id="u4af71be6-863c-562f-932a-03eaaff82c60">
by Jana Hunter
Contents
Have you been Invited to all these Sleepovers?
Hi, how are you doing? Have you come to see the play? I’ve saved you a front-row seat. Excuse me, I must get on. I’ve got a ton of little black noses to paint before curtain time… We’ve got a conveyor belt going. Lots of little squirrels and weasels and bunnies, to say nothing of baby hedgehogs. Frankie is doing the spiky faces and Kenny is doing the furry ones. Rosie is doing the eyes and Lyndz is doing the whiskers. Our practice in Musical Make-up is a big help. (I’ll tell you about Musical Makeovers, when I’ve got a second to spare. Right now this is a madhouse.) The music starts and the beautiful, the wonderful, new school curtains swish open. Phew! Maybe this is a good moment to tell you all about it. You know, why the Sleepover Club is helping with the make-up and costumes for the Cuddington Players’ production of The Wind in the Willows and all that. What? You don’t know what the Sleepover Club is? Where have you been living, Planet Nowhere? No, sorry. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but everyone knows about the most coo-el gang of girls ever to hit Cuddington! We are: Frankie, Kenny, Lyndz, Rosie and me, Fliss (Felicity Proudlove in case you didn’t know). Our gang is famous for its ace sleepovers where we have fun with a capital F. We’re also famous for getting into trouble with a capital T, but it’s not our fault. We just can’t stop ourselves when we get going. Anyway, before all the big trouble with the clingfilm and the spots and the horror of being hauled off to prison for causing permanent damage to Molly the Monster’s face, we have to go back to the beginning… It all started a few weeks ago in Assembly. Mrs Poole, our headmistress, was making an announcement about the Cuddington Players. “This year,” she said, “the Cuddington Players will be using our very own school stage to put on their production of The Wind in the Willows. And I think they’re going to want some of you little ones to be animals…” There was the usual Cuddington Juniors’ excitement as the infants bounced about and squealed. And in the hullabaloo, Lyndz leant over and hissed, “Yeah, and my dad’s the producer of the play!” Lindsey’s dad, Keith, is Head of the Art Department at the Comprehensive we’re going to after Year Six. But as if that wasn’t enough, he produces plays with the Cuddington Players in his spare time! “The only trouble is,” Mrs Poole was going on, “we still don’t have any curtains for our stage…” Right on cue the whole school went, “Ohhhh…” just like the Teletubbies when they don’t want to wave bye-bye. Mrs Poole nodded. “Yes, ‘Ohhhh’. We can’t have a play without curtains now, can we?” “Noooo, Mrs Poole…” went all the little infants in the front row, as if they remembered last year’s school play when everyone had to line up on stage for the final bow in complete darkness (so the audience wouldn’t see us) and we all landed in one gigantic heap on the floor. You should’ve seen us, it was well funny. Ooops, sorry. I was telling you about Mrs Poole’s announcement, wasn’t I? Honestly, I am such a fluff-brain, sometimes… “So what are we going to do about it, boys and girls?” Mrs Poole continued. “Any ideas? Hands up!” There was silence while everyone thought hard. Then, suddenly, hands started going up all over the hall. “Miss, we could paint pretend curtains!” said a little kid. “Or borrow the curtains from the windows in the hall,” suggested the gruesome Emily Berryman in her gruff goblin voice. “Yes, Miss,” simpered her goody-goody mate, Emma Hughes. “We could take them down and…blah blah blah…” (That girl loves the sound of her own voice.) But luckily Mrs Poole said “no” to the totally stoo-pid hall curtain idea. If she hadn’t, we’d never have heard the last of it from our sworn enemies the M&Ms (that’s the Sleepover Club’s nickname for the Gruesome Twosome, by the way). The whole school went on suggesting things and some of the ideas were truly sad, like lining up the dustbins on stage, or having a row of kids to shield the performers, or even dear old Kenny’s lame-brain idea of draping swimming towels over ladders! (I ask you!) At this rate the Cuddington Players would have what you might call a naked stage. Then, Frankie the Wizz had one of her brilliant ideas. “Miss, why don’t we have a fundraiser to buy new curtains?” We’ve had fundraisers before, and our gang are ace at them. “That’s an excellent idea, Francesca,” beamed Mrs Poole and all the teachers nodded delightedly. “Don’t you think so, boys and girls?” The whole school went, “Yes, Mrs Poole!” while Lyndz and I thumped Frankie on the back to congratulate her. “Three cheers for Frankie!” shouted out Kenny. “Hip, hip, hooray!” Well,
