Free Sleepover Club Blitz by Angie Bates
Authors: Angie Bates
them?” And she went tiptapping frantically after Owen on her high heels.
“Will you STOP moaning on?” we heard Owen whinge. “Anyway, you shouldn’t wear that dress. It makes you look really old and fat!”
My mates stared after him. They looked completely dazed, as if they’d suddenly woken up from a long and rather strange dream. They’d finally realised that Prince Owen was a slimy frog after all.
Lyndz swallowed. “Erm,” she croaked. “I have an important announcement. My humiliating crush is finally dead and buried.”
Kenny looked queasy. “Ditto,” she said.
Frankie nodded. “Yeah,” she said huskily. “Next time I fancy someone, it’ll be an actual person. Not someone’s sad little pet poodle.”
Lyndz giggled. “Give Mummy a proper smile, you naughty boy!” she spluttered.
I noticed Fliss hadn’t said a word.
“What about you, Fliss?” I asked cautiously “Do you still fancy Owen?”
She looked scandalised. “Don’t be
stoopid
! I went off him AGES ago!” And she went back to gazing fondly at Ryan Scott.
That was totally music to my ears. “Thank goodness for that!” I sighed. “It was like, you were all possessed by the evil LURVE demon!”
My mates cracked up laughing, and suddenly they were all hugging me and jumping up and down and howling, “Yuck! Ugh! Gross!! How come we EVER fancied him?!”
The M&Ms glared at us through narrowed eyes. It’s their meanest (and commonest) expression. They’d given up pretending to have a ball by this time. I gave them a cheery wave, which only made them madder than ever, heh heh heh!
Then I took a giant bite out of my yummy Union Jack cake. And as I watched Iris’s great-grandchildren jitterbugging happily to a funky Glenn Miller tune called
Little Brown Jug
, I wished with all my heart that revenge could
always
taste so sweet!!
That night we held our regular sleepover at my house. But first my mates went home to collect their kit, plus the usual stash of goodies.
Normally, I rush around like a headless chicken, fretting about the tragically unfinished state of our house. But this time I just chilled out in front of the TV. (“Hello lovely TV!”) So I was surprised to get a really bizarre phone call from Frankie.
She sounded like she was having hysterics. “You are not going to believe what I’ve just found out!” she yelped. “This is SO the end of the line for Owen Cartwright!!” Then her voice changed. “Izzy, don’t put that in your mouth!” And she clunked down the phone.
That is so typically Frankie. Can you believe she’d rung everybody in the Sleepover Club? Then, having made us wild with curiosity, she refused to say a single dicky bird while Mum and Tiff were around.
Tea was total
agony.
We were dying to hear Frankie’s scandal, but everyone felt they had to be polite to Mum – you know how it is.
“So let’s hear about this wonderful Blitz weekend!” Mum beamed. “Rosie’s hardly said a word about it.”
“It’s really difficult to talk about,” Frankie explained. “It’s more like, you had to be there.”
“It’s something you feel!” Kenny agreed.
“Yeah,” giggled Lyndz. “Like hiccups.”
And we all giggled like total idiots.
Mum had borrowed the video of
The Parent Trap.
No-one wanted to hurt her feelings, so we sat through an hour and a half of like, total Hollywood fluff. It was quite good fun, though!
But at last we were up in my lovely room, putting on our night-things. (“Hello, twenty-first century jimjams! Hello cosy duvet!”)
Mum came up to say goodnight. “You’re very quiet,” she said suspiciously
“Oh, don’t worry about us, Mrs Cartwright,” said Lyndz at once. “I expect we’re just tired after all the excitement.”
“Hmmn,” said Mum, who is nobody’s fool. She switched off the light.
We listened to her footsteps go downstairs, then everyone switched on their torches.
“Right!” said Kenny at once. “What’s this juicy
“Will you STOP moaning on?” we heard Owen whinge. “Anyway, you shouldn’t wear that dress. It makes you look really old and fat!”
My mates stared after him. They looked completely dazed, as if they’d suddenly woken up from a long and rather strange dream. They’d finally realised that Prince Owen was a slimy frog after all.
Lyndz swallowed. “Erm,” she croaked. “I have an important announcement. My humiliating crush is finally dead and buried.”
Kenny looked queasy. “Ditto,” she said.
Frankie nodded. “Yeah,” she said huskily. “Next time I fancy someone, it’ll be an actual person. Not someone’s sad little pet poodle.”
Lyndz giggled. “Give Mummy a proper smile, you naughty boy!” she spluttered.
I noticed Fliss hadn’t said a word.
“What about you, Fliss?” I asked cautiously “Do you still fancy Owen?”
She looked scandalised. “Don’t be
stoopid
! I went off him AGES ago!” And she went back to gazing fondly at Ryan Scott.
That was totally music to my ears. “Thank goodness for that!” I sighed. “It was like, you were all possessed by the evil LURVE demon!”
My mates cracked up laughing, and suddenly they were all hugging me and jumping up and down and howling, “Yuck! Ugh! Gross!! How come we EVER fancied him?!”
The M&Ms glared at us through narrowed eyes. It’s their meanest (and commonest) expression. They’d given up pretending to have a ball by this time. I gave them a cheery wave, which only made them madder than ever, heh heh heh!
Then I took a giant bite out of my yummy Union Jack cake. And as I watched Iris’s great-grandchildren jitterbugging happily to a funky Glenn Miller tune called
Little Brown Jug
, I wished with all my heart that revenge could
always
taste so sweet!!
That night we held our regular sleepover at my house. But first my mates went home to collect their kit, plus the usual stash of goodies.
Normally, I rush around like a headless chicken, fretting about the tragically unfinished state of our house. But this time I just chilled out in front of the TV. (“Hello lovely TV!”) So I was surprised to get a really bizarre phone call from Frankie.
She sounded like she was having hysterics. “You are not going to believe what I’ve just found out!” she yelped. “This is SO the end of the line for Owen Cartwright!!” Then her voice changed. “Izzy, don’t put that in your mouth!” And she clunked down the phone.
That is so typically Frankie. Can you believe she’d rung everybody in the Sleepover Club? Then, having made us wild with curiosity, she refused to say a single dicky bird while Mum and Tiff were around.
Tea was total
agony.
We were dying to hear Frankie’s scandal, but everyone felt they had to be polite to Mum – you know how it is.
“So let’s hear about this wonderful Blitz weekend!” Mum beamed. “Rosie’s hardly said a word about it.”
“It’s really difficult to talk about,” Frankie explained. “It’s more like, you had to be there.”
“It’s something you feel!” Kenny agreed.
“Yeah,” giggled Lyndz. “Like hiccups.”
And we all giggled like total idiots.
Mum had borrowed the video of
The Parent Trap.
No-one wanted to hurt her feelings, so we sat through an hour and a half of like, total Hollywood fluff. It was quite good fun, though!
But at last we were up in my lovely room, putting on our night-things. (“Hello, twenty-first century jimjams! Hello cosy duvet!”)
Mum came up to say goodnight. “You’re very quiet,” she said suspiciously
“Oh, don’t worry about us, Mrs Cartwright,” said Lyndz at once. “I expect we’re just tired after all the excitement.”
“Hmmn,” said Mum, who is nobody’s fool. She switched off the light.
We listened to her footsteps go downstairs, then everyone switched on their torches.
“Right!” said Kenny at once. “What’s this juicy