Have you been invited to
all these sleepovers?

The Sleepover Club Best Friends

The Sleepover Club TV Stars

The Sleepover Club Dance-off!

The Sleepover Club Hit the Beach!

The Sleepover Club Pet Detectives

The Sleepover Club Hey Baby!

Coming soon…

The Sleepover Club Pony Passion

The Sleepover Club Trick or Treat

Angie Bates

Contents

Cover

Title Page

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Top Sleepover Tips

Frankie’s Top Tips for Nails

Rosie’s Peppermint Love Hearts

Rosie’s Chocolate Kisses

Have a babylicious sleepover with Frankie and Rosie’s top tunes…

Copyright

About the Publisher

Oh, hiya. No fooling you Sleepover fans, is there? Yes, it’s me, Frankie! Look, it’s great to meet you here, but please don’t tell anyone else you’ve seen me.

I’m serious. I’m keeping a low profile until this whole thing blows over. Why do you think I sneaked out of the house wearing dark glasses and this sad saggy old hat?

Lucky for me Grandpa Joe left his fishing hat behind last time he stayed. Yeah, yeah, I know; it’s not the coolest head-gear in the world. For one thing, it smells like mouldy mushrooms. But it’s brilliant for hiding my hair. Especially with my collar turned up.

I’ve got masses of the stuff. Hair, I mean. Auntie Joan says I could stuff a mattress with it. I figured my hair was the real Frankie giveaway. Apart from my lanky legs, that is. But there’s nothing I can do about them, unless I disguise myself as a mermaid!

Anyway, I’m glad it was you, not the M&Ms who spotted me. Remember them? They’re sworn enemies of the Sleepover Club. Their real names are Emma Hughes and Emily Berryman. We call them the M&Ms for short. Neat, eh?

You see, on our last sleepover, quite by accident, we did something the M&Ms will NEVER forgive us for. And take it from me, they won’t give up till they’ve paid us back. Those girls are so spiteful it’s unreal.

Would you mind looking out for them, while I pull Grandpa’s hat down a teensy bit further? Don’t worry, they’re dead easy to recognise. Look out for two sinister figures without shadows. Just kidding! No, you nutcase, I’m not scared! But I don’t need any extra hassle. I’m still totally stressed out from our last sleepover.

OK, let’s just see if you remember all the Sleepover members. There’s a whole bunch of us: Laura McKenzie, otherwise known as Kenny. She’s been my best friend for ever. Then Fliss. (Her full name is Felicity Sidebotham, poor thing.) Lyndsey Collins – we call her Lyndz. And Rosie Cartwright; Rosie hasn’t lived in Cuddington very long.

And then there’s me! Francesca Theresa Thomas, Frankie for short. But you guessed that by yourself, didn’t you? I’ll have to get better at disguises, if I’m going to be a world-famous actress! It was my nail varnish that gave me away, right?

I’m crazy about silver. It’s the coolest colour in the universe. I’d paint my whole room silver if my parents would let me. Up till now they won’t even let me have silver curtains! And now Mum’s expecting a new baby, I can probably kiss goodbye to that space-age bedroom I’ve been hankering for. My parents are too busy buying cute little vests and booties.

Actually I’m over the moon about the baby. Being a lonely only is so-o bo-ring. But Mum’s pregnancy doesn’t mean I’m letting them off the hook. I don’t want them to think I’ve lost my touch! Besides, I think a totally silver room would be excellent, don’t you? Not as good as sleeping in a real space station, but still pretty cool. I could even camouflage my boring old bed to look like a space pod or something. Mind you, I’m not sure the other Sleepover members would approve. Especially Fliss. Her bedroom furniture looks exactly like that shiny stuff in department stores. It’s dead girly – like a Barbie catalogue. And her room’s so tidy, it’s scary!

Still, what can you expect from a Virgo? I’m an Aries, if you didn’t know. A natural born leader. Act first and think afterwards, that’s me.

Where was I? Oh yeah. I was explaining why I’m creeping round the village wearing this gruesome disguise.

Have you noticed how the things that seem totally mega-brilliant at the time, are the exact same things which make your parents go ballistic when they find out? Life’s so-o-o unfair.

Look, pop over to Rosie’s with me and I’ll tell you all the really juicy details of our sleepover as we go. (Private joke!) I could do with the company. Don’t tell the others, but I’ve got butterflies in my tummy.

You see, I promised Rosie I’d tell Mr and Mrs Quormby what really happened, and I can’t let her down, can I? I’m going to be someone’s big sister soon. I’ve got to practise being dead grown-up and sensible before he or she arrives.

Didn’t I explain about the Quormbys? They’re Rosie’s new neighbours. They’ve got this really cool baby called Morgan. Mr Quormby’s the grim silent type. Mrs Quormby’s OK, but she’s such a fusspot! Can you believe she’d never ever left her precious little Morgan with anyone before? Not even for five minutes!

Until last Friday that is…

No one believes us, but the whole thing started out as an incredibly kind deed. Two kind deeds, if you’re counting.

It began when Rosie’s big sister Tiff and her boyfriend Spud had a quarrel. We could tell Rosie was upset the minute she walked into the classroom. When Rosie’s upset, everyone knows about it. Of course, she won’t actually tell you what’s wrong for hours. Her star sign’s Cancer. Sensitive but secretive, that’s Rosie. She’s such hard work sometimes.

It took us nearly all lunchtime to drag it out of her. Then instead of just telling us like a normal person, she turned on the waterworks. And once she gets started, that girl could cry for England.

“Tiff and Spud broke up,” she choked. “I heard her sobbing through the wall. It was awful.”

“Poor Tiffany,” said Fliss, with that mushy look she gets if anyone even mentions boyfriends.

Tiff is Rosie’s big sister. She’s fifteen. Personally, I don’t think she’s that special. I mean, the way Rosie goes on you’d think she’s some kind of superstar. But when I pictured little Miss Perfect crying in the dark over some stoopid boy, I felt a bit upset myself. Even though I don’t like her. Weird, eh?

“What about Adam?” asked Lyndz. “He really likes Spud, doesn’t he?” Lyndz has a soft spot for Adam.

Rosie nodded miserably. “They talk about computers for hours.”

I yawned. Computers are cool, but talking about them is incredibly sad. I suppose it’s different for Adam, though. He’s got cerebral palsy and his computer helps him speak and everything.

“So of course Dad’s invited Adam to stay for the weekend,” Rosie moaned.

Rosie and Adam are great mates. But that doesn’t stop her getting all churned up about how their dad spends more time with her brother than he does with her. She’s got this huge chip about how everyone in her family leaves her out. She’s always on about it, so now I switch off as soon as she starts.

I tuned back in just as Rosie said, “So we can’t have the sleepover at my house after all. Mum says it’s not fair to Tiff.”

Now, nothing and no one interrupts Sleepover business, OK? Especially not Tiffany Cartwright’s love life. I did some quick thinking.

“Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened, Rosie,” I said cunningly. “Tell us everything. I mean, what did they fight about?”

Kenny saw how my mind was working.

“Yeah, Rosie,” she grinned. “We need inside info.”

Rosie blinked with surprise. We mostly shut her up when she goes on about her family!

“It’s obvious Tiff and Spud are in lurve,” I explained. “They just need a teensy bit of help. Then they’ll snap back together like… like… fridge magnets!”

Lyndz, Kenny and Fliss cracked up. Even Rosie gave a feeble grin.

I beamed. Crisis over. We’d get Tiff and Spud back together, no problem. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. And our sleepover could go ahead like we planned. YIPPEE!

Wait a tick. I’m stopping the story right here. Sto-op!!!

I’m not telling you another thing until you understand exactly why we hate the M&Ms so much. Because right now, you think we’re mean about them for no reason, don’t you? Admit it!

It’s not just because they smarm up to the teachers all the time, you know. And get top marks in everything. Even though that’s incredibly icky of them. No, we hate them because they’re spiteful little toads who try to ruin everything for us. Don’t believe me? OK, I’ll prove it to you!

Remember how I told you about Rosie blurting out that dead private stuff about Spud and Tiffany?

Can you believe those creepy girls were actually spying on us the whole time, soaking up every word?

Understand why we hate them now? Coo-ell! Then I’ll tell you the rest.

It’s really true about them spying. When we went into our classroom, Emma Hughes started dabbing her eyes, pretending to cry. “Oh Emily, isn’t it too sad about Tiffany and Spud?”

“Oh yes, Emma,” sniffled Emily. “I haven’t cried so much since my Gran’s budgie fell off its perch.”

“Tiffany’s so-o-o beautiful,” sighed Emma.

“And darling Spud is so-o-o hunky. Not!”

They made being-sick noises.

I thought Rosie was going to bop Emma one. She hasn’t had much practice dealing with the M&Ms and it shows. But don’t worry! Good ole Kenny was already on the case.

“Frankie,” she said in a chatty voice, “do you think those sad little androids will ever get, you know, a life?”

Honestly, I nearly kissed her. “I wish, Kenny,” I sighed. “They must be so-o-o bored.”

“Yeah,” Lyndz joined in. “Why else would they hang around us all the time, earwigging people’s private conversations?”

Emma Hughes’ mouth opened like a goldfish, but before she got a word out, Fliss started up.

“I’m sorry for them, aren’t you?” she said in a saintly voice. “They must feel really empty inside.” She put on a tragic face, but we knew she was dying to laugh. We all were.

Rosie finally caught on. “Do you think those poor girls secretly admire us?” she asked, all wide-eyed.

“Could be,” Kenny agreed. “They’ll be copying us next. Having sad little sleepovers with Alana Banana.”

You should have seen the M&Ms squirm! They kept making strangled noises but every time they tried to get a word in, one of us got in first. It was brilliant! But it got even better.

“Can’t you picture them in their frilly nighties?” I said.

“Drinking up their nice hot malted milk,” said Lyndz.

I did my Alana-the-android imitation. “Goodness me, Emma and Emily. Who could have dreamed that sleeping over would be this much fun. Is it nearly time for our exciting midnight feast yet?”

“It certainly is, Alana Banana. But do be careful not to get any nasty crumbs in Mummy’s sheets,” said Kenny, taking off Emma’s snooty voice.

I wish you’d seen their prune faces! They were as sick as parrots.

“We know how to have fun, thanks very much,” shrieked Emma Hughes.

Emily Berryman tossed her hair. “Yeah,” she said. “We don’t need you losers to show us, do we, Alana?”

“No way,” echoed Alana, their creepy slave. And honestly she sounded exactly like a sad little robot. That did it. We laughed till we cried.

Our teacher, Miss Weaver, came in just then. “You seem to be having fun,” she said cheerfully. She couldn’t understand why me, Kenny and the others fell about.

Kenny poked me in the back. “Was that a result, or was that a result?” she hissed.

“Yeah, one – nil to us,” I hissed back. “And it’s not over yet!”

It wasn’t. Not nearly. I was more determined than ever to get Spud and Tiff back together. I mean, to start with I’d only wanted to save our sleepover. But now I wanted to save Spud and Tiff too. That would show those sneery little witches!

I kept picturing it, like a scene from a soap. Tiff all pink and happy. And poor old Spud staring at his boots, telling her how sorry he was. I didn’t know how we were going to make this mushy scene come true, mind you. But each time I replayed it in my mind, the more real it seemed. Then all at once I’d got it. A totally brilliant plan!!

I know what you’re thinking! Frankie Thomas, playing Cupid. This is all a bad dream, right? Yeah, yeah. I don’t understand it either. But it’s not true what people say about only children. We aren’t all selfish little so-and-sos, you know. Besides, I’m not an only any more. I’m going to be a big sister like Tiff. Who knows, I might need a favour myself one day!

Anyway, when it was afternoon break, we streaked straight into the playground and grabbed our favourite corner. You’ve got to be quick off the mark if you want any privacy at our school. Unless you like being tripped up by sad little kids droning “Five little speckled frogs”!

Lyndz split her packet of Skittles with us. Then I made Rosie run through Spud and Tiff’s quarrel again to make sure she hadn’t left out something important. Don’t give me that look. I’m NOT a bossy boots, OK. But someone has to get thiings started, and it’s usually me.

“It was Tiff and Spud’s anniversary,” explained Rosie. “They’ve been going out a whole year. So Spud was meant to be taking Tiff to the multiplex to see that James Bond film.”

“Coo-el,” said Lyndz. “My brother says James Bond’s new girlfriend is wicked.”

“Yeah, she does mega stunts and looks amazing,” said Kenny.

“I saw her on telly,” sighed Fliss. “She’s got a figure to die for.”

Some days I feel like I’m the only girl in the Sleepover Club with brain cells. I took a big breath. “BUT LOVER BOY FORGOT TO TURN UP, OK!” I bellowed, to get their attention.

Kenny rubbed her ears. “Keep your hair on, Spaceman.”

“Sorry Rosie,” said Lyndz.

“Spud did worse than just forget,” Rosie went on. “He actually went off to football practice with his mates.”

“Duh,” said Lyndz. “What a nerd.”

“I don’t see what’s nerdy about that,” said Kenny. For reasons none of us understand, football is totally sacred to Kenny. And anyone who dares to criticise her favourite team, Leicester City, is in big trouble.

“I think it’s awful,” said Fliss dramatically. “It shows some stupid game is more important to Spud than his feelings for Tiffany.” Sometimes Fliss talks like a problem page.

Kenny had an evil glint in her eye. “Football’s not stupid.”

“Let Rosie finish, you wallies. The bell’s going any minute.”

So Rosie told us how her sister kept ringing the cinema to see when the next showing was. Tiffany thought she’d got the times wrong at first. Then she finally realised Spud wasn’t coming. But she didn’t make a big fuss or anything. Just shut herself in her room and finished her homework. See what I mean? There’s something unnatural about that girl.

Of course, next day old Spud breezes round, as if nothing’s happened. When he let slip where he’d been, Tiff totally flipped. Being a Cartwright, she didn’t explain why she was upset, of course. Just did what we call her Ice Queen routine and sent Spud packing.

“Now he thinks she hates him,” Rosie said, her lip trembling.

“Cheer up,” I said. “Those two are going to live happily ever after if it kills us!”

For a minute Rosie looked exactly like my little dog Pepsi, when she thinks you’re taking her for a walk; all hopeful, with her head on one side. “Do you really think so, Frankie?” she quavered.

“I know so,” I beamed. “I’ve got a plan.”

And if I say so myself, when the others heard it, they were pretty impressed.

“Hey,” said Kenny, as we went back into class. “Anyone notice the M&Ms snooping round that time?”

“Not unless they were disguised as dustbins,” giggled Fliss.

We finally spotted them in a huddle with Alana and Regina Hill. The M&Ms, I mean, not the dustbins! Alana made this big thing of shutting her sad little teen magazine and putting it away, to stop us seeing who they were drooling over. But I’d already clocked it. Probably because Juice is the only pop singer I actually know personally.

I’m not swanking. It’s the truth!

He wasn’t a singer when I knew him, though. Just this weird kid called Julian Whately who lived next door to a friend of Mum’s. Then he dyed his hair, changed his name, and became this, like, big superstar. And if you want my honest opinion, he’s still a dork. It’s a total mystery to me why so many girls go wild about him. For some reason, the M&Ms had got it bad for Juice. I heard them whispering about him all afternoon. But I couldn’t care less what they were cooking up. I didn’t have time. I was working out what we were going to say to Spud after school.

I don’t know about you, but if I was going out with a boy, I’d personally prefer one with a sensible name. I mean, what kind of name is SPUD? Sounds like a labrador with gruesome breath! Also, you’d think someone called Spud would look tough, wouldn’t you? You know, with a serious tattoo or a stubbly haircut. But Tiff’s Spud’s got this fluffy yellow hair. Kenny says he looks like an ugly little duckling!

Anyway, we hit the Happy Shopper at 3.30pm on the dot. Both Tiff and Spud work there after school, which at this moment they were probably REALLY regretting.

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