Sue Mongredien - Sleepover Girls on the Catwalk

There’s only one boy who I think is remotely OK, and that’s Ryan Scott at school. I’m not going to go on about him though, especially after all the stick I had from those horrible M&Ms, and also because the others will all just take the mickey out of me too. They’re just jealous ’cos he likes me best, I reckon. He’s nice anyway, you’ve got my word for it. And good-looking. And he wears nice clothes. But that’s enough about him for now!

Last is Rosie who’s the newest member of the club. Well, I say ‘new’ but it feels like she’s been hanging around with us for ages and ages now. Rosie’s nice, when she’s not being grumpy. You’ll like her.

Right, come on, let’s go and see if Mum’s finished vacuuming upstairs. I want to show you my bedroom, but we won’t be able to have a good old chin-wag if she’s in there. Hang on… oh, ace, the coast’s clear. She’s gone to clean Callum’s room, which will take her the rest of the day I should think! Now we can get cosy and I can tell you all about the day us five went on the catwalk. Seriously!

Oh – but would you mind taking your shoes off first? That rug cost a fortune, you know. That’s better. Thanks.

Anyway, on with the story. It all started with my brilliant idea at Brownies. No, wait, I suppose it started before that. Oh, help! This is more difficult than you think!

Do you know what? I think I’m going to start a new chapter. It feels a bit late in this one to launch into the main story. I promise I’ll get on with it in Chapter Two. Honest!

I suppose it started just before Brownies, actually. The others had come round for tea at my house and we’d all got into our uniforms together in my bedroom and were just messing about a bit before Andy drove us there – oh, whoops, forgot to mention Andy. He’s my step-dad – well, he and my mum aren’t actually married, but I call him my step-dad anyway. He’s OK, I suppose.

We had about an hour before we had to go, so I started showing the others my new clothes for our family holiday. If you didn’t know, I love clothes. I’ve got an awesome collection. Don’t get me started though, or I’ll be showing you my new jeans Mum bought me from Gap last Saturday…

The others aren’t really bothered about fashion – not like me. Like I said, Frankie wears a lot of weird things that I wouldn’t be seen dead in, Kenny’s always in her smelly old football top, Lyndz likes mucking about in her jodhpurs or jeans, and Rosie – well, I don’t think Rosie’s mum can afford many new clothes for Rosie, to be honest. Don’t say I told you, though.

So when I announced that I was going to show them what me and Mum had bought in Cuddington the weekend before, they all started groaning and pulling faces.

“Bo-ring,” Kenny moaned. “A pair of trousers is a pair of trousers, if you ask me.”

“Well done, Kenny,” Rosie said sarcastically. “And there was me thinking a pair of trousers was a skirt!”

“Where are you off to this year then, Fliss?” Frankie asked me quickly before a scrap broke out.

“Majorca,” I said. “I told you before, remember? I’ll just show you this sun-dress I’ve got. It’s gorgeous! It’s got spaghetti straps and everything!”

“What, so you can eat them if you get peckish?” Kenny said, winking at Frankie.

I ignored that remark. “Look!” I said, pulling it out from the wardrobe.

“Ooh, it is nice,” said Lyndz. “Dead summery.”

Thank goodness! Someone taking an interest at last! “And I’ve got these shorts…” I said, showing them some new denim cut-offs.

“You want to take those back, Fliss, they’re fraying at the bottom!” said Frankie, all seriously.

“They’re meant to be like that!” I said. “Honestly, Frankie, you—”

But Frankie and Kenny had collapsed in giggles and were rolling around on my bed, gurgling with laughter.

“I think she was joking, Fliss,” said Lyndz.

“Oh,” I said, feeling a bit silly. “Right. Anyway, I’ve got these trousers too, for the evenings when it’s a bit cooler…”

“Let’s see them properly, then,” Rosie said. “Show us what they look like on you , not the hangers!”

“Yeah, if you’re gonna bore us with your clothes, you might as well go the whole hog!” Kenny said. “ Joking , Fliss!” she added before I could strangle her.

“Shall I put them on, then?” I said, hoping Rosie hadn’t just been joking too.

“Yeah, do it!” said Lyndz.

“Shall we all do it?” I said suddenly. I didn’t want them thinking I was selfish or anything. “Shall we all try my holiday clothes on for a giggle?”

“What, like a fashion show?” Frankie said, sitting up on the bed. She’d stopped snorting with laughter by then, thank goodness.

“Yes,” I said. “ Exactly like a fashion show!”

It was quite funny, seeing the others all getting dressed up for a change. The sight of Kenny in my new white mini-skirt and her own scruffy old trainers was sooo hysterical. You should have seen her!

“What’s the big joke?” she growled crossly, as we all burst out laughing at the same time.

“Ooh, darling, you look so… femininer !” Frankie said. “Go on, try on this cropped top with it – let’s see your belly button!”

“Ugh, no chance!” Kenny said. “I’ve decided, I don’t suit skirts – this one’s coming off straightaway!”

“Careful, Kenny, don’t crease it,” I said anxiously, watching her wrenching it off. You could tell she wasn’t used to wearing nice things. “Why don’t you try these velvet trousers instead?”

As for me, of course I was totally into the whole thing. I started being silly to make them all laugh – wiggling my bum and tossing my hair about.

“Ooh, Fliss the supermodel!” giggled Lyndz. “Go, girl, flash us a smile!”

“Strut your stuff, babe!” Frankie yelled as I pranced up and down the bedroom.

“More like Babe the pig, if you ask me,” came a voice from outside the room.

Guess who? I marched over and pulled the door open. You got it – Callum, the brat brother.

“Babe the pig, Babe the pig!” he chanted at me, sticking his tongue out. He is such a…

“Get him!” Kenny shouted, and chucked one of my teddies at him.

“Babe the pig, Fliss looks like Babe the pig,” he shouted over his shoulder, running off down the stairs. “Oink! Oink!”

“It’s war!” I yelled fiercely. “Come here, you pain!”

We all piled down to the living room, and were just about to kill him – death by suffocation from Kenny’s stinky trainers – when unfortunately Mum put her head round the door.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she shouted. “Girls, leave Callum alone. And Callum, stop climbing on the sofa. If you’ve left any marks on it, you’re in trouble!”

Callum scuttled off, and the five of us stood there panting, all wearing different outfits. Mum wasn’t impressed.

“Felicity, those clothes are for your holiday, not to go charging around the house in!” she said in this awful tight little voice. “Now, all of you – get back into your Brownie uniforms, quick! It’s almost time to go!”