We call her the Queen because she thinks she is one. She goes around with her nose stuck in the air like the rest of us stink or something. If she ever went to Buckingham Palace, she’d expect the real Queen to curtsey to her. What’s really irritating, though, is that all the teachers think she’s wonderful.
“As if we wanted to listen to what idiots like you were saying anyway,” growled Emily Berryman (The Goblin). We call her that because she’s really tiny with great big eyes and a deep voice. If you put a hat on her and gave her a fishing rod, she’d look exactly like a garden gnome.
“Oh, yeah?” I said. “Well, your ears were flapping so much, you looked like you were about to take off and fly round the classroom.”
“Like Dumbo,” Frankie added, and we all fell about.
Emma turned red with anger. She likes to think she’s perfect, but the truth is, her ears do stick out just a little bit. She opened her mouth to say something nasty in return, but just then Mrs Weaver, our teacher, came in with the register under her arm.
“Sit down, everyone,” she said, looking round.
The M&Ms skipped smartly off to their table on the other side of the classroom, and I rolled my eyes at Frankie. It’s s-o-o-o annoying the way the Gruesome Twosome smarm up to the teachers, and pretend to be all sweet and nice, when really they’re stuck-up nerds.
Mrs Weaver sat down at her desk, and everyone stopped fidgeting and shut up. Mrs Weaver’s OK, but it’s best not to push her too far. Know what I mean?
“Before I do the register, I want to talk to you about our end-of-term trip next Friday.” Mrs Weaver beamed round at us as if she was planning to take the whole class to EuroDisney. “We’ll be going to visit the Armfield Museum, near Leicester, next Friday afternoon.”
“Oh, great big fat hairy deal,” I mouthed at the others. We’ve been to the Armfield Museum with the school a zillion times, plus our parents are always taking us there when it rains in the holidays, and there’s nothing else to do. We’ve been there so many times, it’s about as exciting as cutting your toenails. The rest of the class looked just as unimpressed as we did, and everyone started muttering and moaning under their breath.
“Awesome! The Armfield Museum!” Frankie said, just a bit sarcastically. “I’m s-o-o-o glad we’re not going to Alton Towers or some other boring old theme park where we might have some fun.”
“Oh, me too!” I joined in. “Who wants to go on a pathetic log flume when they could be looking at a load of broken old pots?”
Rosie was looking a bit blank.
“What’s the Armfield Museum?” she asked. Rosie’s fitted in so well into the Sleepover Club, that we keep forgetting she hasn’t been here that long.
“Funnily enough, it’s a museum,” I grinned.
“It’s OK, really,” said Lyndz. “It’s got loads of spooky stuff like Egyptian mummies.”
“Yeah, but when you’ve seen one mummy, you’ve seen them all,” said Fliss gloomily, and she looked so depressed, the rest of us started to giggle.
“When you’ve quite finished,” said Mrs Weaver, glaring round at everyone. The whole class shut up and looked at her again.
“This trip to the museum will be very different from other visits,” Mrs Weaver went on. “We’ll be having a guided tour, and workshop activities, but we will also be taking sleeping bags and sleeping overnight in the museum galleries.”
Well, that did it. The whole class went bananas, including the Sleepover Club.
“Awesome!” Frankie said again, but this time she meant it. “A sleepover in a museum!”
“The Sleepover Club sleeps out!” Lyndz said. “Excellent!”
“D’you think they’ll let us sleep in the room with the Egyptian mummies in it?” I asked eagerly. Then I clocked Fliss, who was looking a bit pea-green. “What’s biting you, Flissy?”
Fliss was looking as if she was going to be sick.
“I don’t think I want to sleep over in a museum,” she mumbled. “It’ll be scary.”
“You bet it will,” I said. “That’s why it’ll be excellent.”
Fliss looked even more spooked, and Frankie stuck her elbow in my ribs.
“Ow! What I mean is, it won’t be scary, Fliss. Not really. We’ll all be there to look after you.”
“Anyway, you can hold hands with Ryan Scott if you get scared, Fliss,” Lyndz said wickedly.
Fliss turned pink. We think boys are mostly pretty r-e-e-e-volting, but Fliss has a bit of a thing about Ryan Scott, who’s in our class.
“Ssshh!” Fliss whispered, glancing round at Ryan who sat at the table behind us. “He might hear you!”
“I never thought we’d be going to a sleepover with boys,” I said, which started us all giggling.
“Or teachers,” Rosie pointed out.
“Or the M&Ms,” Lyndz said.
That stopped us laughing. We all looked across the classroom at the Gruesome Twosome, who saw us staring, and stuck their noses in the air. I put my hands behind my ears, and waggled them at Emma, who turned purple with rage.
“We won’t have to sleep in the same room as them, will we?” Rosie asked anxiously.
“I’d rather sleep with the Egyptian mummies,” said Fliss. She was deadly serious too, which set us all off again.
Mrs Weaver had been trying to get us quiet again for the last five minutes, and now she’d just about managed it.
“I’ve got some letters for your parents with more details about the trip, which I’ll give out tonight.” Some people were still fidgeting with excitement and whispering to each other, and Mrs W glared at them until they stopped.
“And now it’s time to settle down and get on with some work. Blue and Green groups – Maths, Yellow and Red groups – topic workbooks. Oh, and Kenny—”
I jumped. I’d been daydreaming about Armfield Museum and wondering if I’d get a chance to shut the M&Ms inside one of those big mummy cases.
“Yes, Mrs Weaver?”
“It’s your turn to use the computer.” Mrs Weaver had to raise her voice because everyone else was already moving round, collecting their work from their lockers. “You’d better get on with that story you started last week.”
“OK, Miss.” I was well pleased. I love using the computer. The only thing is, it’s over the other side of the classroom, right next to the M&Ms’ table.
“Hey, Emily,” Emma said as I walked past them to get to the computer, “have you noticed that there’s a really horrible smell around here?”
“Oh, p-lease!” I said, sitting down at the computer desk. “I think I’ve heard that one before. You two have got no imagination!”
The M&Ms both turned red.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you!” Emma spluttered.
I grinned at her.
“By the way, Mrs Weaver’s watching you two,” I said under my breath.
The M&Ms both jumped, looked scared and quickly opened their maths books. I nearly died laughing. Mrs Weaver was actually writing on the blackboard, and had her back to the class.
“One up to me!” I said, and I licked my finger and drew a ‘I’ in the air. Then I turned my back on the Gruesome Twosome, and switched the computer on. I could hear them muttering to each other behind me, but I ignored them.
I