by Angie Bates
“Yeah, right,” said Rosie miserably. “You are kidding.”
“Try it on.” I said. “See for yourself.”
“Tiff will be up there titivating for ages,” grinned Kenny.
“All right,” said Rosie suddenly. “I will. So there!”
She whipped off her sweater and jeans. Fliss lifted down Tiff’s dress and handed it to her, giggling. Rosie slipped it over her head. Then she climbed on to a chair to look in the mirror. The dress was miles too big, but when Rosie saw herself, she beamed with surprise. She looked lovely. Well, except for her woolly socks!
“Take them off, dumbo,” giggled Fliss.
I waved a pretend wand. “Beautiful Cinders, you shall go to the ball!”
Then I went a bit crazy. I grabbed Rosie’s mum’s hat from the hall and danced around in it. Fliss picked Morgan up and danced her round too. Soon everyone was whirling round the room.
Sometimes Rosie has the worst luck. One minute she was dancing happily. Then she caught her foot and went flying. She landed on her bottom. Guess what she landed in?
Fliss’s messy, chocolatey plate.
And she’d got chocolate all over Tiff’s new dress!
“Take it off, quick!” Fliss told her. “We’ll get a cloth.”
Rosie scrambled into her jeans. The rest of us rushed the dress into the kitchen and sponged away with Vanish. But the stain didn’t. Vanish, I mean.
“It’s only on the back,” I said, trying to cheer Rosie up.
“Yeah, if you hang it up, she won’t notice,” said Kenny.
“Take it to the cleaners,” said Fliss. “They do a same-day service. You can pick it up before Tiff gets home from the Happy Shopper.”
“But how do I GET there?” wailed Rosie.
“We’ll figure something out,” I promised. But I felt really bad for her.
Fliss gave me the baby and helped Kenny put the dress back. I rocked Morgan absentmindedly. She snuggled up like a sleepy little bear and started yawning. Hey, I thought. I’m good at this!
“There,” said Kenny. “Tiff won’t suspect a thing.”
The doorbell went.
“You let Spud in, Frankie,” Rosie pleaded. “He’ll see I’ve been crying.”
It seems stoopid now, but I truly didn’t twig who was on Rosie’s step. I did think Spud looked kind of taller. But I put it down to the weird glass in Rosie’s front door. Anyway, I was having trouble with the security chain. Plus Rosie’s mum’s hat kept sliding over my eyes. But I finally got the door open. And there… was… JUICE!
I gawped long enough to notice he had a photographer and two massive bodyguards with him. Then I slammed the door in his face in a total panic. We hadn’t won the CDs and the baseball cap after all. We’d won Juice!!!
The door bell went again. This time Juice kept his finger there.
“Let him in, you idiots!” shrieked Tiff.
The others came to see what was taking me so long.
“Why did you slam the door on Spud?” Rosie asked, bewildered.
“I didn’t,” I hissed. “It’s Juice.”
“Yeah, right,” grinned Kenny. “Nice try, Frankie.”
“It is! It’s him!” squeaked Fliss. “I’m going to faint!”
“But I want those CDs for Tiff,” wailed Rosie.
I was hopping from foot to foot. “But what are we going to DO?”
“Make him his stupid cup of tea,” suggested Kenny. “Then he’ll go away.”
I opened the door again, faking a smile. “Hiya. So we won! Wow!”
“Hiya, everyone,” said Rosie feebly. “Come in.”
“Frankie didn’t mean to shut the door earlier. She was just overwhelmed,” Kenny explained. “She’s never met a pop singer before.”
Juice gave a lazy smile. “That’s OK. It’s a kind of weird situation.”
Oops! Hang on a tick. I’m putting this story on hold, so I can give you vital background info.
The truth is, I was seriously churned up at this point. You guessed Kenny was fibbing her face off to get me out of a sticky situation, didn’t you? Excellent! I think I told you before, that I used to know Juice, in his Julian Whately life? Now there’s no way he’d ever remember me, OK?
But unfortunately, his mum told my mum all kinds of highly embarrassing stories about him. Stories I’m sure Juice would much rather not remember.
You see, in his Julian days Juice was not remotely cool. In fact, he was so incredibly sad and weedy, he was constantly being bullied at school. And one day, after gym, some really stoo-pid boys deliberately stole his trousers.
Can you believe that poor old Julian/Juice had to walk down the school corridor to the secretary’s office in this absolutely ancient pair of Dr Who boxer shorts, with all the other kids laughing themselves sick?
Now, I’m not very proud of this, OK, but one day Juice’s name came up in conversation, and I found myself splurting out this tasty bit of goss to everyone. Then I totally forgot about it till now.
So when Juice turned up on Rosie’s doorstep, I was just about going into orbit, in case the others cracked up laughing right in front of him.
But they didn’t. And I didn’t. And you wouldn’t have either!
Because believe me, when you see Juice in person, you wouldn’t connect him in a million years with that picked-on kid in tatty Dr Who undies.
Why? Because he’s an absolute BABE!
I mean, obviously Juice has been hitting the spinach lately, because he’s got actual muscles now. But more than that, he’s just totally cool and laid back and, well, definitely CUTE!!!
We were all so gobsmacked, we stood around like waxworks, not knowing what to do next. Finally Rosie said, “Do I make just Juice a cup of tea, or shall I make some for everyone?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said one of the bodyguards chirpily.
“Two sugars, thanks,” said the other one.
“Diet Coke,” said Juice. “No ice.”
We took him into the living room and Juice threw himself on the sofa. “Nice baby,” he said. “My sister’s got a kid about the same age.”
“Which of you little girls is the lucky winner?” asked the photographer.
Don’t you absolutely HATE it when grown-ups treat you as if you’ve only got half a brain cell? So does Kenny.
“All of us won,” she scowled.
“Yeah,” said Lyndz. “The entire Sleepover Club.”
Juice then made us tell him about our club. He was really interested. We were just explaining what you do at sleepovers when Rosie came back with the drinks.
Morgan was moaning again. It’s probably not too easy to get to sleep, with the whole Sleepover Club, a pop singer, one photographer and two bodyguards in your room. Plus there was something else bothering her, but we didn’t find that out till later.
“Is the little baby sleeping over too?” asked the photographer, in his ‘let’s humour the kiddies’ tone.
Kenny rolled her eyes. “As if.”
Juice swung Morgan up on to his knee. He looked a bit amazed when he clocked her modern-art sleepsuit. “Man, you should audition for Persil,” he told her.
We giggled. And I don’t know how it happened, but somehow we ended up telling Juice about Spud’s cake and how we’d wanted the CDs for Tiff.
Juice wasn’t a bit offended. He fell about laughing. “I’d better get those CDs to your sister, FAST.”
“That would be brilliant!” Rosie’s face lit up.
“Can we just have that photograph, everyone?” asked the photographer. I think he felt quite left out. He made us squeeze on to the sofa with Juice and do cheesy smiles. But his flashbulb wouldn’t work.
So Fliss told Juice about Morgan singing along to Forever Love. “Will you sing it for us now?” she asked, going bright red.
The rest of us were dead embarrassed. But Juice just started singing, right there on Rosie’s sofa. It was so-o-o sweet. Morgan gazed at him with total adoration. So did Fliss. (Su
rprise, surprise!)
I think that’s when the photographer snapped the picture. But I didn’t actually notice a flash. You see, I’d seen a funny expression flicker across Morgan’s face. And I was just going to tell Juice to stop jiggling her about, but before I got the chance, she gave a worried little cry. Then she did it.
Morgan sicked up her milk, mashed banana, toast, jam and stolen chocolate cake all over her and Juice.
Juice jumped to his feet, totally shocked. His bodyguards had already dived out of the way. (Bodyguards have excellent reflexes.)
Then Morgan gave a lopsided grin. I suppose she was feeling heaps better now. And in a clear little voice, she said, “Cool.”
It didn’t really seem like the right moment to tell Morgan how clever she was.
“Will you take her, Frankie?” said Juice politely. “I’d better get some clean clothes. We’re doing a gig at some university tonight.”
I know it’s really wimpy, but I’m not wild about touching people with sick on them. “Fliss?” I said hopefully.
“Ask Kenny,” said Fliss. “I did the nappy.”
“No way,” growled Kenny.
“Lyndz?”
Lyndz shook her head. “Uh-uh.”
Things weren’t looking too bright. Then who do you think came dashing downstairs, all pretty and glowing from her shower?
You’ve got to hand it to Tiffany Cartwright. Give her a real crisis – sisters fainting in the supermarket, or unexpectedly finding her favourite pop singer covered in baby sick – and she’s a total star.
She didn’t let herself down by staring at Juice adoringly. She didn’t squeak or squeal. She didn’t even, like, glance in the mirror to check her hair looked OK.
There was just a split second when she froze halfway down the stairs. But it was just a weensy split second. And we were the only ones who noticed.
Tiff whisked Morgan out of Juice’s arms. “Perhaps you’d like to use our bathroom to freshen up, Juice,” she said, as if she talked to pop stars every day. “Upstairs, second on the left. Towels in the airing cupboard.”
“Thanks,” said Juice bravely. His bodyguards bounded after him. I think they were quite scared of Tiff.
“I’ll see myself out, girls,” said the photographer.
Then came the moment we were dreading.
“As for you,” Tiff said, giving us the evil eye as she carefully peeled Morgan’s sleepsuit off, “you’ve got some serious explaining to do.”
Luckily, the baby went into a major screaming fit. Tiffany paced the room, patting Morgan’s back, looking stressed out. Like she was the one who’d been babysitting all night!!
Juice and his bodyguards thundered back downstairs. Poor Juice. His clothes were ruined.
“Later, girls, yeah?” he said, climbing into his awesome car, and they zoomed away down Rosie’s street.
Tiff took Morgan upstairs and for a few minutes the baby’s howls were muffled by the sound of running water.
“It’s not fair,” said Rosie miserably. “Why did Morgan have to throw up? Juice will never send Tiff those CDs now. I’m in so-o much trouble. Tiff’s mad NOW, and she doesn’t know about her dress yet.”
“Or about Spud’s cake,” Lyndz pointed out.
“Thanks for reminding us,” said Kenny.
The door bell went again. It really was Spud this time. But before he could get in the door, Tiff came downstairs, out of breath and sopping wet, with a screaming baby under her arm. You’d think she’d been on the giant flume at Alton Towers, not bathing some little kid!
One problem with Spud is he’s not big on timing. “Hiya Tiff,” he beamed. “Where’s my cake? I’m starving.”
“Not now, Spud,” said Tiff fiercely. “I’ve got my hands full!” And she shut the door in his face. After all we’d gone through for her! We were in total shock!!
Tiffany dressed Morgan in her clean sleepsuit. I think Morgan knew Tiff was in a bad mood. She threw herself around, bellowing at the top of her lungs.
“What a nightmare,” groaned Tiff. “The Quormbys will be back soon. I thought Morgan was supposed to sleep through the night.”
I held out my arms. “Shall I take her?” I said.
Looking a bit doubtful, Tiff handed Morgan over. And guess what! Morgan snuggled up like a kitten and fell fast asleep. Don’t tell the others, but I think I’m a totally magic babysitter, don’t you?
But Tiff was looking panicky. “Quick, put her in her cot. Someone’s coming.” She was practically wetting herself! But the footsteps went on past.
I tucked Morgan into her cot. “Night night,” I said. “Mind the bugs don’t bite.” We tiptoed out.
“Have you girls any idea what Morgan’s been eating?” said Tiff. “Some of those stains looked just like chocolate.”
We all stared at the floor. But instead of having a go at us, Tiff said, “You girls had better go to bed before Mum gets back. I’ll tidy up down here.”
“Heh heh heh! We’re off the hook, my hearties,” hissed Kenny. We charged upstairs. Almost made it too.
Then Tiff called, “Rosie, what was Juice doing here?”
“Uh-oh,” whispered Lyndz.
“Oh,” said Rosie. She gulped. “That was just a mistake.”
“A famous pop singer came to our house, by mistake?”
“We sort of won him. In a radio phone-in,” said poor Rosie. “We were trying to win the CDs. For you.”
“Why?” said Tiff suspiciously.
It’s weird. Rosie Cartwright can hold out on her friends for hours. But when it comes to her family, Rosie’s what my gran calls “an open book”. Rosie took a really big breath. Uh-oh, I thought.
“If you want to know, we ate most of Spud’s cake,” she yelled. “I was mad with you for making us do your babysitting, OK!”
Then Rosie marched into her room. We went in after her. But we didn’t know what to say, so we started getting ready for bed.
A few minutes later, we heard footsteps coming up the path. A key turned in the lock.
“No, she was a little angel,” we heard Tiff say brightly. “But she dribbled some of her milk on her sleepsuit, so I put it in the wash.” Then we couldn’t hear any more.
“Oooh, liar liar! Tiffany’s pants are on fire,” giggled Lyndz.
“Sssh. Rosie’s mum will be up in a minute,” I hissed.
We scrambled into our night things. I don’t know if you remember, but Rosie’s the only girl in the Sleepover Club who’s got her own double bed. Cool or what! The first time we slept over, we all piled in, but it was too much of a squash! Now we toss for it, to see who sleeps on the floor. It was Kenny and Lyndz. Yippee!
We dived into our sleeping bags, seconds before Rosie’s mum opened the door. “Having fun, everyone?” she asked.
“Yes!” we chorused. She put out the light and closed the door. We heard her go back downstairs. This is our favourite sleepover moment, when we switch on our torches and have our feast. Well, four of us switched our torches on. But Rosie stayed where she was with the covers over her head. She’d been really quiet since she yelled at Tiff. Then the bed started shaking with sobs. I patted her shoulder.
“Don’t cry, Rosie,” I said.
Rosie rolled over and switched on her torch. “I’m not, you moron. I’m laughing!”
I felt such an idiot!
“Just wait,” Rosie shrieked, “till we tell the M&Ms that Juice came to our sleepover!”
Kenny cracked up. “They’ll chew the carpet!”
“Froth at the mouth,” spluttered Fliss.
“Spit nails,” I giggled.
Lyndz hugged herself. “They’ll NEVER forgive us.”
“They’ll NEVER believe us either,” I pointed out.
“Who cares! It’s definitely one – nil to the Sleepover Club,” Lyndz said.
Kenny punched the air. “One-nil! More like FIVE!”
“Sssh! I’m writing in my diary,” said Fliss. She scribbled away, while we finish
ed up the bubble stuff in the sword. Bubbles look incredibly spooky by torchlight.
“Want to hear?” Fliss said at last. She started reading aloud. “It’s been the most hectic sleepover ever. We had to babysit for a cool baby called Morgan. My best thing was when Juice came to Rosie’s house and sang Forever Love. My worst was when Rosie sat in my plate and got chocolate on Tiff’s dress.”
Then Fliss looked up and gave a little gasp.
Tiffany had come in very softly, so no one noticed. She didn’t yell at us though. She just dumped a bowl of popcorn in the middle of Rosie’s floor.
“Enjoy,” she said. We stared at her nervously.
Kenny sniffed the bowl like a tracker dog. “It’s not poisoned, is it?”
Tiff laughed. “Brownie’s honour!”
“But I spoilt your dress!” cried Rosie.
“Thanks, but I’d figured that out for myself,” said Tiff calmly. “It’s OK. I’ll take it to the dry cleaners on Monday.”
Tiff was being so nice to us, I felt terrible. I’d have gone ballistic if it was my dress, wouldn’t you?
“We’ll chip in,” I said. “Rosie didn’t want to try it on, you know. We made her.”
Tiff took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t blame you for wanting to pay me back. I was totally out of order,” she said. “You could have dropped me in it. But you didn’t. Let’s call it quits.”
“All RIGHT!” we said, at exactly the same moment. Then we said, “Jinx!” and fell about laughing.
Tiff closed the door while we were still giggling.
“Let’s have our feast, before I fall asleep,” yawned Kenny.
As well as the popcorn, we had snowballs, rainbow drops, Pringles and those licorice wands with fizzy sherbet inside them. You wouldn’t believe how hungry you get babysitting!
“We earned this,” said Lyndz, through her mouthful of snowball.
“Yeah,” I said. “All’s well that ends well.”
But it wasn’t over. Nothing like…
Slow down a bit! We’re almost there, and I’ve got a question for you! How come Juice is so good-looking now he’s famous?!!
I think that’s one reason why Tiff let us off the hook. She thought it was really cool meeting Juice. Spud was dead jealous when he found out. He won’t forget their anniversary again in a hurry!