Fiona Cummings - Emergency Sleepover

by Fiona Cummings

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Have you been invited to all these sleepovers?

Sleepover Kit List

Copyright

About the Publisher

Hiya! You look a bit pale. Are you sure you’re all right? No medical problems I can help you with? No aches or pains, bumps or bruises? Are you sure now, because Dr Kenny is at your service. Hey, don’t look at me like that. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve spent a lot of time in hospital recently. Well not that much time, actually, but enough to know that I absolutely definitely still want to be a doctor. No, I haven’t been ill or anything. But Rosie has. Well not ill exactly… Look, you’d better sit down and I’ll tell you everything.

OK, well, the whole thing started a few weeks ago when we were round at Rosie’s for a sleepover. It was this really warm evening and we were getting pretty wild, as you do. Now you know what Rosie’s house is like, don’t you – it’s kind of big and ramshackle and needs doing up. Rosie’s always freaking out because her father keeps promising to come back and make a start on it, but he never does. He was pretty mean if you ask me, moving his family to this stonking great wreck of a house and then upping sticks and moving in with his new girlfriend as soon as they get here. Still, Rosie’s mum seems happy enough and so do Adam and Tiff, her brother and sister. It’s just Rosie who gets all wound up about it sometimes.

Anyway, there we were chasing around outside Rosie’s house, and Fliss – who else? – was being really boring.

“We shouldn’t be messing about round here,” she whined. “Mrs Cartwright told us not to. It’s dangerous!”

Now it was true that Rosie’s mum had warned us hundreds of times not to play round the back of the house because there was loads of rotten old junk on the patio area. You know the kind of thing – a cruddy old bedstead with springs poking out of it, rotten planks of wood, hundreds of rusty nails, you get the picture. But the trouble was that even though we knew we weren’t supposed to play there, it somehow drew us like a magnet.

But Fliss is such a goody-goody. She always does everything adults tell her. I mean, that’s not normal is it? So what can a girl do but rise to the challenge?

“Come on Fliss, live dangerously!” I mocked, climbing on top of the rusting heap of junk. “What do you think’s going to happen? Do you think the rubbish is going to leap up and BITE you?”

As I yelled that, I jumped up, and a load of old manky pipes came clattering down behind me.

“I think you ought to be careful Kenny,” warned Frankie. “It does look kind of dangerous over there.”

That’s typical of Frankie these days! Not too long ago she’d have been up on that pile of rubbish herself. But now? Oh no, she’s gone all responsible, hasn’t she? Just because she’s got Izzy her baby sister to think about. I mean, Izzy’s not even with her half the time, but Frankie still thinks she’s got to set some kind of example. Crazy if you ask me. And kind of boring. Now don’t get me wrong, she can still be kind of wild sometimes. It’s just that on this particular evening she definitely had her serious head on.

“Oh come on, you guys! What’s the matter with you?” I yelled exasperatedly. “I’m only trying to have some fun. You remember what that is, don’t you?”

The others were all standing at the bottom of the junk heap looking up at me.

“What about you Lyndz?” I asked. “You always like a laugh, don’t you?”

Lyndz has four brothers, so she knows how to hold her own. And she’s usually up for most things too.

“Nah,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll give it a miss, thanks.”

What a load of wimps! The only person who looked kind of intrigued was Rosie herself.

“Come on then Rosie-Posie!” I teased. “Let’s see what you’re made of!”

I climbed higher up the pile of junk and stared at her defiantly. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken as well,” I goaded her.

Rosie flashed her eyes at me and fixed her mouth in an expression of determination. She was just about to put her foot on the bottom of the pile when Lyndz said:

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Rosie. I’ve just heard your Tiff come in the gate. She’d be furious if she saw you.”

“Yeah, she’ll tell your mum and then we’ll all be in deep doom,” reasoned Frankie.

I was fed up with the others interfering. So I started to cluck and flap my arms about. But it was pretty tough keeping my balance, because I could feel all the rubbish shifting beneath me whenever I tried to move my feet. Rosie looked round, but there was no sign of Tiff – just Fliss and the others looking at her anxiously.

“Come on Rosie, don’t be a wimp. It’s ace up here!” I called, throwing my arms wide. The bedstead creaked ominously beneath me.

Rosie looked at me and grinned.

“Don’t do it Rosie. Please!” whispered Fliss.

But it was too late. Rosie took a step back and tried to run up the pile of rubbish. Even I’d taken it a bit steady at first. But Rosie had a devilish look in her eyes. She wanted to prove to everybody that she wasn’t chickening out of a challenge. The trouble was that the more she tried to run up the junk, the more it moved about and started to swallow her up. I’ll always remember how scared she looked.

“Here, Rosie – take my hand!” I called, bending down to try to grab hold of her. But I couldn’t quite reach her. She reached up as far as she could, but then she lost her balance completely and went crashing down from the junk heap. It was horrible. She just sort of crumpled up and thudded to the ground, hitting her head on the concrete slabs of the patio.

It was just the worst sound ever. I’ll never forget that CRACK! But worse than that was all the blood that started to ooze out of her head. I’d never seen anything like it, and I spend my life watching stuff like Casualty on the TV. This was a zillion times worse than anything I’d ever seen on that programme.

It must have taken a minute to happen, but it felt like an hour. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. I was vaguely aware of the others screaming and crying, but it was like it was background noise or something. It was only when Fliss started wailing, “You’ve killed her, you’ve killed her!” that I was finally brought back to my senses.

“Don’t be stupid!” I told her in my calmest doctor’s voice. “She’s just had a fall.”

I bent down and put my ear to her mouth. She was still breathing, thank goodness. But her eyes were closed and she seemed completely out of it.

“Go and call for an ambulance!” I shouted, and Frankie ran inside.

Just at that minute Tiff and Spud came round the corner.

“What’s all this screaming?” complained Tiff, sounding all superior. “I thought Mum told you not to play here!”

Then she saw Rosie lying in a pool of blood and started screaming herself.