Lawns knows about Mrs Morgan’s special racket,” she said. “And nobody would dare to touch it. The reason why it was lying on the court was that Mrs Morgan and her friend were about to have a game.”

  “Sorry,” Kenny muttered again.

  “I knew this would happen,” Fliss’s mum grumbled. “Well, that’s it.” She shot us another glare in the mirror. “None of you will be coming to Green Lawns with me ever again. Is that clear?”

  “But, Mum—” Fliss began.

  “Is that clear?” Mrs Proudlove said again in a louder voice.

  We nodded. We didn’t dare to speak, not even to each other, but I knew what everyone else was thinking. We’d been boasting to the M&Ms about how we were going to be practising at the tennis club from now on. If they didn’t see us there, we’d never hear the end of it…

  “Look, there are the M&Ms waiting for us,” Fliss said gloomily, as we drove through the college grounds.

  “Are those girls friends of yours?” asked my dad, who was dropping us off. Mrs Proudlove had refused to give us a lift after what had happened the day before.

  We all made being-sick noises.

  “Dad, we ARE not friends with those two losers,” I told him.

  “So why are they waiting for you then?” Dad said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t ask.”

  “I don’t think I want to know,” my dad said with a grin. “See you at lunchtime.”

  We all climbed slowly out of the car. The M&Ms were watching us gleefully, just waiting to find out why we hadn’t been playing at the club yesterday after all Kenny’s boasting.

  “Look, we’ll just say we were there, and they didn’t see us,” Kenny hissed.

  “Well, we were there – for about ten minutes!” Lyndz pointed out. “So it’s not really a fib.”

  “You don’t think the Queen and the Goblin heard about what happened to Mrs Morgan’s racket, do you?” Fliss squeaked, looking really worried.

  Kenny groaned. “I hope not – they’ll laugh their heads off if they know it was us.”

  “If they know it was you, you mean,” Fliss said grumpily. She was in a bit of a bad mood this morning. Her mum must have had a right go at her.

  “Not wearing your magic cloaks today, then,” the Queen called as we walked on to the court.

  We all stared at her. None of us had a clue what she was going on about.

  “Your magic cloaks,” the Queen repeated. The Goblin was sniggering away beside her. “You know, the ones that make you invisible.”

  “Yeah, because if you were at the club yesterday afternoon, you must have been invisible,” Emily Berryman explained sarcastically. “Because we didn’t see you!”

  “We were there,” Kenny said shortly. “We had a quick game, and then we left.”

  “Oh, yeah, right,” the Goblin chortled. “You must think we’re stupid!”

  “We do, actually,” I chimed in.

  “You didn’t go to the club!” Emma Hughes said. “I knew you were making it all up.”

  “We’re not,” Kenny snapped. “Actually we’re going to be there this afternoon as well!”

  “What?” I muttered. “Kenny, what’re you talking about?”

  “We’re going to the club this afternoon, right?” Kenny turned round and eyeballed the rest of us really hard.

  “Er – yeah…” we all muttered. Fliss was looking nervous, and I didn’t blame her. Kenny and her big mouth had gone and dropped us right in it again!

  “Are you totally and completely bonkers, Kenny?” I demanded, when the M&Ms had stomped off, looking a bit less smug. “There’s no way we can get into that club again!”

  “My mum won’t take us,” Fliss said anxiously. “She’ll kill me if I ask her.”

  “And we’re not members, so how can we get in?” Rosie added.

  “Kenny, what have you done!” Lyndz groaned.

  “Leave it with me.” Kenny grabbed a racket, as Mark came over to join us. “I’ll have a think about it, and I’ll come up with one of my super-duper, fantastically cool ideas.”

  “You mean, you’ll think of a way to get us into even more trouble,” Fliss said gloomily.

  Mark gave us all a talk to start with, reminding us of what we’d learned yesterday. We lined up and did some more forehand practice shots, then he sent us off to practise against each other.

  Things went a bit better than yesterday. Even Rosie managed not to hit the ball right over the fence this time. The most difficult thing was trying to hit the ball hard and still keep it within the white lines. Kenny could whack the ball really hard, but she kept knocking it out of the court.

  Mark came over to give us some advice.

  “Remember what I said yesterday,” he told us. “The forehand can be a really easy shot, but if you want to be a good player, there are some things you need to remember. You have to think about your grip, and the position of your racket when you hit the ball.” He took Rosie’s racket from her to show us what he meant. “Move the racket back as fast as you can, to get ready for the shot, and keep it vertical. And try to finish up with your racket pointing towards the place you want the ball to go.”

  “There’s so much to remember,” Kenny groaned, as Mark went off again.

  “And you thought tennis was just about hitting a ball over a net!” I reminded her.

  The morning went by really quickly. We were getting so into the game that we didn’t take any notice of the M&Ms, who were playing on the same court as
Ryan and Danny again. But when the session was over, they started hanging around as we packed up the rackets and balls, smirking all over their faces.

  “So we’ll see you this afternoon,” the Queen said loudly. “At the club.”

  Kenny glared at her. “That’s right.”

  “Don’t bring your magic cloaks this time then,” the Goblin chortled, “or we won’t be able to see you!”

  And off they went, laughing like drains.

  I looked at Kenny. “So what’s your big idea then?” I asked. “If you’ve got one at all!”

  “’Course I’ve got an idea.” Kenny was looking well pleased with herself, which usually means trouble. “We’re going to get into that club, no problem.”

  “How?” Lyndz asked, looking puzzled.

  “I’m not climbing over the fence!” Fliss said firmly.

  “Don’t be daft, Fliss,” Kenny said. “We’re not going to do that.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Rosie asked.

  Kenny grinned. “Fliss is going to borrow her mum’s membership card, pretend to be her mum and sign us all in as guests!”

  “Kenny!” Fliss howled. “That’s the most stupid idea I’ve ever heard!”

  “Why?” Kenny asked crossly. “I thought it was brilliant, even though I say so myself.”

  “You’ve really gone bananas this time, Kenny,” I told her. “It’ll never work.”

  “How can I pretend to be my mum?” Fliss demanded. “She’s twenty-eight!”

  “So?” Kenny shrugged her shoulders. “Her age isn’t on the membership card, is it? Just her name. You can easily call yourself Nicola Proudlove.”

  “Hang on,” Rosie said. “I got a quick look at the card when we went to the club yesterday, and there’s a photo of Fliss’s mum on it.”

  “Oh, rats!” said Kenny. She thought for a minute, and then beamed at us. “OK, no problem. Fliss and her mum look like each other, and they’ve both got long blonde hair. Fliss can wear shades, and we’ll put loads of make-up on her to make her look a bit older, and more like the photo.”

  “Yeah?” Fliss brightened up a bit, and stopped looking so nervous. She loves doing girly stuff with make-up. “Do you really think it’ll work?”

  “Of course it won’t work!” I said, and Rosie and Lyndz nodded in agreement.

  “Have you got a better idea, Francesca?” Kenny asked me.

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “OK, then, so this is what we’ll do,” Kenny went on. “After lunch, we’ll meet at Fliss’s house, and get her all made up. Then we’ll cycle to the club, so bring your bikes.”

  Fliss was looking nervous again. “I don’t think my mum will be very pleased if you all come round to my place. She’s still really annoyed about yesterday.”

  “Just tell her we’re doing homework together,” Kenny said. “The oldies always like that.”

  “All right,” Fliss agreed.

  “See you all there then,” Kenny grinned, as my dad drew up outside the tennis courts.

  “Quick, get inside before my mum comes down to see who it is,” Fliss whispered, hustling me through the door of the Proudloves’ house. I’d left my bike outside in the front garden, along with the others which were already parked there. “She keeps checking up on us, so we have to pretend to be doing homework.”

  “Where is your mum?” I asked, stepping into the hall.

  “She’s with a client,” Fliss replied, pushing me towards the stairs. Her mum is a beautician, and she has a sort of beauty salon in one of the spare bedrooms where she does all sorts of treatments. “Come on, we’re in my room.”

  We tiptoed up the stairs, and Fliss opened her bedroom door.

  “Yikes!” Kenny gasped, jumping a mile into the air. She was in the middle of tipping a make-up bag full of lipsticks and nail varnishes on to the floor. “I thought you were Fliss’s mum.”

  “Come on, let’s get on with it,” Fliss said, looking nervous.

  “One of us had better be on guard,” Rosie suggested.

  “Good idea,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

  I went over to the door and opened it, so that I could see right down the landing.

  “Now, which one do you think I should wear?” Fliss held up two lipsticks. She’s got loads of make-up that her mum lets her wear when we’re playing dressing-up or having fashion shows. “Peachy Kiss or Purple Pout?”

  “Oh, Fliss!” Kenny groaned. “It doesn’t matter. Just slap some lipstick on, and then we can go.”

  “Don’t be silly, Kenny,” Fliss retorted. “I’ve got to do it properly. My mum’s taught me all about make-up.”

  “Peachy Kiss is nice,” Lyndz said, twisting the lipstick up out of its tube.

  “OK,” Fliss agreed. “But I’ve got to do my blusher and mascara first.”

  We all sat around waiting as Fliss did her face. Kenny was so impatient, she couldn’t sit still. She kept hopping around from foot to foot, like she wanted to go to the loo or something.

  “OK, I’m all done.” Fliss fluttered her eyelashes at us. “What do you think?”

  “You do look a few years older,” Rosie said.

  “Fourteen, maybe.” I added, “But not twenty-eight!”

  “Yes, but Fliss’s mum looks really young for her age, anyway,” Kenny pointed out. “We’ll get away with it.”

  “What if the man on the gate asks me how old I am?” Fliss said, looking panicky.

  “Say you’re fourteen,” Kenny instructed her. “And if he says you look older in the photo, just tell him you were having a bad hair day when it was taken.”

  “I hope it’s not the same man who was on the gate yesterday,” Lyndz said suddenly. “He might remember us.”

  “We’ll just have to risk it,” Kenny said in a determined voice.

  A door opened further down the landing. And I nearly died when I saw Fliss’s mum come out and head in our direction.

  “Mrs Proudlove’s coming!” I hissed.

  “Help!” Fliss gasped. “What about my make-up?”

  “Lie down on the bed with your back to the door, and stick your head in a book,” Kenny told her. Between the four of us, we bundled her on to the bed, and thrust a book into her hand. “And whatever you do, don’t look up!”

  By the time Fliss’s mum opened the door, we were all sitting quietly and reading.

  “Everything all right in here?” Mrs Proudlove asked suspiciously.

  “Fine, thank you,” we replied politely.

  “Mum, we’ve finished our homework,” Fliss mumbled without looking up. “Is it OK if we go out on our bikes now?”

  Mrs Proudlove frowned. “I suppose so,” she sighed. “But just try to stay out of trouble, please.”

  She went out again. We all heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Come on, let’s get going,” Kenny said. “Fliss, have you got some sunglasses?”

  Fliss nodded, and picked up a really funky pink, heart-shaped pair of shades. Then she grabbed her sports bag.

  “How’re we going to have a game, if we do get in?” I asked. “Fliss is the only one of us who’s got a racket.”

  “Oh, we can always borrow one from somebody,” Kenny replied.

  “As long as it’s not Mrs Morgan!” Rosie giggled nervously.

  “We’d better make sure we stay out of her way,” I said. “And Mark’s too, just in case he tells Auntie Jill that he saw us there.”

  We went out of the bedroom.

  “Don’t forget the membership card,” Kenny reminded Fliss.

  “That’ll be downstairs by the phone,” Fliss said confidently. “My mum always keeps stuff like that there.”

  We all went down the stairs really quietly, just in case Mrs Proudlove came out to check on us again. Luckily, she didn’t. Fliss stopped by the phone table in the hall, and quickly went through the letters and bits of paper which were lying there.

  “It’s not here!” she gasped.

  “Oh no!” Kenny groaned.
“Well, where else would it be?”

  “It might be in my mum’s sports bag,” Fliss said doubtfully. “Hang on, no, it isn’t. I remember her saying that she’d emptied everything out.”

  “It could be anywhere!” Rosie said, looking around.

  “I’ve seen it this morning.” Fliss frowned, trying to remember. “I know I’ve seen it.”

  “Think, Fliss, think!” Kenny urged her.

  We all stood around, while Fliss racked her brains.

  “The kitchen!” Fliss said triumphantly, at last. “I saw it lying on the worktop.”

  We were just about to dash into the kitchen, when we all froze. A door had opened overhead, and there was the sound of footsteps.

  “My mum must have finished with her client!” Fliss wailed. “If she sees me with all this make-up on, she’ll guess we’re up to something.”

  “Quick, we’ve got to get that card!” Kenny hissed.

  Fliss ran into the kitchen. As we heard Mrs Proudlove and her client at the top of the stairs, Fliss dashed out again, waving the card in the air.

  “I’ve got it!”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said, and we all raced out of the front door.

  We collected our bikes from the Proudloves’ front garden, and cycled off to the tennis club. It was a really warm and sunny day, and we were all sweating a bit by the time we got there. Or maybe it was just nerves!

  “I’m scared,” Fliss moaned, as we locked our bikes up in the club car park.

  “You’ll be fine,” Kenny said. “Just think about the M&Ms’ faces when they see us inside the club.”

  “I hope they’re there,” I said. “Or this will all be a big waste of time.”

  “They’ll be there,” Kenny said.

  We didn’t go straight up to the entrance. Instead, we hung around on the edge of the car park, trying to see if the same man from yesterday was on duty.

  “It’s OK,” Kenny said in a low voice. “It’s a different guy.”

  We all marched up to the entrance. Fliss’s knees were knocking together so much, though, we practically had to carry her.

  “Membership cards, please.” The man at the turnstile was a bit younger than the one from yesterday, and not quite so snooty.