It was after another boring day at school (surprise, surprise) and I’d gone home and dug out my books on science to do yet more revision. You see what a good girl I am! Anyway, after I’d read through details of the solar system about a million times and filled in a factsheet Mrs Weaver had given us for homework, my head was in a spin, never mind all those planets. I figured what I needed was a nice chocolate milkshake to settle my brain cells down again. So I headed down to the kitchen to make one.
Mum was listening to some dweeby programme on the radio. You know the kind where some sad geezer spends half an hour chatting to an old crumbly, then plays a song which was last in the charts when Queen Victoria was on the throne.
“Hello love. Are you having a break?” Mum asked, brushing flour from her hands. She’s a wicked baker is my mum, and I was pleased to see that she’d knocked up one of her yummy pies for supper.
But all thoughts of food went right out of my head when I heard what was on the radio. The newsreader was explaining very seriously about the chaos which had occurred in Leicester that afternoon due to a major flood in the Community Hall.
Now I know that isn’t exactly earth-shattering news, and to be honest it didn’t mean much at all to start with. Until the newsreader went on to say that all functions which were due to take place there over the next few weeks would have to be rearranged whilst the hall was cleared out and the damage assessed.
Suddenly my little grey cells began to whir into action. I remembered that the gymnastics competition was due to be held at the Community Hall. That certainly couldn’t happen now, could it? There was just a glimmer of hope that we might be able to enter it again. Unless it was going to be held somewhere else on the same day …
I had to wait until the local evening news on TV to find out. All the time I was waiting I felt sick. I couldn’t even manage much of Mum’s pie and that really worried her. She kept looking at me anxiously and asking me if I’d been overdoing my work. Classic!
The news about the Community Hall finally came on, and the reporter made a big deal about the gymnastics competition being cancelled there, because of course the TV company was sponsoring it.
“So now there will be three heats for the competition,” the reporter announced. “And the winners of each will go through to a grand final. The heats will be held at Shalton Town Hall, Knaresby Community Rooms and Cuddington Leisure Centre…”
Cuddington Leisure Centre! I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. I tried to focus on what she was saying next and I started praying that the heats wouldn’t still be held on Saturday 18th May.
“… and all the heats will now take place on Saturday 1st June.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I started leaping round the room, punching the air.
Molly walked past and snarled, “Saddo!” but I didn’t care, I was just so thrilled. It was like a sign that we had to enter the competition. It was as though we were destined to win it!
And that’s just what Frankie and Fliss thought when I told them too.
“It’s amazing!” Frankie agreed when I phoned her. “Our parents have just got to let us enter it now.”
“Yeah, but you know what happened last time.”
“What happened to you and Fliss, you mean,” Frankie reminded me. “The rest of us managed not to get so carried away, thank you very much.”
She had a point there.
“We’ll have to stay cool this time,” I warned Fliss when I spoke to her later. “SATs have to come first, OK? At least that way we’ll keep our parents off our backs and they’ll have no reason to stop us entering the competition.”
“Yeah, ’course,” Fliss agreed breezily. “But isn’t it cool that the date’s moved? It’s like the flood happened just so we could enter it again, isn’t it?”
“Yep, you feel like the television programme already has our name on it, don’t you?” I giggled. “Sleepover Club: Gymnastic Stars! does have a certain ring…”
Rosie and Lyndz had already heard the news when I phoned them. Neither of them seemed that excited, to be honest. Rosie tends to be quite cool about stuff anyway, and doesn’t get as wound up as the rest of us. But I think poor Lyndz had actually been relieved when the dates had clashed last time. Now she’d have to start practising her gymnastic moves all over again.
Still, when we got to school the next day, the competition was all we could talk about.
“We’ve been given this chance again, so we’ve just got to make it count,” I told the others seriously. “We’ll have to get some serious practice in, ’cos don’t forget we’ve already missed valuable rehearsal time.”
I did a couple of walkover-cartwheel combos just to prove that I hadn’t lost my touch. Then Fliss joined me in her routine of arabesque, handstand, walkover and stag leap.
“Way to go, Fliss!” I applauded her. I mean, I know she was showing off and everything, but she did look like a pretty mean gymnast. And besides, if we both performed like that in the competition there was no way we were going to lose. Even if Lyndz did look about as elegant as a chimpanzee with tummy-ache when she did her routine.
“We really ought to get our parents’ permission this time, you know,” Rosie suggested. “I mean, there’s no point getting all geared up for the competition again if they completely refuse to let us enter it.”
She had a point, but I felt a bit queasy just thinking about it. After all, I had messed up my mock science test, hadn’t I? And Mum had been pretty scary when she’d warned me about my education coming first. I’d just have to prove to her that I was serious about working for the SATs.
“We might as well get it over with and see what they say this evening,” Frankie decided. “As my gran always says, there’s no time like the present.”
I tried not to think about what would happen if Mum absolutely refused to let me join in the competition. And I could tell that Fliss was getting pretty worked up about asking her mum too. My mum is like Snow White compared to Mrs Proudlove – she can be like the Wicked Witch of the West in stilettos even on a good day!
Before we went our separate ways that afternoon, we had a group hug.
“Remember, we’ve got to enter this competition if we’re going to be TV stars,” I told the others severely. “So go out there and do some serious grovelling, do you understand?”
“We understand,” they nodded solemnly.
“Sleepover Club rules!” I yelled.
“Sleepover Club rules!” they repeated and we all leapt in the air and did high fives.
So I was feeling pretty pumped up when I got home. But finding the right moment to ask Mum about the competition was harder than I’d expected. The one thing I did know was that I didn’t want Molly the Monster anywhere near me when I was doing my grovelling. For one thing she’d never let me forget it if she heard me, and for another, she’d be sure to start stirring it with Mum. But wouldn’t you know it? That particular evening was the one she’d chosen to come over all goody-goody by doing her homework in our room. She didn’t even leave me alone for a minute to go to the bathroom, for goodness sake.
I had planned to build up to asking Mum about the competition by telling her how well I’d been doing in the revision classes and showing her all the revision I’d done by myself. But that had to go completely out of the window. Instead I had to grab my opportunity the minute Molly’s mate Carli rang up after supper.
Mum was in the kitchen washing up by herself, so I grabbed a tea towel and started to help her.
“All right, what do you want?” she smiled.
“Aw Mum, nothing… well, there is something actually,” I spluttered.
“Now why does that not surprise me?” Mum grinned. “Go on then, what is it?”
“WellgymnasticscompetitionwasbeforeSATs nowaftersocanweenterit?”
I couldn’t believe what rubbish had just come out of my mouth. It was like my brain was working too fast for my mouth and my tongue had somehow got stuck to my teeth.
“Do you think you could say that again? In English this time,” Mum asked.
I explained how the date of the competition had been changed and how we were all working really hard for our SATs.
“We won’t even think about gymnastics until after the tests, I promise – cross my heart and hope to die!” I told her very solemnly.
Mum looked at me steadily. “Hmmm, Laura. Can I believe you, I wonder?”
“Aww Mum! ’Course you can,” I pleaded. “I really want to do well in these tests. And you can ask Mrs Weaver how hard I’ve been working if you don’t believe me.”
“Well actually, I don’t need to do that,” Mum said lightly. “I saw her yesterday and she told me how pleased with you she was. In fact she remarked how all of your friends were really buckling down to some hard work. I must say I felt quite proud of you!”
I rushed over to her and gave her a big hug.
“Does that mean you’ll let me enter the competition then?”
“Yes…”
“YESSSS!” I punched the air, then grabbed her and did a dance around the kitchen.
“… as I was saying,” Mum carried on when I’d finally stopped spinning her round. “You can enter it only if you promise to get your SATs out of the way before you start planning your routines.”
“Of course,” I nodded. Most of the routines were planned anyway, weren’t they? So a week should be long enough to perfect them before the competition.
A sudden burst of inspiration struck me.
“How about a revision sleepover to set us on our way before the SATs?” I asked cheekily. “We haven’t had one for ages and it would really calm us down.”
“We’re way ahead of you there, my girl!” Mum slapped me playfully with her wet dishcloth. “I’ve spoken to all your friends’ mums and we agreed that as you’d put in such a lot of hard work recently you could have a sleepover the Friday before the tests start.”
“Mum you’re brilliant!” I gave her a Kenny Special until she was gasping for air. “Is it going to be here then?”
“Erm, not exactly.” Mum sat down to get her breath back. “It’ll be with Nikki and Andy.”
I started to protest but Mum put her hand up.
“Felicity’s mum wasn’t too keen on the idea at first. The only reason she agreed was because if you had it there, she could keep an eye on you.” Mum looked at me apologetically.
Ah well, a sleepover at Fliss’s was better than no sleepover at all, wasn’t it? We could still have fun, couldn’t we? Well, couldn’t we?
Now, as you must know by now, sleepovers at Fliss’s aren’t the most relaxing in the world. The thing is, Mrs Proudlove isn’t really geared up to our sort of fun. She expects us to sit down and be ladylike at all times. You know the kind of thing,
“I say Felicity darling, would you be so good as to pass me one of those spiffing cream cakes?”
“Oh absolutely, Kenny old bean. I say, they really are sooper-dooper scrumptious!”
Pukerama! And of course, by the time this sleepover came round we were all a bit frazzled after so much revision, not to mention totally hyper because the dreaded SATs were almost upon us. Plus we knew that the gymnastics competition was looming up too. PHEW! It makes you exhausted just thinking about it, doesn’t it?
Anyway, on the Friday evening we all piled round to Fliss’s, clutching not only our sleeping bags and sleepover kit, but also piles of school books. This was supposed to be a revision sleepover after all.
“Do come in Lau—” Fliss’s mum greeted me at the door. I flashed her one of my looks. “… erm, Kenny. Now take your shoes off, there’s a good girl. The others are already up in Felicity’s room revising. Oh, I don’t envy you girls, I really don’t. I keep telling Felicity how very important these SATs tests are. I wasn’t at all sure about having this sleepover you know. You will promise to work hard won’t you L—Kenny dear and not lead the others astray, hmm? I know what a little bundle of energy you can be!”
She gave me one of her tight, false little smiles. So I beamed back with my broadest, most innocent grin. “Oh Mrs P, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything silly tonight,” I told her seriously. “Not when you’ve been good enough to let us have our sleepover here.”
Mrs Proudlove looked at me with a funny expression on her face. Like she didn’t know whether to believe me or not. She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it and gestured for me to go up to Fliss’s room.
“What is your mum like?” I squealed as I burst through the door. “Accusing me of leading you all astray. As if!”
But if anyone looked like they needed to be led astray, this lot did. They were sitting in a row on Fliss’s bed, seriously studying some maths worksheets and working out the answers in their little notebooks.
“Oh-oh, swot alert!” I groaned and dumped my stuff in the corner of the room. “It looks like I’ve got here just in time. Ten minutes later and you’d have turned into a right load of anoraks.”
“We’re just going over those maths problems Mrs Weaver set us,” Fliss explained primly. “We are supposed to be revising, you know Kenny.”
“Pardon me for breathing!” I retorted. “But there is such a thing as work overload, you know. There comes a point where your brain just can’t take in any new information, so whatever you revise is a waste of time. There was a programme about it not so long ago.”
Frankie put down her book. “You know Kenz, I remember seeing that too,” she said seriously. “The presenter guy said that when that happens, you must stop working straight away, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Rosie chipped in. “’Cos if you don’t your brain will explode for sure.”
“How can you stop it happening?” Lyndz asked anxiously.
“Well,” I explained. “He said that to get your brain cells working again, you absolutely must…” I produced my pillow from behind my back. “… have a pillow fight!”
I thwacked Frankie over the head and she went flying back on to the bed. She struggled to grab hold of Fliss’s pillow then brought it crashing into Rosie.
“Hey watch it!” Rosie yelped, and rushed to grab hold of hers.
Soon a full-scale fight had broken out, with Fliss rushing between us squealing, “I really don’t think we should. Please. Mum will go ballistic if she catches us.”
Fortunately, the twins Joe and Hannah were in full-on howling mode downstairs, so Mrs Proudlove had more than enough to keep her busy without disturbing us. And by the time she did come upstairs to tell us that dinner was ready, we were all exhausted and had crashed out on the floor. Fortunately Frankie had heard her coming.
“Here, grab these,” she whispered, dishing out the rather crumpled maths worksheets.
As soon as Fliss’s mum came into the room, I piped up, “I reckon the answer to question seventeen is ‘a rhombus’. Does everyone else?”
“Yep.”
“Sure do!”
“Well girls, I’m so glad to see you’re working hard,” Mrs Proudlove beamed. “But I think it’s about time you had a break for some food. We can’t have you working so hard that you faint, can we?” Her silly little tinkly laugh wafted after her down the stairs.
“There wasn’t a question seventeen, you dill!” Frankie punched me playfully on the arm.
“So?” I grinned. “It fooled Mrs P, didn’t it?”
Now I don’t know about you, but when I think of the kind of food I want after a hard day’s revision, I think of pizza or fish and chips or jumbo apple pie with lashings of custard. I don’t think of piddly little sandwiches and iced fairy cakes. No wonder Fliss is so thin, if that’s the kind of food she gets to eat when she’s working.
“If I had to estimate what fraction of my tummy is full after that meal,” I whispered to Frankie, “I’d have to say two fifths at the most.”
“Sssh!”
“And the probability of me keeping the rest of you awake all night with my rumbly tum is approximately a
hundred per cent!”
Frankie by that time had dissolved into laughter.
“Is everything all right, girls?” Mrs Proudlove asked anxiously.
“Yes thank you,” I nodded. “I was just wondering whether I could have another of your delicious cakes. I always find that working hard makes me very hungry.”
“Of course, sweetie.” Fliss’s mum smiled and offered me the plate.
“Thanks,” I said and scooped about three of them into my hand whilst I had the chance.
“So girls, do you think you’ll be all ready for Monday?” Mrs Proudlove asked us eagerly. “I know you’ve been working extra hard, but you’ve just time to do a little bit more revision before bed. It will help your tummies settle down nicely.”
I rolled my eyes at the others and we headed back up to Fliss’s room.
“She’s a bit of a slave driver, your mum,” I moaned to Fliss. “Does she go on about the SATs all the time?”
“She just wants me to do well,” Fliss snapped back.
“So does mine, but she kind of leaves the pressure off,” Rosie admitted, pulling an apologetic face at Fliss.
“My parents,” began Lyndz, “just say they want me to…”
“… TRY YOUR BEST!” we all chanted together and collapsed into giggles.
“Do you think we should just do a bit of science before bed?” Fliss asked quietly. The rest of us groaned and went to get our textbooks out of our bags. But the more we looked at them the less sense they made. The human skeleton, the food chain… it all blurred into one.
“Do you know what we need?” I shouted, jumping up. “We need something to completely take our minds off these stupid SATs. And what better than… gymnastics!”
The others didn’t look too convinced.
“I’m not sure, Kenny.” Fliss had gone white. “We promised our parents we wouldn’t think about it until next weekend. Mum’ll do her nut if she finds out we’ve been practising for the competition.”
Sleepover Girls Go Gymtastic! Page 4
