Читать книгу Sleepover Club Blitz - Angie Bates, Narinder Dhami - Страница 6

ATISHOO! Oops! Didn’t mean to sneeze on you! Oh, I don’t believe it. It’s you!

No, it’s great. I’m just embarrassed. You’ve caught me in my icky dog-walking clothes. I hadn’t expected to run into any Sleepover fans today. I must look a total mess.

Hang on, I’ve got to blow my nose. As you can see, I’ve got the WORST cold. My big sister, Tiffany, is threatening to enter me for the sneezing Olympics!

Oh, now I get the picture! A little bird leaked the news of our most outrageous sleepover since records began and you’re desperate for an update, right?

Well, it might not look like it, but you definitely came to the right girl. Yep, the amazingly groovy Rosie Cartwright gets a starring role again! Yes, I DO mean me, you fluff-brain!

Unfortunately, you’ve caught me at a bad moment. Not only am I looking a scruffbag, but also (yikes, this sounds incredibly rude), I was just on my way out!! Is that bad luck or what?

Literally FIVE minutes before you showed up, I promised Mum I’d take our dog for a run. Jenny has the MOST energy. It’s all I can do to keep up, while she drags me uphill and down whatever, chasing cute, fluffy (and totally imaginary) rabbits. Not the ideal situation for a girly chat, as I’m sure you’ll agree.

It’s such a pain. I’d heaps rather talk to you than walk our dog. No, I CAN’T take her later. The poor thing’s been crossing her legs for hours.

Strictly speaking, it was my big sister’s turn. I only agreed to do a swap on one condition. The absolute MICRO-second I get back, Tiffany has to march into that kitchen and make me a mega bowl of her dee-licious toffee-flavoured popcorn! Time-travel makes you incredibly hungry for some reason.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist dropping that in! You should see your face! You think I’m kidding, don’t you? Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to go back in time, because I won’t believe you!

The other day, all of us girls in the Sleepover Club shared our secret time-travel fantasies.

Lyndz, who is totally horse-mad, if you remember, wanted to go back to before Columbus. She said she’d just LURVE to see what America looked like before white men turned up with their guns and chicken-pox germs and stuff. “I’d hang out with Native Americans, and ride bareback on those gorgeous pinto ponies they had,” she said.

Fliss wanted to go back to when girls wore Empire-line dresses, and those gauzy little shawls. I’m not saying Fliss is a bimbo or anything, but sometimes she really gives that impression!

“Could we have a teensy bit more info?” Kenny grinned. “Like when was this, exactly?”

Fliss looked vague. “I don’t know. They put their hair up in this really sweet style, and they visited each other’s houses the whole time. Ooh, and the men stomped about in serious riding boots and swishy jackets, looking incredibly gorgeous.”

It turned out Fliss had once caught an episode of Pride and Prejudice on TV, and fallen mushily in love with Mr Darcy!

Kenny’s choice was SO not romantic. She wanted to be whisked back to 1966, purely so she could see England win the World Cup…

Frankie didn’t fancy the past, full stop. “I’m not interested in stuff that’s, like – OVER,” she said dramatically. “It’s what’s coming next that I’m interested in. Like, how soon can I travel to other planets?”

Personally, I’d like to be one of those feisty girls in the days of the Wild West. They could turn their hand to anything. Like, one minute they’d be making blueberry pie. And next thing, they’d grab a gun and blast away at some wild bear who’d started guzzling the family’s maple syrup supply.

But what’s all this got to do with actual time-travel, I hear you cry?

Yikes! Jenny’s practically pulling my arm off. Sorry, but I’m going to have to go.

Tell you what! I’ve had a great idea. (If you’re up for it, that is?)

Could we meet up back at my house later? Not only would that give me a chance to change into something a bit less doggy, but you’ll have my undivided attention. You can even share my popcorn, if you like.

What do you mean, can’t I give you a tiny hint before I go? Boy, you readers show no mercy!

OK. Here’s a Sleepover mini-trailer to keep you going.

Picture one of those old-style newsreels, with that insanely cheerful male newsreader yelling over brass-band music.

SOUND OF WAILING SIRENS.

“Do you believe in time travel? You’d better! Because those five spunky Sleepover girls have just been back to the tremendously inspiring days of Spitfires, gas masks and ration books. Watch them dig for victory. Hear them warble about bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover. Laugh aloud as they try to find the outside toilet in the black-out. Find out what happens when our intrepid heroines give up the home comforts of the twenty-first century for one entire weekend, and drop in on (BOOM! CRASH!! CRUMP!!!) the Second World War – for REAL!”

Yes, I am feeling perfectly well, thank you very much.

No, I’m not making it up!

But like I said, if you REALLY want to know what happened, come back and meet me after tea, OK?

Till then, TTFN! I’ll translate later – gotta dash!!