The Sleepover Club Sleep Out. Narinder Dhami

      The Sleepover Club

      Sleeps Out

      by Narinder Dhami

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten – Goodbye

       Have you been Invited to all these Sleepovers?

       Sleepover Kit List

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

      

      Hiya! It’s me.

      No, just for once this isn’t Frankie. Bet that’s given you a bit of a shock, hasn’t it?

      No, I’m not Fliss either. P-lease!

      And I’m not Rosie. Guess again.

      Wrong! It’s not Lyndz.

      It’s me.

      Kenny! Or, if you want to annoy me seriously, you can call me Laura. No-one calls me Laura except my mum when she’s in a mood. If you want us to be mates, you’ll never, ever let the L-word cross your lips.

      I guess that by now you’ve realised that you’re stuck with me, instead of Frankie. Hey, you don’t have to look so shocked. I don’t know what Frankie’s told you about me, but it’s all lies. I’m not wild at all. I’m perfectly house-trained (joke). Well, most of the time, anyway.

      The point is, Frankie’s told you everything about the Sleepover Club up till now, and why should she have all the fun? I told her it was about time one of the rest of us got to talk to you for a change, and Frankie was cool about it. She’s cool about most things. That’s why she’s my best mate. (I had to bribe her with a bag of Wotsits, but that’s another story).

      I wasn’t the only one who wanted to tell you about the sleepover last Friday night. Once we’d decided that someone else instead of Frankie was going to do it, Fliss and Rosie and Lyndz were all dying to get in on the act, too. That’s because our last sleepover was brilliant, one of the best ever. We had a totally radical time, and best of all, we completely trashed the M&Ms. Anyway, we argued for half-an-hour over who was going to tell you about it, and then Frankie persuaded the others that it ought to be me. That wasn’t just because I gave her my Wotsits, but because it was me the M&Ms did the dirty on, and getting revenge was my idea.

      Whoops, hang on a sec. I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m not as good at this as Frankie. I need a bit more practice. Hmm. D’you know what? I reckon the beginning would be a really excellent place to start.

      You know all about the Sleepover Club, don’t you? There’s just the five of us – Frankie, Fliss, Lyndz, Rosie and me, and we sleep over at each other’s houses every week-end. OK, OK, so you know all that. Don’t get your intestines in a twist. I just thought that maybe if you hadn’t been around before, you might not know. That’s all. (You know what intestines are, don’t you? They’re these sort of tubes inside your stomach. I want to be a doctor, so I know about things like that. The others think I’m completely gross.)

      Maybe I ought to remind you about the M&Ms as well. Remember them? Emma Hughes and Emily Berryman? The Queen and The Goblin? The Gruesome Twosome? They’re in our class at school, and they are the biggest enemies of the Sleepover Club in the whole world. If it hadn’t been for the M&Ms playing that horrible trick on me, I’d never have come up with such a brilliant plan to get our own back.

      Sorry, I’m doing it again. My mouth’s got a mind of its own. My sister Monster-Features (my parents named her Molly, but Monster-Features sounds so-o-o much better) says if my brain was as big as my mouth, I’d be a genius, but what does she know? I never talk to her, except to fight. Yesterday I wanted to phone Frankie to talk about the sleepover, and Molly the Monster wanted to phone some stoo-pid friend of hers, and we got into a humungous argument, and I picked up the Yellow Pages and – but that’s another story.

      Come on, let’s go, and I’ll tell you what happened. And this time I’ll start right at the very beginning.

      

      It all started last week, on a really wet, cold and miserable day. We’d got soaked to the skin walking to school, and the only good thing was that it was a Friday. And that night we were all sleeping over at Frankie’s.

      “I asked my mum if we could make popcorn tonight,” Frankie said as we went into the classroom.

      “Really?” Fliss, who was fussing with her wet hair, looked impressed. The Sleepover Club have been banned from every kitchen in the universe since we nearly burnt her mum’s house down. “What did she say?”

      Frankie grinned. “She said over her dead body.”

      “Well, what are we going to do tonight then?” Fliss persisted. You must have sussed out by now that Fliss is just a tiny bit of a fusspot. “We could have a hair-styling contest.”

      “No, let’s have a disco,” Rosie chimed in. “I’ve got my new Spice Girls tape.”

      “Why don’t we play Twister?” Lyndz suggested.

      I opened my mouth to say I wanted to tell horror stories (I always want to tell horror stories at Sleepovers, but we hardly ever do, because Fliss is a bit of a wimp and gets scared), when suddenly I noticed the M&Ms coming towards us with their ears flapping.

      “Hold