said briskly. “And anyway, it’s high time you had a bath, young lady. Look at the colour of your neck! What have you been doing – rolling around in mud or something?”
“Of course not!” I said grumpily, going up to the bathroom. Well, I wasn’t about to tell her I’d been timing myself doing circuits of forward and backward rolls around the garden, was I? Especially as I’d managed to kick quite a lot of her flowers in the process.
So even though I was bursting to tell everyone about the carnival, I wasn’t able to say anything until the next day at school. And even THEN, it didn’t go according to plan.
I went up to school extra fast the next morning. Yeah, I know – that’s not like me at all! Even though I’m pretty speedy on my feet most of the time, the journey to school somehow takes me a lot longer than if I’m going to the swimming baths or to a footy match or something. Strange, isn’t it? It’s as if my feet just can’t bear to take me to such a boring place. Well, that’s my theory anyway.
The others were already in the playground when I got there. “Hi!” I said excitedly, rushing over to them. “Guess what? I’ve got some wicked news to tell you!”
“What?” Frankie, Lyndz and Rosie said at once, but Fliss just frowned. “I was actually in the middle of telling everyone what the twins did last night,” she said huffily. “So let me finish first!”
Frankie rolled her eyes at me, and Rosie bit her lip, trying not to giggle at the cross look on my face. Lyndz, who’s definitely the most patient one of us five, was the only one listening to Fliss’s boring story about what her baby sister and brother had been up to now.
“And you’ll never guess where I found Hannah’s rattle in the end,” Fliss said at long last, building up to a dramatic climax. “In the fridge!”
“Really? In the fridge?” Lyndz asked. “How had it got in there?”
“Well,” Fliss began – but Frankie was just a smidgen too quick for her.
“C’mon, Kenz – what’s your news? You look like you’re about to burst with it!” she said.
“Get a load of this,” I said importantly, “Mum told me last night that—”
PEEEEPPPP!
Curses! Now it was Mrs Poole our headteacher’s turn to interrupt me, blowing the whistle to get us to line up and go into school.
“What is it?” hissed Frankie as we lined up in front of Mrs Weaver.
“Tell you later,” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. The Cuddington carnival wasn’t something I wanted to whisper to the others just before we went into class. I needed time to tell them about it properly.
But then, wouldn’t you know it? It just wasn’t going to be my day for breaking the news. As soon as we’d had the register, Mrs Weaver smiled a big smile at us and said she had something exciting to tell us about. Then she pulled down the blackboard to show one word: CARNIVAL.
Aaaaarggghhh! So all in all, I’d been scuppered by:
Emma – using the phone
Mum – who’d made me go to bed
Fliss – who wouldn’t let me interrupt her boring story
Mrs Poole – blowing the whistle just at the crucial moment
And Mrs Weaver – telling everyone about the carnival before I could. Gutted!
I wasn’t gutted for too long, of course. First, because I never stay in a mood for longer than about five minutes, and second, because Mrs Weaver had a lot more information about the carnival than my mum had.
For starters, she told us all about how we were going to get involved. “As well as bands, fairground rides and stalls, there will be a procession of floats along the high street,” she said. “Each float has a particular theme. There’ll be lots of people wearing costumes, and all the floats will be decorated differently. Best of all, Cuddington Primary School is going to have its own float – and it’s going to be designed and decorated by YOU!”
Everyone looked excited at that. This sounded like fun!
“I haven’t finished yet,” she said, smiling. “The top classes – that’s ours and Mr Phillips’ class – are responsible for actually putting together the float. The younger classes are going to put together a display of pictures for the library. So I want you all to come up with a good theme for us to have for the float. Now…”
“Football!” Simon Graham said at once.
I grinned at him and gave him the thumbs-up. I’d be on for that one!
“Horse rising!” Lyndz blurted out eagerly.
“Harry Potter!” someone else shouted.
Mrs Weaver banged on the desk with her ruler. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” she said. “There’ll be plenty of time for your ideas later. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to find out more about the carnival before you all start shouting things out?”
The classroom went quiet.
“Now,” Mrs Weaver continued, “do you remember when it was the millennium and the whole world looked back over the last thousand years? Well, this year marks one HUNDRED years of Cuddington – as far as we can tell. Lots of the old buildings in the village were built in 1901 – for example, the main bank on the high street, the library, the old grammar school and most importantly, the big stone cross in the marketplace. 1901 also saw the beginning of the weekly farmers’ market where local people could buy and sell pigs, sheep and cows, as well as fruit and vegetables. The market’s a bit different these days, but it’s still going strong, after all this time.”
I looked at Lyndz, who had this dead wistful expression on her face. I just knew she was wishing that you could still buy piglets and lambs at Cuddington market. Lyndz is totally soppy about baby animals. Unfortunately, the market only sells things like tea towels and big granny pants these days.
“So that’s the main reason for the carnival – it’s to celebrate one hundred years of Cuddington’s history,” Mrs Weaver said.
A few people pulled faces at that – me and Frankie included.
“So bearing in mind this historical theme, has anyone got any ideas for the float now?” Mrs Weaver said.
“Grannies,” Frankie said under her breath.
Unfortunately, Mrs Weaver has ear radar of her own. “What was that, Francesca?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
Frankie had to think quickly. “Er… grannies,” she said. “We could all dress up as old grannies, and play bingo, and…”
“I don’t think so, thank you, Francesca,” Mrs Weaver said in her scariest no-nonsense voice. “Anyone else got any brilliant ideas?”
The M&Ms both smirked nastily at Frankie. Creeps! They’re our enemies, if you didn’t know. Emma Hughes and Emily Berryman, to be precise – but we don’t like to waste our breath on their yucky names, so we call them the M&Ms instead. Ever seen Star Wars? I always expect that creepy Darth Vader music to start up whenever they walk into the room. One of these days, I swear they’re going to say to us, “Turn to the dark side, Sleepover Club!”
Emma put her hand up, all sickly-sweet smiles. “Miss, how about a tribute to all the famous people of Cuddington?” she said.
Mrs Weaver frowned. “Who were you thinking of, Emma?” she asked.
That stumped her! “Er… Well, my aunt was on Blind Date last