Читать книгу Starring The Sleepover Club - Narinder Dhami - Страница 6

As I said before, I was really set on having new pyjamas for the Sleepover Event of the Century, so I started my campaign as soon as I got home that night.

“Mum,” I said casually, “have you seen my Snoopy pyjamas recently?”

“Is that a trick question?” My mum was putting a family-size packet of vegetarian lasagne in the microwave. No-one cooks in our house, except for my dad’s famous pizzas. We’re a strictly “heat ’n’ eat” family. “I saw them yesterday when I took them out of the washing-machine.”

“No, I mean have you seen the state of them.” I pulled my Snoopy pyjamas from behind my back like a magician producing a white rabbit, and flapped them at my mum. “Look at them, they’re gross.”

My mum raised her eyebrows.

“I can’t see anything wrong with them.”

“Look!” I showed her the pyjama bottoms. One of the legs had started fraying after a sleepover at Rosie’s when Kenny had grabbed me by the ankles and tried to throw me off the bed. I’d kind of helped it along a bit with my nail scissors. “I can’t wear these at Fliss’s sleepover tomorrow.”

“Oh, Frankie, they’re perfectly all right.”

“No, they aren’t,” I persisted. Nagging is the only way to wear parents down. They’ll do anything for a bit of peace and quiet. “I told you before, Fliss’s mum is going to video the sleepover, and I need to look good.”

“Frankie,” my mum said, “this is a home video, not a Hollywood movie.”

“I know. But these pyjamas are dangerous. What if they keep on unravelling while I’m asleep, and they unravel right up to my neck and strangle me?”

My mum looked at me over the top of her glasses.

“Have you been reading those ‘Bonechillers’ again?”

“Mum,” I said solemnly, “I’m being straight with you here. I cannot wear these pyjamas to Fliss’s sleepover tomorrow night.”

“Fine.” My mum opened the fridge and took out a packet of ready-washed salad. “It’s lucky you have at least eight other pairs of pyjamas in your cupboard to choose from, then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Mum,” I groaned. “Those aren’t sleepover pyjamas. And anyway, they’re all too small for me.”

My mum shrugged. “That’s life, Frankie.”

Parents. They’re so unreasonable. But I wasn’t finished yet. I went out of the kitchen, and into the living-room where my dad was laying the table and watching the news on the telly at the same time.

“Guess what, Dad?” I gave him my Best-Behaved Daughter of the Year smile. “Fliss’s mum’s bought a camcorder, and she’s going to video our sleepover tomorrow.”

“Really,” my dad said absently, his eyes fixed on the TV.

“So I was hoping I could get a new pair of pyjamas. Could you pick me up after school tomorrow and drive me into Leicester?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

Like taking sweets from a baby.

“Thanks, Dad!” I said, just as my mum came in with the plates.

“Thanks for what?” she asked suspiciously.

“Er – yes, thanks for what?” The news had finished now, and my dad was looking bewildered.

“Dad says he’ll drive me into town after school tomorrow to buy some new pyjamas for the sleepover,” I said.

My mum put the plates down on the table with a thump.

“Francesca Theresa Thomas, you are the most cunning and devious child I’ve ever met.”

“That’s what comes of having lawyers for parents,” I said. “By the way, my sleeping bag’s looking a bit gross too.”

“Don’t push your luck, Frankie,” said my dad.

“OK, OK. But I really do need new jim-jams. I want to look good in our video.”

“So,” said my dad, “we’re finally going to see what goes on at these famous sleepovers, are we?”

“I already know what goes on,” my mum said, dishing up the lasagne. “Chaos, trouble and lots of junk food.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that,” I said, picking up my fork. “And anyway, we aren’t going to let just anyone watch the video. Sleepovers are supposed to be a secret.”

Especially from parents. I wasn’t quite sure how we were going to get away with keeping what we did at our sleepovers a secret if Fliss’s mum was going to be filming us. But I’d worry about that later.

First of all, though, we had to get through Friday at school. It was pretty difficult because we were all hyper-excited about the sleepover that night, and by the end of the day, we’d turned Miss Jenkins into a nervous wreck. Kenny had managed a record eleven trips to the pencil sharpener without being spotted, and we’d played Pass the Sniff in silent reading until our noses hurt.

As soon as the home bell rang, the Sleepover Club were first out of the classroom door.

“My dad’s taking me shopping,” I told the others. “I’m going to get some new pyjamas for tonight.”

“I’ve already got some,” said Kenny. “They’re so cool. They’re going to be the coolest pyjamas ever seen on video.’”

“What are they like?” asked Lyndz, but Kenny shook her head.

“You’ll have to wait and see!”

“Oh, I can’t wait for tonight!” Fliss squealed, and we all grinned. Tonight was going to be really special.

I got a wicked pair of pyjamas in Leicester. They were bright orange – I mean really bright, the colour of an ice lolly – and they had apples and bananas printed all over them. There was a matching pair of fluffy orange slippers too, although I had to promise to wash up the dinner plates for two weeks to get my hands on those. By the time we got back home, I had an hour to get ready for the sleepover.

First I packed my sleepover kit. In went my new pyjamas and slippers, my diary, my toothbrush, my teddy bear, Stanley, a big bag of fun-size Mars bars, a family-size pack of cheese and onion crisps, my torch and personal stuff like a hairbrush and deodorant. Next I had to decide what I was going to wear. Usually we just wear jeans and tee-shirts, so that we can slob out and do exactly what we like, but tonight was different. Tonight I was going to wear my black hipster flares and my new lime-green shirt. And I was going to crimp my hair.

I don’t crimp my hair very often, because it takes ages, but I really wanted to look good in our sleepover video. After I’d done my hair, I painted my nails silver. I love silver nail varnish, and I’m allowed to wear it sometimes at weekends, if The Oldies are in a good mood. I was hoping that tonight I could get away without them noticing.

Wait a minute, the man at the video shop desk is giving us funny looks. Maybe we ought to pretend we’re looking at the films. Come on, Nathan’s over the other side of the shop now, so we should be OK. Just keep an eye out for him, that’s all.

Well, when I finally made it downstairs, carrying my sleepover kit and my sleeping bag, my dad raised his eyebrows.

“What happened to that scruffy little girl who used to be our daughter?” he said to my mum.

“Oh, zip it, Dad,” I said. “I just threw on the first things I could find.”

“It looks like you just threw on some silver nail varnish too,” said my mum.

“This is a special occasion, Mum,” I said. “When I’m a famous actress, people will be paying thousands of pounds to get their hands on this video.”

Did I mention to you that I want to be an actress when I grow up? That’s why I was really looking forward to tonight. It was going to be my very first chance to see myself on film.

“Come on then, Michelle Pfeiffer,” said my mum, “I’ll run you over to Fliss’s.”

“OK,” I said. Fliss doesn’t live that far away from us, but I had all my sleepover stuff to carry, and besides, it looked like it was going to rain, which would wash all the crimping out of my hair quicker than you can say “Bad Hair Day”.

“Mum,” I said when we were in the car and on our way, “can we—?”

“No,” said my mum.

“What do you mean, no?” I glared at her. “You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Oh, yes I do.” My mum turned into Fliss’s road. “You were going to say, ‘Can we get a camcorder?’”

I was speechless. Parents can really make you mad sometimes, can’t they?

“Well, why can’t we?”

“Because they’re too expensive, that’s why,” my mum said. “Do you know how much they cost, Frankie? Six or seven hundred pounds. Which reminds me.” We stopped at some traffic lights, and she turned to look hard at me. “No fooling around tonight. Do exactly what Fliss’s mum tells you. Because if anything happens to that camcorder, you and your friends are going to be paying for it out of your pocket money for a very, very long time.”

“Oh, Mum,” I groaned as we pulled up outside Fliss’s house. “Have I ever let you down before?”

“Yes, you have.”

“Bye, then,” I said quickly, and dived out of the car before she could get launched on a list of sleepover disasters.

I was just about to open Fliss’s gate when Kenny’s dad’s car pulled up, and Kenny jumped out. I stared at her. She was still wearing her Leicester City top because that’s all she ever wore when she wasn’t at school. But she wasn’t wearing her favourite pair of jeans with holes in the knees or her Timberland boots. Instead she was wearing brand-new jeans and proper shoes. With heels. And she’d only gone and crimped her hair.

“You’ve crimped your hair!” I said.

“So have you!” Kenny stared back at me, and we both started to laugh. “We’re going to look like twins on this video!”

A little red car stopped by the kerb while we were still laughing. Rosie’s mum waved to us from the driver’s seat, and then Rosie got out. She looked really cool in a long skirt and a matching top. And her hair was crimped.

Rosie looked at me and Kenny, and her face went pink.

“You’ve crimped your hair!” she gasped.

“I think we’ve already had this conversation,” said Kenny.

“We’re triplets now!” I said, and we all started to giggle.

Then I looked over Kenny’s shoulder, and saw Lyndz walking up the road with her brother Tom. Lyndz looked good in a pink skirt and a black top. But guess what she’d done to her hair?

“Oh-oh,” I said. “Crimped hair alert!”

“Oh!” Lyndz gasped when she saw the rest of us. “You’ve—”

“Crimped your hair!” we all chimed in. “Just like you!”

“Wow,” Tom said, grinning all over his face. “Looks like a hairdresser’s worst nightmare.”

Lyndz gave him a shove.

“Get lost, moron,” she said.

Still laughing, Tom went off, and we all stood outside Fliss’s house, and looked at each other and our crimped hair.

“Oh, well,” said Lyndz with a big grin, “I think we all look great.”

“Come on,” Kenny said, pushing open the gate. “I’m dying to get inside and get filmed!”

We all hurried up the path. I rang the bell, and Fliss opened the door. She was wearing a spotless, cream-coloured lacy dress with matching tights and shoes, and her hair was piled high on her head. It had been stuck with pins all over to keep it up, and it looked pretty uncomfortable. She took one look at our hair, and burst out laughing.

“You’ve all crimped your hair!”

“Yes, we had noticed,” I said.

“Is that the girls, Fliss?” Andy, Fliss’s mum’s boyfriend, came out of the living-room with a camcorder balanced on his shoulder. He stopped and moved it slowly in our direction. Immediately we all started squealing and giggling and shoving each other.

“Come on, girls, give us a smile!” Andy said.

We all began to wave and smile at the camera. This was certainly going to be one sleepover we would never forget.