Sleepover Girls Go Karting
by Narinder Dhami

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Have you been invited to all these sleepovers?

Sleepover Kit List

Copyright

About the Publisher

“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t we glue all the Watson-Wades’ windows and doors shut so they can’t get out? Or we could parachute on to their roof, and drop stinkbombs down the chimney. Or we could dress up in white sheets and haunt them?”

Frankie grinned, and poked me in the ribs with her elbow. “You’re always so full of good ideas, Kenny!” she said.

“You know me,” I said modestly. “If you want a good idea, I’m the main man!”

“Yeah, wasn’t it your idea to try and decorate my bedroom?” Rosie said thoughtfully “We got banned from having any more sleepovers for a while after that.”

“And it was your idea to have that stupid bet with the M&Ms when we went to Disneyland, Paris,” Fliss chimed in. “We nearly got trashed by our worst enemies!”

“Never mind, Kenny,” Lyndz said kindly. “You do have really good idea sometimes…”

Aah, that’s Lyndz all over. She wants to be nice to everybody.

“… It’s just that I can’t think of any at the moment!” she finished.

Yep, these guys are my best mates! With friends like these, who needs enemies? Only kidding. Our real enemies are the snotty old M&Ms, but you probably already know all about them, and they’re not in this story anyway, so we can forget all about them (hurrah!).

Anyway, let’s get on with it! I’ve got this really coo-ell story to tell you all about what we did at half-term. You’ll never believe what happened. We had a fab time and—

Hang on a minute. What do you mean, you don’t know who we are? You mean to say there’s at least one person in the world who hasn’t heard of the mega-fantastic, ultra-cool, completely class Sleepover Club???

Oh. Apparently there is one person who’s never heard of us. OK, for that person’s benefit, here’s the rundown. I suppose you can sort of guess why we’re called the Sleepover Club, can’t you? ’Cos we sleep over at each other’s houses, of course – duh! There’s me, Kenny (or you can call me Laura if you really want to wind me up), Frankie, Rosie, Lyndz and Fliss. You’ll figure us all out as we go along, I expect.

Anyway, it was half-term, and we were sitting in the Proudloves’ garden. That’s Fliss’s family, if you didn’t know. She used to be called Sidebotham, poor thing – but now her mum’s remarried, thank goodness! We were having a sleepover at Fliss’s that night. Mind you, we’d be lucky if we got any sleep. Fliss’s mum has just had twins called Joe and Hannah, and they cry a lot. That’s why the Proudloves’ neighbours, the Watson-Wades (or the Grumpies, as we call them) had been moaning. Mrs Proudlove was really getting ratty about it, which was winding Fliss up – and when Fliss is wound up, the rest of the Sleepover Club really know about it! So I was trying to think how we could get our revenge.

“We could climb over the fence and steal their fish!” I suggested with an evil grin. “That’d really annoy them.”

We all looked over into the Grumpies’ garden. They had a really posh pond with gold and silver fish in it, and lots of plants around the edge. I don’t know if you remember because it was ages ago, but when we had a sleepover at Fliss’s once, we burnt a whole load of toast and chucked it over the fence into the Watson-Wades’ pond to get rid of it! They were not pleased.

“And what would we do with the poor old fish?” Frankie asked. “And don’t say ‘eat them’!”

Frankie’s a veggie, remember?

“We’d be doing them a favour,” I pointed out. “We’d be saving them from the Watson-Wades!”

“Honestly, they’re so grumpy, it just isn’t true,” Fliss groaned.

“Who, the fish?” I joked. “They seem pretty laid back to me, just swimming around there!”

“Oh, ha ha, Kenny, very funny.” Fliss gave me a shove. “No, the Watson-Wades, of course. They moan all the time!”

“Yeah, it’s a real pain.” I winked at the others, who grinned. Fliss can moan for England herself if she puts her mind to it!

“I mean, babies cry,” Fliss went on. “That’s what they do!”

“And wet their nappies,” Frankie added.

“And worse!” Lyndz said. She should know – she’s got two baby brothers.

“Haven’t the Grumpies got a baby of their own anyway?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Fliss put on this really snooty voice. “Bruno Watson-Wade!”

“Your mum should go round and complain when he makes a noise, Fliss,” Frankie suggested.

“Boring, Francesca Thomas!” I snorted. Frankie’s far too sensible – well, some of the time. “I still think we should dress up and haunt them. That’d soon shut them up!”

“The Grumpies must be pretty weedy if they moan about the sound of a couple of babies crying,” Rosie remarked. “It can’t be that bad.”

Right on cue, one of the twins started crying inside the house. A few seconds later the other one joined in. They were both yelling at the top of their lungs, and it sounded like ten cats screeching their heads off at the same time. It was pretty deafening.

“See?” Fliss yelled over the racket. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“NO!” we all shouted back. I dunno about the others, but I was dying to put my hands over my ears!

Fliss’s mum appeared at the French windows.

“Fliss!” she yelled. “Could you come in and keep an eye on the pasta, while I see to the twins?”

“All right, Mum!” Fliss yelled back. So we all trooped inside and into the kitchen, where the spaghetti was boiling away on the cooker. Luckily, after a few minutes the screaming stopped.

“We can play with the babies after tea if you like,” Fliss offered.

“Yeah, good idea,” Rosie said eagerly. Frankie, Lyndz and me didn’t look that keen, though. Rosie hasn’t got any babies at home, that’s why she’s so up for it. But Frankie and Lyndz both have, and as for me, I’m just not that that interested. I only like people who can talk, and are toilet-trained.

“So what are we going to do with the rest of this half-term, then?” Frankie asked, taking charge as usual.

Everyone looked at each other.

“Have a couple more sleepovers,” Lyndz suggested. We’re not allowed to have sleepovers during the week in term-time, so we were making the most of the holiday by packing in as many as possible.

“Yes, but what else?” I asked impatiently. “I wanna do something exciting. Something interesting. Something I’ve never, ever done before…”

“Be sensible?” Rosie said, deadpan.

The others fell about. Rosie’s jokes can sometimes really get you where it hurts!

Right at that moment we heard the sound of the front door slam, and a few moments later Andy came into the kitchen. He’s not Fliss’s real dad, but he’s OK. Andy’s a plasterer and he’d just got in from work, so he was still in his dusty overalls.

“Hi, girls,” he said, going over to the fridge. “I don’t suppose any of you are interested in karting?”

I didn’t think I’d heard him right, so I just stared at him. So did all the others.

“What did you say, Andy?” Fliss asked.

“I said, are any of you interested in karting?” Andy took a can of beer out of the fridge, and popped it open.

“What, in a horse and cart?” Rosie asked, looking confused.

“No, you twit!” Frankie said. “He means go-karting.”

Andy nodded. “Yeah, go-karting.” He looked round at us. “So, are you interested?”

“You bet,” I said eagerly. “I can just see myself burning rubber like Michael Shoemaker or whatever his name is!”

“Schumacher,” Frankie corrected me. “Sounds like a laugh!”

“I’ve never done it before, but I’ll give it a go,” Lyndz said.

“Me too,” Rosie agreed.

“Don’t you have to wear a safety helmet?” Fliss asked anxiously. “It might ruin my hair!”

The rest of us groaned.

“Come on, Fliss, get a life,” I ordered. “Stop being so girly!”

“Oh, all right,” Fliss retorted. “Anyway, isn’t karting expensive?”

“Yeah, it is,” Andy agreed, “if you haven’t got free passes!” And he pulled five green tickets out of his pocket and held them up. “Here we are – five free three-day passes to the brand-new Silver Streak karting centre, starting tomorrow.”

Our eyes nearly popped out of our heads.

“Three days of karting – brilliant!” Frankie gasped.

“Do you think we’ll have races?” Lyndz asked.

“And do you think we’ll need any special clothes?” Rosie chimed in.

“I hope my kart’s pink.” That was Fliss, of course!

“Cool!” I exclaimed, grabbing one of the passes and studying it. “Where did you get them from, Andy?”

Andy grinned. “I’m doing some plastering for a Mr Stevens at the moment,” he explained. “He’s got a big house in the country, and pots of money. He owns the karting centre, and he offered me the passes. The centre’s only been open a few days, and I think he’s a bit worried no-one’s going to turn up!”

Just then Mrs Proudlove bustled into the kitchen with a baby in each arm.

“Andy, Joe and Hannah both need changing,” she said, looking harassed. “Can you give me a hand?’

“I think this is where the Sleepover Club disappears!” I muttered to Frankie, and we all legged it into the living room.

“And it’s Kenny in the blue kart who takes the lead,” I announced, as I swerved ahead of Rosie, and elbowed her out of the doorway. “And it’s Kenny who’s first into the living room, and first into the comfy chair!” I sat down in the armchair, and grinned at the others. “I’m gonna blow you all off the track tomorrow!”

“Knowing you, you’ll probably crash into something!” Fliss sniffed.

“Or turn your kart over,” Frankie added.

“Hey, I wonder if you can do stunts in those karts?” I said eagerly. “Maybe I’ll be able to do a wheelie or something.”

“If you do, you’ll be wheelie lucky!” Frankie joked, and the rest of us bombarded her with cushions.

“I’ll get my mum to take us tomorrow,” I offered. “She’s not doing anything. Well, even if she is, I’ll get round her somehow.”

“I hope they show us how to drive the karts,” Fliss said anxiously. “I’ve never been in one before.”

“Oh, it’ll be cool!” I assured her. “It’ll be just like driving a dodgem car at the fair.”

“Oh yeah?” said Lyndz. “Remember last time we were on the dodgem cars?”

“That was an accident,” I said with dignity. “I didn’t mean to hit that other car so hard that the little boy lost his toffee apple.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think that woman who got it in the face was very pleased,” Frankie pointed out.

“You’re just jealous of me because I’m the best driver!” I boasted. “You wait and see!”

“And Mrs McKenzie’s right at the back of the queue!” I was pretending I was talking into an imaginary microphone, and the others, who were squashed into the back of the car, were laughing their heads off. “If she doesn’t put her foot down and spin some wheels, we won’t even make it to the karting centre before it closes!”

“And if Laura McKenzie doesn’t shut up,” my mum replied calmly, as she stopped at some traffic lights, “she won’t even make it to the karting centre, full stop.”

“Oh, come on, Mum,” I pleaded. “Can’t you go a bit faster? You’ve got no chance of winning a Grand Prix!”

“I can see you’re going to be a great driver, Kenny,” my mum said sarcastically as we drove out of Cuddington. “If you come home in one piece, I’ll be surprised!”

“Don’t worry, Mrs McKenzie,” Rosie chimed in. “We can carry Kenny back to the car if we have to!”

“Listen, you lot, it takes skill to drive a kart,” I snorted. “And I’ve got plenty of it!”

Secretly, I didn’t have a clue what driving a kart involved – but I wasn’t going to tell the others that. After all, how hard could it be?

“I’m not looking forward to wearing a helmet,” Fliss moaned. “I bet it won’t go with my new jumper!”

“Oh, give it up, Flissy,” I retorted. “It won’t matter anyway – we have to wear race suits over our clothes.”

“What are those?” Lyndz asked.

“These kind of all-in-one overall things,” I said airily. My dad had bought a computer last month, and I’d done a bit of research into karting on the Net the night before.

“Well, I hope mine’s pink!” Fliss said, and everyone groaned.

“I think we have to wear gloves too,” Frankie added, winking at me. “You’re not the only one who went on the Net last night, Kenny!”

The karting centre was about fifteen miles from Cuddington. None of us quite knew what to expect, so when we arrived at the Silver Streak about twenty minutes later, we could hardly believe our eyes.

“Is that it?” Fliss gasped.

“It’s huge!” Rosie murmured, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

It was massive. The building was shaped a bit like a big dome, and there was a large carpark outside, which already had quite a few cars parked in it.

Silver Streak Karting Centre

“Look!” Lyndz pointed at the big sign, as we drove into the carpark. “It says there’s an adults’ track, and a separate track for the under-elevens.”

“Come on, Mum!” I yelled, bouncing up and down in my seat. I was getting well excited by now. “Put your foot down, and grab that empty parking space before that Mercedes gets it!”

“Oh, really, Kenny!” my mum said sternly. She reversed neatly into the empty space, just ahead of the Mercedes, and I cheered loudly. “I dread to think what you’re going to be like what you get on to that karting track.”

“Yeah, Kenny, haven’t you heard of road rage?” Fliss said.

“Or in this case, track rage!” Frankie grinned.

“Yeah, you lot had better stay out of my way,” I said, climbing out of the car. “If we have a race, I’m out to win!”

Frankie turned to Fliss.

“I bet you 50p Kenny crashes her kart,” she said confidently, holding out her hand. “Shake on it?”

“No, thanks,” Fliss retorted. “I can’t afford to lose 50p!”

“What a cheek!” I grumbled, as we went over to the entrance. “I’m going to be the fastest out of you lot.”

“I reckon Frankie will be a good driver,” Lyndz said. “She was the only one who didn’t get bumped when we went on the dodgems.”

“I think Fliss could be quite good,” Frankie remarked, “if she stops worrying about her hairdo for five minutes!”

“Well, I reckon Lyndz is going to be the best,” Rosie added. “She’s always good at things like this.”

“Mum, have you got those free passes?” I asked impatiently, as we went up to the ticket office.

My mum stared at me. “No, I thought Fliss gave them to you.”

“What!” I howled. “She did – but then I thought I gave them to you to look after! Oh no, that means we’ll have to go back home for them—”

“Oh, wait a minute.” My mum grinned at me, and then pulled them out of her handbag. “Here they are.”

I glared at her while the others roared.

“Looks like you’re not the only queen of the wind-up, Kenny!” Frankie spluttered.

“Oh, very funny, Mum!” I said crossly, as we went into the arena. Then I stopped and stared round. “Wow! Hey, you guys, look at this!”

There were karts hurtling round the tracks, right before our eyes. The track close to us was the kids’ one, and the adults’ track was on the other side of the building. The tracks weren’t just straight and flat, they had lots of bends as well as ramps leading up to bridges. They were surrounded by these banks, which must have been there to stop the karts coming off. There were men in overalls with flags, standing at the side watching everything that was going on – I think they were the race marshalls. The noise was pretty loud, but it looked incredibly exciting. I couldn’t wait to be out there doing exactly the same thing!

“Look, there’s a café and a restaurant as well,” Lyndz said as we made our way further into the arena.

“And somewhere for spectators,” Frankie added, pointing at a large, fenced-off area filled with seating.

“You’ll be able to sit there and watch us, Mum,” I said eagerly.

“Yes, and I’ve brought a book to read in case I get bored,” my mum replied.

“Bored!” I repeated, amazed. “How could anyone get bored watching the Sleepover Club go karting?”

Parents! Don’t you just love ’em?

“Well, I’ll try not to,” my mum said with a grin. “I’m off to have a cup of tea in the café. The girl at the ticket office said you’re to wait here, and someone will be along to get you kitted up and give you some driving instruction before you’re allowed out on the track.”

Fliss was looking a bit sick as my mum went off.

“Those karts go really fast, don’t they?” she muttered. “What if I can’t keep up?”

“And look, this is only a practice session,” Lyndz pointed out, glancing up. An illuminated board above our heads was flashing the words Practice Session at us. “It’s not even a race.”

“Don’t worry, Flissy,” I said. “I’ll just give you a bit of a bump up the backside with my kart!”

“Don’t you dare, Kenny!” Fliss squealed.

“Yeah, Kenny, this isn’t the dodgem cars now,” Frankie chimed in.

“You’ll probably get thrown off the track if you do something like that,” Rosie added.

We stood there watching the karts zoom round the track. There were eight of them going round, and there was one which was always at the front. It looked very different from the other karts, which were red, blue, green and white. This kart was black with gold flashes on it, and the driver was wearing a black race suit and a black helmet with gold writing on the front, which read King of the Track.

I nudged Frankie.

“Seen that one?” I pointed it out. “Bit flash, isn’t it?”

Frankie nodded. “I wonder who it is?”

Just then one of the race marshalls jumped out and waved a chequered flag. The karts started pulling off the track into the pit stop, the black and gold one at the front.

“Come on,” I said to the others. “Let’s go and have a nose!”

We went over to the side of the track, and hung around watching what was going on. Mr King of the Track got out of his kart, and took his helmet off. He was about our age. He had dark hair, and the name Josh was embroidered on his black race suit in gold. I dunno why, but he looked really steaming mad!

“Hey, you!” He was glaring at another boy, who was just getting out of his kart. “Don’t you know the rules? You’re not supposed to race during a practice session!”

“I only tried to overtake you because you cut me up,” the other boy retorted. “You were swinging about all over the place.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Josh snapped. “My dad owns this track, and I can get you banned from it any time I like!”

The other boy didn’t say anything this time, he just stormed off. Meanwhile, our eyes were out on stalks.

“What a bighead!” I whispered to Frankie. “I’m surprised he can find a helmet to fit him!”

“Yeah, he really thinks he’s something else, doesn’t he?” she said, looking disgusted.

Fliss was looking worried. “I hope we don’t have to race against him,” she muttered.

“Look, he’s having a go at someone else now,” Rosie hissed.

“You’re never going to be a good driver if you don’t take risks, Alex,” Josh was explaining in this snooty voice to one of the other drivers, a weedy-looking boy with red hair. “You’ve got to try and improve your cornering.”

“I know,” Alex said. “But it won’t make much difference – your kart’s so much faster than anyone else’s.”

A smug smile spread across Josh’s already-smug face. “I know,” he replied.

“Urgh!” I rolled my eyes at the others. “Pass me the sickbag, someone – and make it a giant-sized one!”

“Hi, girls.” Josh had just noticed us all staring, and was looking down his nose at us. “Like the kart? It’s mine, not the centre’s. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“We’re not looking at your kart – we’re looking at you and wondering why you’re such an annoying twit!” is what I wanted to say, but I didn’t because Frankie kicked my ankle as soon as I opened my mouth. What I actually said was “Ow!”

“I’m Josh Stevens,” Josh went on. “My dad owns this karting centre. And these are my two mates, Alex and Robin.”

Robin was another weedy-looking kid with blond hair and specs. It was obvious that Josh my dad owns this karting centre Stevens liked having mates he could boss around, because they were both standing there looking up at him as if he was the best thing since sliced bread.

“So, girls.” Josh said the word girls in a way that made me want to punch him on the nose. “Have you been karting before?”

I was dying to say that I was the World Under-Eleven Karting Champion, but I knew that would be a mistake. So I just said, “No.”

“Oh, right.” Josh grinned at us in this really annoying way. “Just take it slowly, and you’ll be OK. It’s not a sport for girls, really, anyway.”

I clenched my fists. “Why not?”

“Kenny!” Frankie hissed in my ear, but I took no notice. Meanwhile Rosie, Lyndz and Fliss had shuffled in closer to me, as if they thought they were going to have to hold me back from thumping the little creep. They were right!

“Well…” Josh shrugged his shoulders in this incredibly patronising way. “Everyone knows men are better at things like football and motor sport. Girls are better at things like netball and sewing!” He sniggered, and Alex and Robin sniggered too. “It’s the same with karting. It’s a man’s sport!”

“Oh?” I said. “And is it a sport for slimy little creeps, too?”

Josh’s mouth fell open, and his mates looked as if they were about to faint. “What did you say?”

“You heard me!” I snapped.

“And there are loads of girls here anyway,” Frankie added, glancing round the arena. “There’s no reason why girls can’t be as good at karting as boys.”

Josh looked down his nose at us. “That just goes to show you don’t know anything about karting!” he sneered. “I’ve been karting since I was five years old, and I’m an expert!” Then he looked alarmed and took a step backwards, as I took one forwards.

“We’ll see!” I said, eyeballing him grimly.

“You’ve got no chance!” Josh retorted, and then stalked off, with his two sheep – sorry, mates – hurrying along behind him.

I turned to the others.

“Right, that’s it!” I said firmly. “We’ve got to show Mr Creep that girls are as good as boys. We’re all going to be champion karters!”

OK, so the others moaned a bit, but they didn’t really mean it. They hated Josh as much as I did. We were all determined to show him that he was talking rubbish, and that girls could be brilliant karters too.

Well, that was before we were taken off to be given driving instruction by Mike, the race director. There was so much to remember, it was almost impossible! First of all Mike took the five of us, plus some other kids, over to the beginners’ area. There, we were given a number each, as well as safety helmets, gloves and race suits.

“Mine’s too big,” Fliss grumbled, as she rolled up her sleeves. “And it’s not pink either!” she added sadly.

“Good,” I retorted, as I struggled into my own race suit. “We don’t want that idiot Josh thinking we’re all weak and feeble girlies.”

“He was the pits, wasn’t he?” Frankie said. “Hey, guys, did you hear that? The pits – you know, the pit stop? That’s a karting joke for you!”

“It’s nowhere near a joke,” I said. “It’s not even funny! Look, we’ve got to show this creep just how wrong he is. So make sure you all listen up to Mike so you know what you’re doing, OK?”

Everyone agreed, and there were lots of woo hoo!s and high fives. But when we finally got started, it was a different matter. Like I said, there was just so much to remember.

First of all, Mike showed us some of the karts. We all had the chance to sit in one and test out the pedals without actually moving.

“Now, unlike a proper car, there are only two pedals to worry about and no gears,”

Mike explained, pointing them out. “This is the brake, and that’s the accelerator.”

“I hope I don’t mix them up!” Fliss whispered to me anxiously.

So did I. I could just see Fliss trying to brake, and going smack into the kart in front, headfirst. Josh Stevens would laugh himself silly!

Fliss looked even more worried when Mike explained that the karts could go up to thirty miles an hour. He told us that the steering wheel didn’t turn very far, but turning it just a little had a big effect on how the kart moved. He also said that it was important to keep accelerating and not to slow down, as it was difficult to build up speed again. That made Fliss look even greener – I don’t think she was looking forward to going fast at all!

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