Rose Impey - Sleepover at Kenny’s - Definitely Not For Boys!

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Goodbye

Have you been invited to all these Sleepovers?

Sleepover kit list

Copyright

About the Publisher

Shall I tell you what I got for Christmas? A pair of shoes with heels. Coo-el. At first my mum said I wasn’t old enough for heels.

“I’m ten,” I told her. “How old do you have to be?”

Dad said, “You’re tall enough already.” But he’s just worried that one day I’m going to be taller than him.

I really, really wanted them, you know what I mean? So I just kept on and on and in the end… I won! One-nil to me. Yeah!

They’ve got silver buckles on them. They are drop-dead gorgeous . I told Mum and Dad, “You’re the best, most groovy parents in the whole wide world.” So it was really important to come up with something brill for them.

My dad was easy, I always buy him a big bar of Toblerone. It’s his fave chocolate. Then I found the perfect present for Mum: this fat little pig lying down in the mud with all her babies round her. It was so cute. My mum adores pigs, she’s got a whole collection. The only trouble was it cost four pounds fifty!

I’m always broke, are you? Kenny is too, money goes through her fingers like water. So we came up with this brilliant idea to earn some, and we got the rest of the Sleepover Club to help us. It was a great plan and we could have been seriously rich, if Kenny’s horrible sister, Molly The Monster, hadn’t spoiled everything. But don’t worry, we got our own back. When we had our last sleepover at Kenny’s house we gave her a real scare. It was excellent.

I know, I know, we got grounded again, but listen, it was worth it. She nearly went haywire. And I had the best part in it.

Come on. Let’s go up to my room and I’ll tell you all about it. But remember, this is Sleepover Club business, so don’t tell the others I told you.

Can you remember everyone? Laura McKenzie, otherwise known as Kenny. Fliss – her real name – Felicity Sidebotham. Lyndsey Collins – we call her Lyndz, we’ve been friends scince we first started school. And Rosie Cartwright. And me, of course: Francesca Theresa Thomas, but everyone calls me Frankie.

Now where should I start?

I suppose it really started early in December, the day we were helping our teacher, Mrs Weaver, put up the Christmas decorations in the hall. It was a great skive, it took all afternoon. She kept having to go out to check on the rest of the class so we spent most of the time wrapping ourselves up in paper chains and Chinese lanterns. It was such a laugh. Then we started talking about Christmas presents and what we were going to buy each other. After that I didn’t feel like laughing.

“I’ve got all your presents and they’re already wrapped,” said Fliss.

I couldn’t believe it.

“What’ve you got us?” said Kenny, straight out, just like that.

“The new Oasis tape.” Fliss looked so pleased with herself.

“What, all of us?” said Rosie. “Wowsers!”

The others were dead excited but at first all I could think was: it’s just not fair . Fliss has so much more money than the rest of us. She gets loads of pocket money. Even Lyndz can earn extra by helping her mum with Spike, their baby, but Rosie and Kenny and me just get regular pocket money and it’s never enough, especially at Christmas. Fliss had spent nearly as much money on each of us as I had to spend on everyone put together.

When I went home I tried to talk to my mum and dad about it but it was a waste of time. My mum and dad are lawyers; they have an answer for everything.

“Please, can I have some extra money? I really need it. Fliss has spent pounds on my Christmas present.”

“How do you know that?” said Dad. “Did she leave the price on?”

“Of course not. But everyone knows what tapes cost.”

“Well, perhaps Felicity can afford to spend that much on her friends, but it’s no reason why you need to,” said Mum.

“Remember it’s Christmas,” said Dad. “It’s not a competition.”

Well, I knew that. My grandma’s always telling me, it’s not the gift that counts, it’s the thought behind it. But it wasn’t just Fliss’s present I was worried about. I needed money for everyone’s. I went upstairs and emptied my purse and counted my money. But I’d only counted it half an hour earlier and it still only came to £8.43. If I spent £4.50 on my mum’s pig I’d have less than £4 to spend on everyone else put together. I wrote a list of the people I wanted to give presents to: Mum & Dad, Grandma, Grandad, Kenny, Fliss, Lyndz, Rosie and some chews for Pepsi, my dog. It just wasn’t enough and you didn’t have to be Mastermind to work that out.

I needed a good moan, so I got on the phone to Kenny. She’s my best friend after all and that’s what best friends are for.

“Hiya. It’s me, Frankie.”

“Oh, hi, Frankie.”

“I am so broke. I’ve only got £8.43 in all the world.”

“Well, that’s more than I’ve got.”

“I don’t know how I can possibly be expected to get all my Christmas presents with a measly £8.43.”

“No, nor me.”

“And now Fliss has spent pounds on us I feel terrible only spending 50p on her.”

“Mmmm. Me too.”

This conversation was not helping at all. It was a bit like talking into a black hole. What we needed here was some action.

I said, “So! What are we going to do?”

“Rob a bank?”

“Oh, Kenny, be serious. We need to find some way of making money where we won’t end up in jail.”

“OK. Let’s both make a list. I’ll ring you back.”

I sat down with a pen and a pad and tried to come up with some ideas, but the more I thought about it the madder I got. There are a few things about my family which I don’t think are at all fair. For example, I am an only child, which I think is completely unfair. I keep telling my parents how much I’d like a brother or sister, but they don’t take any notice. Although, come to think of it, if I had, it would mean an extra present to buy!

Another thing is that I already do all sorts of jobs which other people could get extra pocket money for, like walking the dog for instance. Yes, I know she’s my dog, but even so… And like washing up, or drying and putting away. Other people get extra money for doing that, but I’m expected to do it anyway. Mum and Dad are always telling me, “We’re a team, Frankie. We all do our share. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

I suppose it is, but it doesn’t help me make any money, does it? The other thing is, my mum and dad don’t give me as much pocket money as other people get, even though they could afford to, because they don’t believe in spoiling me! Huh! I wish. They think all the adverts on TV make children want lots of things they don’t really need, and I suppose they do. But this is different. This is to buy presents for other people, for them even.