Even better, I wished I’d never set eyes on Emily Berryman and her horrid bag in my life.
My friends were all just standing there, opening and shutting their mouths like goldfish. They couldn’t believe what’d happened. Well, that made five of us.
I got up and started stuffing my things angrily into my rucksack. “If you hadn’t been so picky about your yoghurt, Fliss, I never would’ve got into this mess,” I said.
“Hey!” Fliss protested. “It wasn’t my fault! It was your stupid idea…”
“Stop it!” yelled Frankie. Then, more quietly, she said, “It was the M&Ms’ fault for ruining Kenny’s pig in the first place. Come on, guys – we’d better get going.”
We all grabbed our bags and headed out of the classroom.
As we were crossing the playground I dodged round Frankie so I could walk next to Fliss. “Look, I didn’t mean it back there,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK.” Fliss nodded. “I’d be really upset too if I were you.”
Just then Lyndz bounced up behind us and flung her arms round me. “It’s not fair!” she wailed, squeezing me really tight. “It won’t be a proper Sleepover Club trip without Kenny!”
“Too right it won’t!” I said. I know it’s really mean, but I couldn’t bear the thought that they’d all be going on this fabulous holiday without me. “Hey…” I stopped in my tracks – the others stopped too. “Maybe the Sleepover Club should boycott the trip – you know, as a protest?” I said. “If one of us stays home, we all stay home!”
There was a silence. “Er… maybe,” said Lyndz.
“Oh, forget it,” I said grumpily. “I’ll be fine. Send me a postcard, guys.” And I stomped off.
It’s not like me to get down about things, but that night I was a real misery-guts. I think Mum and Dad presumed I’d had a row with my sister Molly – a good guess, since she’s about as annoying as they come and having to share a bedroom with her is torture. I didn’t want to tell them what had happened at school, because I couldn’t bear another lecture, and anyway I knew Molly would be all sarky and superior about it. Why does anyone think having sisters is a nice thing?
When I woke up the next morning, I felt fine – for about five minutes. Then I remembered everything and my heart sank with this awful whump. I didn’t want to go to school and have to listen to people talking about Devon all day and how cool it was going to be.
But I had no choice (if your dad’s a doctor, like mine, pretending to be sick never gets you the day off school).
I’d just walked in through the school gate when I saw the freakiest thing. You’ll laugh, I know, but I had to sit down on one of the playground benches, because I honestly thought I was having a funny turn.
What I saw was this: Frankie talking to Emily Berryman. They were actually having a conversation. Neither of them looked like they were enjoying it much, it’s true, but they weren’t yelling or pinching each other or taking the mickey.
“All right, Kenny?” said Lyndz, bounding up to me.
“What’s going on?” I said, pointing at Frankie.
“Oh that,” said Lyndz, all breezy like it wasn’t strange at all. “Just a Sleepover Club plan.”
I looked at her. “What do you mean? How come I don’t know about it? I’m in the Sleepover Club!” A horrible thought – that they’d thrown me out for being grumpy yesterday – shot into my brain. “Aren’t I?”
“Course you are,” laughed Lyndz. “Don’t worry. The rest of us talked on the phone last night and decided we had to do something to help, that’s all.”
I didn’t have a clue what to say – and that’s a rarity for loudmouth McKenzie, I can tell you. I didn’t much like the idea that Frankie, Lyndz, Rosie and Fliss had been talking last night and had left me out of it. On the other hand, I felt a whole heap better knowing that my friends were on the case.
“So – spill. What’s the plan?” I said.
“Ask Frankie,” said Lyndz. And before I could grab her and threaten her with a Chinese burn, she’d dashed off.
So I legged it across the playground towards Frankie, but as I passed the window of Mrs Poole’s office, I slammed on the brakes and did a major double take. It couldn’t be… it was! Fliss and Rosie were in there, talking to Mrs Poole. What on earth was going on?
This was seriously weird. Shaking my head, I set off again. By now, Frankie had finished her cosy chat with the Goblin.
“What’s going on, Frankie Thomas?” I demanded, grabbing her round her middle. “Tell me, or I’ll tickle you till you wee yourself!”
“Aaaagh! Ah-ah-ah, noooo!” Even when she’s doubled up with giggles, Frankie’s a good match for anyone. With one nifty move, she twisted out of my grip and leapt away, laughing. “You’ll find out, Sherlock! We’ve got a plan. It may not work, though…”
Just then the bell rang.
What could I do? Short of biffing Frankie with my rucksack (and I was in enough trouble anyway, thank you very much), I couldn’t think of a thing. So I tramped inside along with everyone else and sat there like a lemon while Mrs Weaver took the register. Just as she got to the Ts there was a knock on the classroom door. It was Mrs Lynch, the seriously scary school secretary.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mrs Weaver,” she said, “but could you spare Emily Berryman for a moment? Mrs Poole would like to see her.”
“Of course,” said Mrs Weaver, looking surprised. “Run along, Emily.”
Though Mrs Weaver looked surprised, the Goblin didn’t. She shot Frankie a look I couldn’t fathom, and followed Mrs Lynch out of the room.
I have to say, when Emily came back ten minutes later and said to Mrs Weaver that now old Pooley wanted to see me, I was past being surprised. Mrs Poole could have walked in with a blancmange elephant on her head and I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid (though I might have fallen off my chair laughing).
As I stood up, Frankie squeezed my hand. “Good luck,” she whispered. Good luck with what? I wondered. Was I going to be carted off to the Tower of London after all?
When I reached her office, though, I found Mrs Poole looking a lot jollier than the day before.
“Some more facts have come to light about yesterday’s unfortunate incident with the yoghurt, Laura,” she said. “I understand that there had been some provocation.”
“Yes, Mrs Poole,” I began. “I tried to tell you…”
But Mrs Poole held up her hand. “Emily admitted to me that she and Emma ruined your papier-mâché project. However, this was no excuse for what you did. If someone behaves badly, you only bring yourself down to their level by retaliating – do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Still, I do see that in the circumstances, banning you alone from the Devon activity week seems unfair.” Mrs Poole frowned. “I could of course make you, Emma and Emily all stay behind…”
Aaargh! The thought of having a week alone with the M&Ms was so hideous it made me feel dizzy.
Luckily, Mrs Poole quickly went on, “…but some of your classmates made an appeal to me this morning, saying that they wouldn’t enjoy the trip without you. How lovely to have such loyal friends, Laura!”
I nodded again as a big grin crept over my face. Way to go, Sleepover Club!
“So – as long as Mrs Weaver and I can find no fault whatsoever with your behaviour during the next three weeks,” said Mrs Poole, “I’ve decided that you can go to