to ruin everything for us. Don’t believe me? OK, I’ll prove it to you!
Remember how I told you about Rosie blurting out that dead private stuff about Spud and Tiffany?
Can you believe those creepy girls were actually spying on us the whole time, soaking up every word?
Understand why we hate them now? Coo-ell! Then I’ll tell you the rest.
It’s really true about them spying. When we went into our classroom, Emma Hughes started dabbing her eyes, pretending to cry. “Oh Emily, isn’t it too sad about Tiffany and Spud?”
“Oh yes, Emma,” sniffled Emily. “I haven’t cried so much since my Gran’s budgie fell off its perch.”
“Tiffany’s so-o-o beautiful,” sighed Emma.
“And darling Spud is so-o-o hunky. Not!”
They made being-sick noises.
I thought Rosie was going to bop Emma one. She hasn’t had much practice dealing with the M&Ms and it shows. But don’t worry! Good ole Kenny was already on the case.
“Frankie,” she said in a chatty voice, “do you think those sad little androids will ever get, you know, a life?”
Honestly, I nearly kissed her. “I wish, Kenny,” I sighed. “They must be so-o-o bored.”
“Yeah,” Lyndz joined in. “Why else would they hang around us all the time, earwigging people’s private conversations?”
Emma Hughes’ mouth opened like a goldfish, but before she got a word out, Fliss started up.
“I’m sorry for them, aren’t you?” she said in a saintly voice. “They must feel really empty inside.” She put on a tragic face, but we knew she was dying to laugh. We all were.
Rosie finally caught on. “Do you think those poor girls secretly admire us?” she asked, all wide-eyed.
“Could be,” Kenny agreed. “They’ll be copying us next. Having sad little sleepovers with Alana Banana.”
You should have seen the M&Ms squirm! They kept making strangled noises but every time they tried to get a word in, one of us got in first. It was brilliant! But it got even better.
“Can’t you picture them in their frilly nighties?” I said.
“Drinking up their nice hot malted milk,” said Lyndz.
I did my Alana-the-android imitation. “Goodness me, Emma and Emily. Who could have dreamed that sleeping over would be this much fun. Is it nearly time for our exciting midnight feast yet?”
“It certainly is, Alana Banana. But do be careful not to get any nasty crumbs in Mummy’s sheets,” said Kenny, taking off Emma’s snooty voice.
I wish you’d seen their prune faces! They were as sick as parrots.
“We know how to have fun, thanks very much,” shrieked Emma Hughes.
Emily Berryman tossed her hair. “Yeah,” she said. “We don’t need you losers to show us, do we, Alana?”
“No way,” echoed Alana, their creepy slave. And honestly she sounded exactly like a sad little robot. That did it. We laughed till we cried.
Our teacher, Miss Weaver, came in just then. “You seem to be having fun,” she said cheerfully. She couldn’t understand why me, Kenny and the others fell about.
Kenny poked me in the back. “Was that a result, or was that a result?” she hissed.
“Yeah, one – nil to us,” I hissed back. “And it’s not over yet!”
It wasn’t. Not nearly. I was more determined than ever to get Spud and Tiff back together. I mean, to start with I’d only wanted to save our sleepover. But now I wanted to save Spud and Tiff too. That would show those sneery little witches!
I kept picturing it, like a scene from a soap. Tiff all pink and happy. And poor old Spud staring at his boots, telling her how sorry he was. I didn’t know how we were going to make this mushy scene come true, mind you. But each time I replayed it in my mind, the more real it seemed. Then all at once I’d got it. A totally brilliant plan!!
I know what you’re thinking! Frankie Thomas, playing Cupid. This is all a bad dream, right? Yeah, yeah. I don’t understand it either. But it’s not true what people say about only children. We aren’t all
Remember how I told you about Rosie blurting out that dead private stuff about Spud and Tiffany?
Can you believe those creepy girls were actually spying on us the whole time, soaking up every word?
Understand why we hate them now? Coo-ell! Then I’ll tell you the rest.
It’s really true about them spying. When we went into our classroom, Emma Hughes started dabbing her eyes, pretending to cry. “Oh Emily, isn’t it too sad about Tiffany and Spud?”
“Oh yes, Emma,” sniffled Emily. “I haven’t cried so much since my Gran’s budgie fell off its perch.”
“Tiffany’s so-o-o beautiful,” sighed Emma.
“And darling Spud is so-o-o hunky. Not!”
They made being-sick noises.
I thought Rosie was going to bop Emma one. She hasn’t had much practice dealing with the M&Ms and it shows. But don’t worry! Good ole Kenny was already on the case.
“Frankie,” she said in a chatty voice, “do you think those sad little androids will ever get, you know, a life?”
Honestly, I nearly kissed her. “I wish, Kenny,” I sighed. “They must be so-o-o bored.”
“Yeah,” Lyndz joined in. “Why else would they hang around us all the time, earwigging people’s private conversations?”
Emma Hughes’ mouth opened like a goldfish, but before she got a word out, Fliss started up.
“I’m sorry for them, aren’t you?” she said in a saintly voice. “They must feel really empty inside.” She put on a tragic face, but we knew she was dying to laugh. We all were.
Rosie finally caught on. “Do you think those poor girls secretly admire us?” she asked, all wide-eyed.
“Could be,” Kenny agreed. “They’ll be copying us next. Having sad little sleepovers with Alana Banana.”
You should have seen the M&Ms squirm! They kept making strangled noises but every time they tried to get a word in, one of us got in first. It was brilliant! But it got even better.
“Can’t you picture them in their frilly nighties?” I said.
“Drinking up their nice hot malted milk,” said Lyndz.
I did my Alana-the-android imitation. “Goodness me, Emma and Emily. Who could have dreamed that sleeping over would be this much fun. Is it nearly time for our exciting midnight feast yet?”
“It certainly is, Alana Banana. But do be careful not to get any nasty crumbs in Mummy’s sheets,” said Kenny, taking off Emma’s snooty voice.
I wish you’d seen their prune faces! They were as sick as parrots.
“We know how to have fun, thanks very much,” shrieked Emma Hughes.
Emily Berryman tossed her hair. “Yeah,” she said. “We don’t need you losers to show us, do we, Alana?”
“No way,” echoed Alana, their creepy slave. And honestly she sounded exactly like a sad little robot. That did it. We laughed till we cried.
Our teacher, Miss Weaver, came in just then. “You seem to be having fun,” she said cheerfully. She couldn’t understand why me, Kenny and the others fell about.
Kenny poked me in the back. “Was that a result, or was that a result?” she hissed.
“Yeah, one – nil to us,” I hissed back. “And it’s not over yet!”
It wasn’t. Not nearly. I was more determined than ever to get Spud and Tiff back together. I mean, to start with I’d only wanted to save our sleepover. But now I wanted to save Spud and Tiff too. That would show those sneery little witches!
I kept picturing it, like a scene from a soap. Tiff all pink and happy. And poor old Spud staring at his boots, telling her how sorry he was. I didn’t know how we were going to make this mushy scene come true, mind you. But each time I replayed it in my mind, the more real it seemed. Then all at once I’d got it. A totally brilliant plan!!
I know what you’re thinking! Frankie Thomas, playing Cupid. This is all a bad dream, right? Yeah, yeah. I don’t understand it either. But it’s not true what people say about only children. We aren’t all
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