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Authors: Angie Bates
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creation was heaps bigger and more impressive than that.) We swished back a corner of the curtain and tiptoed into a shadowy green cave.
“Magic!” we gasped.
“The green makes it look like moss,” breathed Lyndz.
“It’s
perfect
,” said Rosie. “Thanks, Dave!”
“And when you’ve fixed up all those little lights, Dave,” said Frankie cunningly, “it’ll be even
more
perfect.”
“Give me a chance,” complained Dave. “What did your last slave die of?”
Frankie beamed. “Admiration?” she suggested.
We had one last problem. Somehow we had to smuggle in the entire contents of our zone, without the other kids seeing.
In the end, Mrs Poole agreed to let us to stay on after school on Friday, even though this meant she had to work late herself.
Dishy Dave volunteered to help. “To speed things along a bit,” he said.
Can you believe that even with us all working flat out, our Ecology Zone wasn’t finished till 7.30pm on Friday night?!
Finally Kenny slumped to the floor. “I’m so shattered I can’t tell if it’s OK, or just total rubbish,” she whimpered.
“Me neither,” yawned Lyndz.
Dave gazed around one last time before he pulled the curtains shut and firmly safety-pinned them together, to discourage any unofficial peeking.
He shook his head. “No, it’s OK,” he said. “Definitely OK.”
OK, big apology coming up. No, I’m serious. I’d be going completely ballistic if I was you. I’d be thinking, when IS that little fluff-brain going to get to the point? You’re DYING to know what was keeping us girls so busy in the stockroom, aren’t you? (Heh heh heh. So was Mrs Weaver.)
I’m
truuuly
sorry I had to keep you in the dark so long, but hang on to your hat. Durn durn DURN. Get ready for me to tell you all about the Sleepover Club’s finest moment!!
All I’ve got to do is press REWIND and take you whizzing back to that January day when Cuddington Primary School had its very own funky Millennium Dome…
Hope you don’t hate crowds, because our school hall was totally BUZZING that day. We didn’t need to worry about any unscheduled peeking. Everyone was too busy sorting out last-minute technical hitches of their own! Somehow we’d kind of forgotten that our Ecology Zone was just one part of a major school event.
Miss Platt’s class did a Storyteller Zone. We’d never seen a real live storyteller before, so we thought we’d pop down and earwig for a bit. She was quite an eyeful – draped in a blue velvet robe covered with appliquéd stars and moons. She’d brought this kind of clothes-airer with her, bristling with weird rattles and shakers. Whenever she needed a sound effect, she’d whip something off the airer. All the mums and dads were mesmerised by her. We were mostly fascinated by her hair. You could have used it to stop traffic!
Lyndz bought a bag of Indian sweets in the Nourishment Zone, which she said reached absolutely COSMIC levels of deliciousness. Well, that’s what she said after the first three. After a couple more she went a bit quiet!
I think being a big sister has really changed Frankie, because she went incredibly soppy about some infants she saw making Chuck Wagon Stew with Mrs Carpenter.
“OK, to you and me, it’s just a pan of baked beans with cocktail sausages mixed in,” she burbled. “But those little kids were totally convinced they were cooking real cowboy food!”
Personally, I was still recovering from wandering into the Body Zone by mistake, and coming face to face with this, like, gigantic papier mâché model brain. I had no IDEA brains looked like the insides of walnuts, did you? It was so gruesome (and so GREY), my knees went completely to jelly.
Kenny heard me kind of moaning to myself. So she rushed over to see what was up. But instead of giving me some sympathy, she went into this major scientific rapture. “I’d just LURVE to have one of those in my bedroom,” she gushed. “Hey! I could use it for a lamp.”
Can
“Magic!” we gasped.
“The green makes it look like moss,” breathed Lyndz.
“It’s
perfect
,” said Rosie. “Thanks, Dave!”
“And when you’ve fixed up all those little lights, Dave,” said Frankie cunningly, “it’ll be even
more
perfect.”
“Give me a chance,” complained Dave. “What did your last slave die of?”
Frankie beamed. “Admiration?” she suggested.
We had one last problem. Somehow we had to smuggle in the entire contents of our zone, without the other kids seeing.
In the end, Mrs Poole agreed to let us to stay on after school on Friday, even though this meant she had to work late herself.
Dishy Dave volunteered to help. “To speed things along a bit,” he said.
Can you believe that even with us all working flat out, our Ecology Zone wasn’t finished till 7.30pm on Friday night?!
Finally Kenny slumped to the floor. “I’m so shattered I can’t tell if it’s OK, or just total rubbish,” she whimpered.
“Me neither,” yawned Lyndz.
Dave gazed around one last time before he pulled the curtains shut and firmly safety-pinned them together, to discourage any unofficial peeking.
He shook his head. “No, it’s OK,” he said. “Definitely OK.”
OK, big apology coming up. No, I’m serious. I’d be going completely ballistic if I was you. I’d be thinking, when IS that little fluff-brain going to get to the point? You’re DYING to know what was keeping us girls so busy in the stockroom, aren’t you? (Heh heh heh. So was Mrs Weaver.)
I’m
truuuly
sorry I had to keep you in the dark so long, but hang on to your hat. Durn durn DURN. Get ready for me to tell you all about the Sleepover Club’s finest moment!!
All I’ve got to do is press REWIND and take you whizzing back to that January day when Cuddington Primary School had its very own funky Millennium Dome…
Hope you don’t hate crowds, because our school hall was totally BUZZING that day. We didn’t need to worry about any unscheduled peeking. Everyone was too busy sorting out last-minute technical hitches of their own! Somehow we’d kind of forgotten that our Ecology Zone was just one part of a major school event.
Miss Platt’s class did a Storyteller Zone. We’d never seen a real live storyteller before, so we thought we’d pop down and earwig for a bit. She was quite an eyeful – draped in a blue velvet robe covered with appliquéd stars and moons. She’d brought this kind of clothes-airer with her, bristling with weird rattles and shakers. Whenever she needed a sound effect, she’d whip something off the airer. All the mums and dads were mesmerised by her. We were mostly fascinated by her hair. You could have used it to stop traffic!
Lyndz bought a bag of Indian sweets in the Nourishment Zone, which she said reached absolutely COSMIC levels of deliciousness. Well, that’s what she said after the first three. After a couple more she went a bit quiet!
I think being a big sister has really changed Frankie, because she went incredibly soppy about some infants she saw making Chuck Wagon Stew with Mrs Carpenter.
“OK, to you and me, it’s just a pan of baked beans with cocktail sausages mixed in,” she burbled. “But those little kids were totally convinced they were cooking real cowboy food!”
Personally, I was still recovering from wandering into the Body Zone by mistake, and coming face to face with this, like, gigantic papier mâché model brain. I had no IDEA brains looked like the insides of walnuts, did you? It was so gruesome (and so GREY), my knees went completely to jelly.
Kenny heard me kind of moaning to myself. So she rushed over to see what was up. But instead of giving me some sympathy, she went into this major scientific rapture. “I’d just LURVE to have one of those in my bedroom,” she gushed. “Hey! I could use it for a lamp.”
Can
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