Harriet Castor - Pony Passion

It was a sign of things to come. Weaver had obviously got out of bed on the wrong side that morning, and the slightest bit of cheek from Danny or chattering at the back had her looking all purse-lipped and thundery. Honestly, it’s such a downer when teachers are like that, don’t you think? School is bad enough – they could at least try to make it nicer for us by being in a good mood!

She cheered up a bit after the register, though, when she started telling us about a new project she wanted us to work on in our history lessons.

“Who’s been to Cuddington library recently?” she asked first.

The M&Ms stuck their hands up. They’re such goody-goodies, it’s enough to make you sick.

“And did you notice anything new there, Emma?” said Mrs Weaver.

Emma Hughes looked puzzled. “Er…books?” she said.

Behind me, I heard Kenny snort. “Books?” she muttered. “In a library? Omigosh, how shocking!”

Well, that set me off giggling, and once I start I’m a lost cause, my dad says. I was trying to listen to what Mrs Weaver was saying, concentrating on how unfunny it was.

“I expect they do have some new books, but that’s not what I was thinking of, Emma.”

But all the time I was quaking and shaking, and feeling that if I didn’t let these giggles out I was going to…

“Hic!”

Too late! The hiccups had started. I had to put my head on the desk to try and hide. Behind me I could hear Frankie and Kenny spluttering and snorting. The mad thing was, it hadn’t even been that funny.

“Lyndsey Collins, whatever is the matter?”

Uh-oh. Frankie always says I should be in the Guinness Book of Records for having the loudest, squeakiest hiccups in the world. Not handy when you’re trying to hide.

I lifted my head. “Noth-hic-ing, Mrs Weaver.”

“What have I just been saying?”

“Um, about the, hic, library having something new, and it’s not new, hic, books…” I was so desperate to laugh, my voice had gone all wobbly.

Mrs Weaver was not amused. “Come and sit over here,” she said, pointing to an empty desk right in front of her.

“But Mrs, hic—”

“Now.” There was no arguing with that tone of voice. It made my hiccups disappear in an instant. I got up and shuffled to the front of the class.

Well, that was the cause of the whole disaster. If I’d been sitting in my usual place I wouldn’t have done it. Rosie would have grabbed my arm in the nick of time, or Kenny would’ve tackled me from behind.

At first everything was OK. Mrs Weaver explained about our projects and I just sat there with a cricked neck, staring up her nose.

“Our projects are going to be about Victorian life,” she said, “and the library has an exhibition on at the moment about Leicestershire in Victorian times. We’ll go and have a look at it tomorrow – if you can all behave yourselves.” When she said this she peered down at me. “I want you to get into groups, and each take a different topic for your project. There are six topics, so you may as well stay in the same groups you were in for science yesterday.”

This was way cool. Yesterday the five of us Sleepover Clubbers had been in a group by ourselves, which doesn’t always happen. I turned round and grinned at the others. Frankie gave me a big thumbs-up and Kenny winked.

Mrs Weaver grabbed her marker pen and wrote the six topics on the board. Then she stuck pictures cut from newspapers and magazines next to each one. Next to ‘Houses and Homes’ there was a grand old house with big windows. Next to ‘Sports and Pastimes’ there was a footballer, with an old-fashioned haircut and funny big shorts. ‘Costume’ had a lady in a long dress beside it, probably from one of those Sunday night dramas on the telly, and ‘Animals’ had a really cute-looking dog. Next to ‘Schools’ there was a man with enormous whiskers holding a book. He looked twice as grumpy as Mrs Weaver on a bad day – scary!

But ‘Transport’ was what really caught my attention, because next to that there was a beautiful chestnut pony, with a white stripe down its nose. And, in case you didn’t know already, I am just crazy about ponies!

“I really want you to use your imagination with these projects,” said Mrs Weaver, turning back to us. “As well as doing written work, you could paint a picture, or make a model or a collage. At the end of term each group will give a presentation to the rest of the class. So, right from the beginning, I want you to be thinking up ways to communicate the things you find out.

“But first we have to allocate the topics. Who’s going to do…”

She turned round to look at the board. My bum was on the edge of my seat. There’s always such a massive scramble when things get shared out, and I’m wicked at shooting my hand up faster than anyone else. I was ready.

Mrs Weaver pointed to the pony. “…Transport?”

“Yes!” I shouted, my hand blasting into the air like a space rocket.

There was a short silence. I could hear the M&Ms sniggering softly and I looked round.

I’d been the fastest to put my hand up, all right. Because I’d been the only one. What’s more, Fliss was looking at me like I’d just pulled the head off her Barbie, and Kenny was flapping her hands and shaking her head.

“Excellent,” said Mrs Weaver, writing my name down. “Lyndsey’s group can do Transport. Now, Sports and Pastimes? Ryan, you were first…”

By now Kenny had flung her hands up in the air and was bashing her head on her desk in despair. Even Rosie was looking at me like I’d made a horrid smell.

Marooned at my front row desk, I felt like the biggest durr-brain on the planet. I knew exactly what I’d done.

“Why, Lyndz? Why??”

“Did your brain turn to gloop?”

The bell had gone and we’d all piled out into the playground for break. It had stopped raining, but there were big puddles everywhere. I felt like a puddle myself. The others were giving me a seriously hard time.

“I messed up,” I admitted. “I’m sorry, OK?”

“I wanted to do Costume!” Fliss whispered accusingly. Her eyes were all watery, like she was about to cry.

“You only went and chose THE most boring topic on the list!” wailed Frankie. “What were you thinking of?”

“I – I don’t know,” I stuttered. “It was that picture, I guess…”

Kenny slapped her forehead. “I might have known it! A picture of a horse and Lyndz loses all control. Not to mention all her brain-power!”

“We could’ve done loads on horses in Animals,” Rosie pointed out.

Kenny groaned, clutching her stomach like she had tummy-ache. “And we could’ve done stupid horse-racing in Sports…”

Usually with the Sleepover Club, things blow over really quickly. If one of us is feeling a bit cross about something, the others tease them out of it. But not this time. This time it really felt like four against one.

“We know you’re horse-mad, Lyndz,” said Frankie. “But this is ridiculous.”

“And you’ve been spending so much time down at those smelly stables recently,” sniffed Fliss, wrinkling her nose. “You never do anything we want to do.”

“That’s not true!” I said. “I never miss our sleepovers!”

“No, but what about that Saturday when my mum took us to the shopping centre?” said Fliss.

It was true. I had missed that.

“And you never came to see Shrek with us!” said Frankie.

“That was years ago!”

“What about when I wanted to build that treehouse?” said Kenny.

“But I would’ve been no use at that,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the principle,” said Fliss haughtily. For a moment she sounded just like her mum. “The Sleepover Club should be the most important thing.”