The Sleepover Club Surfs the Net

by Fiona Cummings

  We decided that we’d start the assembly with Vikings in a longship ready to land in Britain. We’d show them raiding a village, and then move on to how they lived their lives: the food they ate, the clothes they wore, general things like that. It seemed pretty straightforward at the time. But then we hadn’t bargained for our dumb classmates, had we?

  Everything went really well right up to the day of the performance. I suppose we should have known that it was too good to last.

  We’d had a rehearsal where Ryan Scott had got a bit carried away with the oar he was carrying from the pretend longship. He’d poked it up Fliss’s dress without her knowing. It was only when everyone started laughing that she realised that her knickers were on show to the whole class. I thought she was going to die of embarrassment. As punishment, Mrs Weaver told Scotty-chops that he couldn’t be a Viking any more. Major sulk-fest!

  Anyway, on the morning of the assembly we were all really nervous. Me especially, because I had to introduce it to the whole school. I stood up and I could hear my voice trembling. It was awful.

  The first thing that went wrong was that the model of the longship fell over. All the boys looked really stupid sitting on the PE benches pretending to row. So, in order to restore their street cred in front of their mates, they went absolutely berserk when they pretended to raid the town. It’s a good thing that Mrs Weaver had insisted on using flimsy paper swords or else there would have been blood all over the stage. Ryan Scott was still angry about not being a Viking, so he did his bit as a brave villager trying to prevent their raid. Only he did it a bit too well and refused to surrender. When it looked as though his fight with Danny McCloud was getting out of control, Kenny calmly walked on to the stage and bopped him one. He certainly didn’t expect that.

  After that, everything seemed to go wrong. The M&Ms left grain scattered on the floor after their demonstration of Viking cooking. I’m sure they did that on purpose. Poor Fliss didn’t stand a chance when she was doing her supermodel impersonation demonstrating Viking fashion. She skidded and fell right over, taking Lyndz, who was narrating, with her.

  By then the whole school was in an uproar, and Mrs Poole the headmistress had to step in to calm things down. It was dead embarrassing and Mrs Weaver looked furious.

  “I wish I’d never heard about the stupid Vikings!” I whispered to Kenny as we were making our way back to our classroom.

  “You and me both!” agreed Kenny.

  “I wish we’d never been on the Internet,” hissed Fliss behind us. “If you hadn’t swanked about it so much, we wouldn’t have been so involved in the assembly in the first place. I’m sure that Mrs Weaver’s going to blame us for everything.”

  Looking at Mrs Weaver’s face, I thought that Fliss was probably right.

  We were all really subdued as we trooped back into the classroom. We looked pretty funny still dressed in our Viking costumes, but nobody laughed. Even stupid Ryan Scott, who usually has a joke about everything, was silent.

  When Mrs Weaver came in she just sat at her desk for five minutes not saying anything, just staring at us. It was awful. When she finally spoke her voice was very, very quiet, but we knew by the tone of it that she was very, very cross.

  “I have been teaching for a very long time,” she told us. “And I have never been as ashamed of a class as I was of you just now. I do not expect World War Three to break out when we are trying to present an assembly about the Vikings. And I will not tolerate being made to look a laughing stock in front of the whole school.”

  Big red blotches had begun to spread on her cheeks. I looked at Kenny and Rosie who both pulled faces at me. Lyndz had her head down and Fliss looked as though she was about to cry.

  “I want you to take your maths books out and get on with your work quietly,” Mrs Weaver said. “And if I hear one peep out of any of you, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

  Well, that was the worst morning at school ever. It didn’t get any better either. At break time we had to put up with stupid kids pointing and laughing at us. But it was worse at lunchtime when the dreaded M&Ms sidled over to us.

  “I hope you’re happy,” hissed Emma Hughes. “It’s your fault that everything went wrong this morning. If you hadn’t been so la-di-da about the stupid Internet, Mrs Weaver would never have let you take over the assembly. Emily and I would have made a much better job of it.”

  “At least now she knows that you’re not capable of doing anything properly,” said Emily Berryman in her gruff voice. “And she’ll never trust you with anything again!”

  Then they both tossed their blonde hair and stalked away.

  “They are joking, aren’t they?” whispered Fliss. “Mrs Weaver can’t treat us like this for ever, can she?”

  “It’s Ryan Scott she should be cross with, acting like a mad axeman for no reason,” said Lyndz. “Although you did flatten him Kenny, which I don’t suppose looked very good.”

  “He deserved it, he was ruining everything,” explained Kenny. “I should have flattened those stupid M&Ms as well, for turning the stage into a skating rink.”

  “Yes, I really hurt myself when I fell,” moaned Fliss, rubbing her back.

  “None of us came out of it very well, did we?” I asked. “I think we should prove to Mrs Weaver that we do know how to behave properly. Then she just might forget about the assembly.”

  That afternoon we were extra good. We worked in total silence and we tidied up everywhere without being asked. Mrs Weaver was still angry though and it was a relief when the bell rang for home time.

  “Thank goodness that’s over!” sighed Rosie. We were just getting all our stuff together when Kenny cartwheeled past us down the playground.

  “Phew, that’s better!” she said when she was upright again. “I needed that. I’m sure all that keeping quiet isn’t good for you!”

  Lyndz and Fliss were already at the school gates with Fliss’s brother Callum.

  “What a bunch of losers!” he laughed when Kenny, Rosie and I joined them. “That assembly was funnier than the stuff you see on the telly. Only it wasn’t meant to be, was it? Ha, ha!”

  Fliss thumped him hard on his arm. “Shut up Callum!” she yelled.

  The walk home was our quietest ever – none of us could bear to speak.

  “Best behaviour again tomorrow, OK?” I warned the others as we all said goodbye.

  I was so miserable when I got home that I couldn’t even talk to Mum and Dad about what had happened.

  “Who’s that girl sitting on our floor?” whispered Dad loudly to Mum as we were watching television that evening.

  “I think it’s Francesca, you know, our daughter,” Mum replied. “She’s usually on the Internet at this time – that’s why you don’t recognise her!”

  “Very funny,” I said out loud. “I just thought I’d watch TV with you for a change. That’s OK, isn’t it?”

  They were watching a really boring documentary which I’d never normally watch in a million years. But I couldn’t bear to go on the Internet, because for once I thought the M&Ms were right. If I hadn’t raved about it so much, we wouldn’t have been responsible for our disastrous assembly.

  I still felt miserable the next morning. I’d expected the others to feel the same. But when I got into the playground they were acting like mad monkeys, as usual.

  “What happened to us being on our best behaviour?” I asked, as I walked up to them.

  “Honestly Frankie, you can be so square sometimes!” laughed Kenny. “Lighten up, will you?”

  “Look at this, I saw it last night!” Rosie shoved a newspaper cutting under my nose. The headline read:

  Design a Home Page for a Club or Society to which you belong. The Home Page is the main page of a Club’s web site, and should describe the members of the Club and the kind of activities you get up to.

  The winning entry will be the one which the judges decide demonstrates the most original and exciting design for a Home Page.


  First Prize: A Computer, Internet Package, your Home Page fully designed and accessible on the World Wide Web, plus a selection of 12 CD-Roms.

  5 Runners-up Prizes: Your Home Page fully designed and accessible on the World Wide Web, plus a selection of 6 CD-Roms.

  Get YOUR Club on the Net NOW!

  Well that sounded like a really cool competition. Even if I had decided yesterday that the Internet was trouble.

  “Well what do you make of that, then?” asked Kenny proudly.

  “Yeah, cool!” I said.

  “Just imagine actually winning a computer!” giggled Fliss. “I know that you’ve already got one, but I haven’t.”

  “And what about all those CD-Roms too!” laughed Lyndz. “I love it when we use them at school, but we don’t have many, do we? If we won twelve, we’d be able to use them all the time, wouldn’t we? On the new computer!”

  We all started jumping around really enthusiastically.

  “And a Home Page too!” Kenny cried. “Rosie says that if we have our own, people would be able to access it from anywhere in the world, is that right?”

  “Yep, I guess so,” I nodded, grinning.

  Then I stopped jumping around as something occurred to me. “It all sounds great, but I think we’re forgetting something,” I groaned.

  The others all looked at me, and said together, “What?”

  “We don’t belong to any clubs, do we?” I explained. “What could we have a Home Page of? Mrs Weaver’s class at Cuddington Primary School?”

  “Nah, that’s not very exciting is it? And it’s not a club anyway,” said Kenny, shaking her head. “What about forming our own five-aside football team? We’d have a Club to design a Home Page for then.”

  “No way!” the rest of us shrieked.

  “What about writing about horses and the way we saved Mrs McAllister’s stables?” asked Lyndz. “That’s exciting!”

  “Mmm,” I agreed. “But that was a one-off thing. It’s supposed to be a club we belong to all the time.”

  The bell went for the start of school.

  “Let’s think about this and try to sort something out at break time,” I told the others. We started to waddle into our classroom like ducks, but we saw Mrs Weaver frowning at us and we remembered that we were supposed to be on our best behaviour.

  It was obvious that she was still in a very bad temper when we got into the classroom. It didn’t help that we were carrying on with our Viking project. Vikings were bad news for all of us. Mrs Weaver said that we had to imagine that we lived in a Viking settlement and describe our daily life. I love writing stories like that. My gran always says that my imagination tends to run away with me anyway.

  “And I want no noise please!” Mrs Weaver said sternly.

  Kenny and I pulled a face at each other and Fliss started to arrange all her pencils and felt-tips on the table in front of her. She always does that. She’s like that at sleepovers too, always very neat and precise with everything. And thinking of that made me realise that we hadn’t arranged our next sleepover yet.

  ‘I’ll have to call the Sleepover Club together at break,’ I thought to myself. Then one of those cartoon light-bulbs went on above my head.

  “That’s it! I’ve got it!” I shouted. Unfortunately, I shouted it right out loud!

  Everybody turned round to stare at me.

  “I do hope that there’s a good explanation for that noise!” said Mrs Weaver sharply, looking up from her desk.

  “It was Frankie, Miss,” said Emma Hughes. Trust her to drop me right in it.

  “And I don’t need anyone telling tales, thank you Emma,” snapped Mrs Weaver. “Well, Francesca? I’m waiting.”

  Boy, talk about thinking on your feet. I was red and sweaty and stammering.

  “Well, I, erm, I…” Then inspiration struck. “I thought I could write as though I was a Viking child. It’ll be a bit, erm, different.”

  I could hear the M&Ms sniggering.

  “That’s a very original idea, Francesca, I’ll look forward to reading your composition,” said Mrs Weaver. “But in future, do you think you could keep your inspiration to yourself? Right, everyone get on. And not another word.”

  The others were looking at me as though I’d completely lost it.

  “I’ll tell you at break time,” I mouthed to them.

  I couldn’t wait for the bell to go. When it did, we all piled out into the playground.

  “OK, Frankie, you didn’t really get so hyped about your work, did you?” Kenny said. “What’s so exciting?”

  “I’ve got it!” I yelled.

  “What have you got? Chickenpox?” asked Rosie, innocently.

  “No dummy,” I laughed. “The club we all belong to. You know, the club for the competition.”

  “Go on then, spill!” squeaked Fliss.

  “The Sleepover Club!” I giggled.

  “The Sleepover Club! Of course!” yelled Lyndz, leaping up and down. “The most important thing we do, and we almost forgot about it!”

  “But is that the kind of club they mean?” asked Fliss.

  “It’s exactly the kind of club which could win us the competition, it’s so different,” I explained, rolling my eyes a bit. “They said the winner would be the most original entry.”

  “All right!” yelled Kenny. “Now all we need is a sleepover, so that we can practise on the Internet and check out lots of other Home Pages.”

  The others were all looking at me with their dopey, pleading expressions. How could I refuse?

  “OK, OK, I’ll ask Mum and Dad tonight,” I said.

  I just hoped that this wasn’t going to land us in as much trouble as it had the last time we surfed the Net together. Some hope!

  Now, as you probably know, my parents are really cool when it comes to letting all my friends come round for sleepovers. They kind of trust me to act sensibly. And although we’ve done lots of crazy things in our time, we’ve never done anything totally wild. But you know, something strange has happened to my Dad. Ever since he found out that Mum’s pregnant, he’s been acting kind of weird. He worries that things are going to stress her out and somehow harm the baby. But Mum is just the same as ever – really laidback about everything. So when I asked Dad about the sleepover, I should have known that it would be a big issue.

  “Well, I don’t know Frankie,” he said, looking all concerned. “You know that your mother needs to take it easy at the moment. And your friends are like the Wild Bunch at the best of times.”

  “Aw, come on Dad!” I pleaded. “You’ve never complained before – well, not much. We’ll be ever so quiet. We’ll be planning our entry for the Internet competition anyway, so we won’t be making much noise at all.”

  “I don’t know Frankie,” said Dad again, shaking his head. “We’ve got to be a bit more considerate now, with your mother’s condition.”

  Just at that moment, Mum came into the room.

  “What on earth are you talking about, Gwyn? My ‘condition’ indeed!” she laughed, and playfully slapped Dad’s hand. “You make me sound about ninety with some terrible disease! Of course Frankie can have her friends round. I don’t want to put our normal life on hold for the next seven months.”

  Good old Mum. Dad looked at her over the top of his glasses and shrugged his shoulders in a resigned sort of way.

  “Just try and be a bit considerate, won’t you?” he said, before going back to reading his paper.

  I told the others the next day that we could have the sleepover at my place on Saturday. I also warned them that we wouldn’t be able to get up to the same sort of noisy stunts as usual, because of Mum.

  “I remember my mum being really ill when she was expecting Callum,” Fliss told us. “She was sick all the time, it was awful!”

  “Mum’s fine,” I told them. “It’s Dad I’m worried about.”

  “Don’t worry, Frankie,” said Rosie soothingly. “We’ll be too busy working on our competition entry to get into any
trouble.”

  Hmm. I wasn’t so sure that I believed that. But I worked really hard to get ready for the sleepover so that Mum wouldn’t have to do anything. I tidied my room and I cleaned up in the kitchen. I even offered to prepare the supper for everyone on Saturday evening, but Dad said that was OK, he’d make one of his famous scrummy pizzas.

  We’ve had tons of sleepovers now, so I know this sounds crazy, but I was really nervous about this one. It’s hard to explain, but I guess I was worried that the others would think it was boring if we didn’t do our usual wacky stuff like International Gladiators. I felt sort of caught in the middle: Dad wanted us to be quiet and I was sure that my friends would expect us to be as loud as normal. Somehow I had to keep everyone happy.

  By the time five o’clock on Saturday came, I’d got myself in a right old state. I was still tidying up everywhere as I waited for the first person to arrive.

  “Honestly, Frankie. If you get any more wound up, you’ll snap!” laughed Mum. “Chill out! Isn’t that what you say? What’s the matter with you anyway?”

  “I just don’t want you to get all frazzled because my friends are here,” I explained.

  “Frankie, I love your friends coming round and I am not an invalid,” Mum said firmly. “Now will you please just enjoy yourself. It’s like living with my mother, for goodness sake!”

  We both laughed, and I felt much better.

  Suddenly there was a knock at the door. It was Fliss.

  “Hiya Frankie, hello Mrs Thomas,” she said, thrusting a bag towards us. “Mum says that ginger’s very good for morning sickness and she sent you this.” Mum took a bottle of murky-coloured liquid out of the bag and looked kind of puzzled.