“And then it starts to rain, and everyone rushes inside like a bunch of wimps,” Kenny went on. “Footballers don’t do that.”
“Yeah, and what’s with those scores?” Rosie said. “I mean, fifteen, thirty, forty. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Then there’s all that love-this and love-that, too,” Lyndz chimed in. “And what’s that juice bit all about?”
“You mean deuce,” Kenny, Rosie and I said together.
“Oh.” Lyndz turned pink. “I thought it meant they were thirsty!”
We got the giggles then.
“You know what I hate,” Rosie said, when we’d calmed down a bit. “The way all the other TV programmes are taken off when Wimbledon’s on.”
“Oh, yeah,” I agreed. “We don’t get to see Neighbours for two whole weeks. How mean is that?”
“My mum’s mad on tennis,” Lyndz said. “She watches it all day, when it’s on.”
“Mine too,” I agreed.
“So does our Tiff,” Rosie added.
“So does Molly the Monster,” Kenny said gloomily. That’s her sister, by the way.
“OK, so none of us like tennis,” I said. “Let’s forget about it, and decide what we want to do.”
“I can’t wait for next week,” said a snooty voice just behind us. “I’m really looking forward to the tennis coaching. Aren’t you, Emily?”
We knew who it was, of course. There’s only one person in the whole world who’s that snotty. Our arch-enemy, Emma Hughes, and her weedy little sidekick, Emily Berryman, also known as the M&Ms – or the Queen and the Goblin.
“And we’ll be able to practise at the Green Lawns club,” Emily said in her gruff, goblin-like voice. “I’m really glad we’ve joined.”
“Yes, it’s one of the best tennis clubs in England, you know,” the Queen said. She is such a big fat snob. “And don’t forget they’re having that special gala afternoon next week to celebrate the club being open for fifty years. That’ll be fun.”
OK, so we were listening. We couldn’t help it. It was so typical of the M&Ms to go around boasting at the top of their voices.
Emma Hughes spotted us earwigging. She put this face on like she’d just swallowed a whole lemon.
“Haven’t you lot got anything better to do than listen to other people’s conversations?” she snapped.
“No,” Kenny said.
That floored the Queen.
“Well, just mind your own business,” she said feebly.
Kenny shrugged. “I might’ve known those two wimps would be into tennis,” she said, loud enough for Emma and Emily to hear.
Emma glared at us. “And I might’ve known you idiots wouldn’t be,” she retorted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
The Queen and the Goblin smirked. “You lot wouldn’t be allowed into Green Lawns,” Emma Hughes sniffed snootily. “Tennis is a game for nice people who’ve got lots of money.”
“Are you saying we’re not posh enough for your stupid club?” Kenny was getting quite annoyed now. I glanced at Lyndz and Rosie. We might just have to sit on her again to stop her jumping on Emma!
“That’s right,” Emily said gruffly.
The Queen and the Goblin looked very pleased with themselves, because they thought they’d got one over on us. They soon stopped though, when Kenny took a step towards them.
“I wouldn’t want to be in any club that you two were members of, anyway!” Kenny snorted. “And tennis is a load of rubbish. You wouldn’t catch me playing a daft game like that.”
“Yeah, tennis is for wimps like you who are too scared to play proper games,” I joined in.
“So don’t worry,” Rosie added, “we wouldn’t be seen dead at your stupid tennis club.”
“Now push off and stop bothering us,” Lyndz finished up.
“Take no notice of them, Emma,” the Goblin muttered as they walked off with their noses in the air. “They’re just jealous.”
“I know,” the Queen agreed. “Wait till you see my two-handed backhand, Emily. It’s my best shot.” She swung out with an imaginary tennis racket, and hit the Goblin smack on the shoulder.
“Ow!” Emily yowled. Which had us all in fits, of course.
“Those two have got a nerve,” Kenny grumbled. She grabbed Lyndz’s empty crisp packet, blew it up and then burst it with a loud bang. “Fancy telling us we’re not posh enough to join their tennis club.”
“Yeah, fancy that!” I grinned.
“Well, now that we’re definitely not going to play tennis over the summer, what are we going to do?” Rosie asked.
“Here’s Fliss,” Lyndz said.
Fliss came hurrying across the playground towards us. She was looking pretty pleased with herself.
“Hiya, Flissy.” Kenny waved at her. “We’re just talking about what we’re going to do over the holidays.”
“Yeah, have you got any suggestions?” I asked.
“But not too girly,” Kenny added.
“We can’t think of anything much,” Lyndz said.
Fliss grinned at us.
“It’s all sorted,” she said. “Well, the first week of the holidays is, anyway. It’s going to be really excellent!”
We all sat up, looking interested.
“So what are we going to be doing?” Rosie asked eagerly.
Fliss beamed at us. “I’ve signed us all up for a week’s tennis coaching at the local college!”
We were all too stunned to say anything for a moment. Then Kenny jumped to her feet.
“You’ve done what?” she roared.
“I knew you’d be pleased,” Fliss said chirpily. “We get a whole week of coaching, and…” Her voice tailed off as she looked round at us. “What’s the matter?”
“We all hate tennis, that’s what’s the matter!” I pointed out. “Fliss, why didn’t you ask us first?”
Fliss turned pink. “I thought you’d be pleased,” she mumbled.
“We’ve just told the M&Ms that we wouldn’t be seen dead playing tennis!” Kenny groaned. “They’re going to laugh their heads off if we turn up for those coaching sessions now.”
“Fliss, you’re going to have to cross our names off that list,” Rosie said.
“But I like tennis,” Fliss said stubbornly. “Come on, it’ll be a laugh. And the guy who’s doing the coaching is really nice.”
“How do you know?” Lyndz asked.
“I – er – just heard that he was,” Fliss replied, blushing madly.
I glanced at Rosie, Lyndz and Kenny. They looked about as impressed as I was. None of us wanted to spend one whole week of our precious holiday doing something we didn’t like and just weren’t interested in. Then, all of a sudden, I remembered something.
“Hold on a minute, Fliss,” I said slowly. “Has this got something to do with your Auntie Jill?”
“No,” Fliss said, trying not to look guilty. “Why?”
“Because I remember you saying that your Auntie Jill was going out with a tennis coach.” I stared hard at Fliss, and she began to fidget. She was always hopeless at telling fibs!
“Oh, all right.” Fliss gave in. “Auntie Jill’s boyfriend, Mark, is the one who’s running the course. And she asked me to get as many people signed up as I could.”
“Oh, great,” Kenny grumbled. “Why does it have to be us?”
“Look, it’s only for a week,” Fliss pleaded. “And you like my Auntie Jill, don’t you? She’d be really grateful.”
That kind of made it difficult for us. We did like Fliss’s Auntie Jill. She was our Snowy Owl at Brownies, and she was a great laugh.
“If you all come, I’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the summer,” Fliss promised.
“What, anything?” Kenny said with an evil grin.
“Anything,” Fliss said bravely.
“OK, I’m in,” Kenny sighed, rolling her eyes. “I must be crazy.”
Rosie and Lyndz nodded. So did I.
�
��Oh, great!” Fliss gasped. She was really pleased, but the rest of us looked like we’d agreed to spend a week at the dentist having our teeth pulled out one by one.
Still, it was only for a week. It couldn’t be that bad.
Could it?
“Tennis?”
My mum stared at me as if I’d said we planned to spend a week of the summer holidays learning Chinese. “You girls are going to play tennis?”
I nodded. “What’s so strange about that?”
“Well, for one thing, you moan like mad every time I watch Wimbledon,” my mum pointed out, bouncing my baby sister Izzy on her hip. “You said you hated tennis.”
“Long story, Mum.” I picked up my sleepover bag. School had finished – at last! – and I was in my bedroom, packing for the sleepover at Fliss’s. “Anyway, that’s what we’re doing.”
“Oh, well, I suppose it’ll keep you out of trouble,” my mum said. Then she shook her head. “Why on earth did I say that? Nothing keeps you girls out of trouble.”
“Thanks a lot, Mum,” I grumbled, stuffing my purple pyjamas into my bag. “We’re only going to be messing around with rackets and tennis balls, you know. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Quite a lot, with Kenny around,” my mum replied.
The doorbell rang.
“That’ll be Rosie,” I said, grabbing my bag. Rosie’s mum had arranged to pick us all up and take us round to Fliss’s. “’Bye, Mum, ’bye, Izzy.”
Rosie was waiting for me on the doorstep, and Kenny and Lyndz were in the car with Mrs Cartwright. I squeezed into the back seat next to them.
“So you’re all going to be playing tennis next week,” Mrs Cartwright remarked, as she drove off. Like my mum, she seemed to think that this was somehow really funny. Parents! You wouldn’t have them if they were being given away, would you? “I hope you’re going to behave yourselves.”
“Mum!” Rosie muttered, looking embarrassed.
“’Course we will, Mrs Cartwright,” Kenny said in that voice which meant she was up to something. I glanced sideways at her. She winked at me.
“Tell you later,” she hissed.
Mrs Cartwright dropped us off at Fliss’s house, and we all trooped up to the front door.
“Flissy really owes us one for this,” Kenny grumbled, ringing the doorbell and keeping her finger on it. “I can’t believe what she’s got us into.”
“It might be OK,” Lyndz said hopefully.
“Maybe we could all pretend to injure ourselves on the first day,” Rosie suggested. “Fliss couldn’t expect us to play if we were in agony.”
“Want to bet?” Kenny muttered. “Anyway, don’t you think it might look a bit obvious if we all sprain our ankles? Oh come on, Fliss!” she added, leaning extra hard on the doorbell.
Fliss opened the door with her hands over her ears.
“Kenny, what’re you doing!” she said crossly.
We stared at her. Fliss was wearing a short white dress, and I mean short. Fliss loves miniskirts, but this was ridiculous. It was right up round the tops of her legs.
“Aren’t you a bit cold?” Kenny asked, as we all went inside.
“This is my new tennis dress.” Fliss did a twirl in the hallway. “Do you like it?”
“It’s a bit short,” Lyndz said.
“Yeah, we can see your knickers,” Kenny added.
“You’re supposed to see them,” Fliss snapped.
“Why?” Rosie asked.
“Well, because tennis dresses are always short,” Fliss said feebly.
“Why?” Lyndz wanted to know.
Fliss looked blank.
“So you can run around in them easily, I suppose,” I suggested.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Fliss agreed quickly. “Come on, I’ve got some really great ideas for the sleepover tonight.”
We all looked interested.
“I thought we’d have a tennis sleepover,” Fliss said eagerly. “We can play tennis in the garden, and Mum’s got some strawberries and cream for tea just like they have at Wimbledon. Oh, and I’ve got some tennis videos we can watch afterwards.”
“You’re kidding!” Kenny began indignantly, “That sounds like a load of—OW!”
I took my foot off her big toe.
“That sounds great, Fliss,” I said.
“Yeah, great,” said Rosie and Lyndz glumly.
Fliss looked pleased. “Come on, let’s go into the back garden,” she said.
We followed her into the kitchen. Fliss’s mum and her mum’s sister, Auntie Jill, were sitting at the breakfast bar, having coffee.
“Oh, hello, girls.” Auntie Jill grinned at us. “I hear you’re going to Mark’s coaching sessions next week.”
We nodded.
“I didn’t know you girls were interested in tennis,” Mrs Proudlove said, taking a sip of coffee.
We all started shuffling our feet and looking a bit sheepish.
“Come on,” Fliss said hastily. “Let’s go outside.”
“Jill and I had a game today,” Mrs Proudlove went on. “It was pretty close, wasn’t it, Jill? I won, though!”
“That was a great overhead lob you pulled off at match point,” Auntie Jill said. “It had a lot of topspin on it.”
“And what about that forehand drive you won the second game with?” Fliss’s mum added. “The way you smashed that down the line was brilliant.”
I glanced at Kenny, who rolled her eyes at me. Mrs Proudlove and Auntie Jill might as well have been talking Greek for all we could understand! Were we the only people in the world who weren’t tennis-mad?
“Oh, Mum, have you heard anything from the Green Lawns Tennis Club yet?” Fliss asked, as she opened the back door.
Kenny nudged me. That was the same club the M&Ms belonged to.
Mrs Proudlove shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “Your auntie and I played on the tennis courts in the park today. We’re still waiting to hear if we can join the club.”
“Well, Mark’s put in a good word for us,” Auntie Jill said. She turned to us and added, “Mark works at Green Lawns. It’s one of the best tennis clubs in the country, you know.”
“You didn’t tell us your mum and Auntie Jill wanted to join that snooty club,” Kenny accused Fliss, as we went outside.
“It’s not snooty,” Fliss said indignantly.
“Well, the M&Ms go there, so it must be,” I pointed out.
Fliss pouted. “I don’t care,” she said. “If Mum and Auntie Jill get in, they can take guests, so I’ll be able to play there too.”
“Do you reckon Fliss is really keen on tennis?” Kenny whispered in my ear.
“I reckon she just likes the short skirts!” I whispered back.
Fliss was bustling about giving out rackets and tennis balls.
“I’ve got my own racket,” she said importantly, waving it in the air. “You can have this one, Rosie.”
Rosie stared at the racket she’d just been given. It was about a hundred years old, and half the strings were broken.
“Sorry,” Fliss said. “It’s my mum’s old one.”
“Can’t I borrow her new one?” Rosie asked.
Fliss shook her head. “It cost loads of money. She said I could only borrow it over her dead body.”
“What about the rest of us?” Kenny asked.
“I’ve only got two rackets,” Fliss said apologetically. “We’ll have to take it in turns.”
Kenny didn’t look very impressed.
“Can’t we play something else?” she grumbled.
“We’re playing tennis.” Fliss glared at Kenny. “Now go and sit down. You lot can watch while me and Rosie go first.”
“Big deal,” Kenny moaned under her breath, as we all sat down on the grass. “This is so boring!”
“Ssh!” I nudged her. “It’s Fliss’s sleepover, and you know what she’s like.”
Kenny yawned. “If I die from boredom, you can have my pet rat!”
“Thanks a lot
,” I said, as Fliss threw the ball into the air, and hit it towards Rosie.
Rosie stepped forward, looking a bit nervous. I thought she’d miss the ball, but she didn’t. She gave it a THWACK. At least, she tried to. When the ball hit her racket, there was a snapping sound as it smashed through the dodgy strings, and out the other side. We all watched open-mouthed as the ball sailed over the fence, and into the Watson-Wades’ garden next door. Then there was a SPLASH as it fell into their pond.
We all started to laugh our heads off, except Fliss, who turned pale. The Watson-Wades don’t like us, and we don’t like them either. We call them the Grumpies.
“Quick, into the house!” she hissed, and we all dashed inside. Kenny could hardly walk, she was laughing so much.
“No more tennis!” she whispered gleefully in my ear. “Maybe we can do something more exciting now instead.”
“OK, let’s watch some of my tennis videos,” Fliss said. She was on her knees in front of the TV, sorting through them.
I thought Kenny was going to kill her, but luckily Mrs Proudlove called to say tea was ready.
Tea was pretty boring, too. The food was OK, but Mrs Proudlove, Auntie Jill and Fliss just went on about tennis for the whole meal. They were talking about forehands and backhands and lobs and volleys until our heads were spinning like tennis balls!
We couldn’t escape from tennis after tea, either. Fliss put one of her videos on, and we sat and watched them until we went to bed. Kenny fell asleep and started snoring, which really annoyed Fliss.
“That has to be the most mega-boring sleepover of all time,” Kenny moaned under her breath, as we trailed upstairs to Fliss’s bedroom at the end of the evening.
“Last one in the bathroom is useless at tennis!” Fliss yelled, grabbing her pink pyjamas. She dashed off down the landing, while the rest of us looked gloomily at each other.
“I don’t care about being last,” Rosie said.
“Me neither,” Kenny added. And she’s usually the one who pushes us all out of the way!
Lyndz looked round at us. “Maybe we could get to like tennis,” she suggested.
Kenny chucked a pillow at her.
“No, really,” Lyndz went on. “Anyway, even if we don’t like it, we can still have a laugh at the coaching sessions. We’ve got to go to them now, so there’s no point in moaning about it.”
Mega Sleepover 7 Page 16