Becky's Terrible Term by Holly Webb

you could see everything!”
    â€œThe restaurant was fab too,” Cara chimed in. She prodded her pizza slice in disgust. “A bit different from this!”
    â€œOh well, of course ,”Amy said patronizingly, flicking a quick glance round to check that her audience was still with her. “My dad believes birthdays are so special. And as I’m an only child – well, he doesn’t really have to scrimp and save, does he?” She smirked, carefully looking anywhere but at the triplets. “It’s not as if there were three of me. . .”
    â€œThank God,” muttered Katie, and the rest of her table burst out laughing.
    â€œThere are three of her,” Becky pointed out. “Emily and Cara are just Amy without the hair.”
    â€œForget them,” advised Saima, firmly. “I’m sick of waiting for you three to tell us. Come on, why were you all so excited this morning? What have you been looking so secretive for all day?”
    Amy and co were immediately dismissed as Fran and Megan leant in to hear the news that had made the triplets giggly all through morning classes, and positively hyper at break.
    The triplets exchanged glances, their dark blue eyes sparkling with mischief in an expression that made them look more identical than ever. “Weelll. . .” said Annabel slowly.
    â€œWhat?” snapped Megan and Fran, together.
    â€œIt’s a secret. Triplets-only. Sorryyy!” cackled Annabel, enjoying their furious faces.
    â€œAnnabel,” purred Saima sweetly. “We all know how ticklish you are. You really, really want to stop messing about and tell us now – don’t you?”
    â€œOK! OK!” gasped Annabel, already feeling her hysterical laughter coming on. “Can we tell them?” she begged her sisters.
    â€œI don’t see why not – you’re not going to be able to shut up about it for much longer anyway,” sighed Katie, and Becky nodded.
    â€œDad’s coming home!” squeaked Annabel delightedly, “for all of half-term! Isn’t that excellent?”
    Saima, Megan and Fran understood perfectly just how excellent it was. The triplets didn’t see their father very often as their parents were divorced and their dad worked abroad as an engineer. At the moment he was working on an irrigation project in Egypt, and the triplets hadn’t seen him since early in the summer holidays.
    â€œYou’ll all have to come round,” volunteered Becky unexpectedly. The shyest of the triplets, she tended to leave ideas like this to her sisters. “Fran and Megan haven’t met Dad yet,” she pointed out, smiling at Fran. The triplets had known Saima from their old school, but they’d only got to know Megan and Fran since starting at Manor Hill that term. Fran shared Becky’s complete soppiness over anything furry – especially dogs – and was the first real friend Becky’d had apart from her sisters. She was desperate for Fran to meet Dad and Dad to meet Fran. Describing her new mate in emails just wasn’t the same. She was sure they’d get on.
    â€œDefinitely!” agreed Katie. “He’ll really want to meet you. We can play football, Megan, he’s really good, he taught me loads.”
    The girls beamed at each other, full of their plan. Half-term was only two weeks away – no time at all. The triplets munched their sandwiches happily, and Fran went back to poking dismally at her plate of sheepy bits.
    Annabel gazed dreamily over the dining hall, planning shopping trips where Dad bought her and Saima the coolest clothes ever. Slowly chomping a mouthful of tuna and lettuce, her eyes fell on Amy and her thoughts turned to birthdays. Birthdays! Suddenly her eyes snapped wide open, she sat bolt upright and yelped. Or she would have done, except she still had the mouthful of tuna and it went down the wrong way. The yelp came out as a strangled