Hit the Beach!. Harriet Castor
Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу Hit the Beach! - Harriet Castor страница

Название: Hit the Beach!

Автор: Harriet Castor

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Детская проза

Серия:

isbn: 9780007380251

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ "u1b4db4c5-52a1-5840-9f7c-f5de4ea3725f"> image
publisher logo

       Harriet Castor

publisher logo

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       4

       5

       6

       7

       8

       9

       10

       Top Sleepover TIPS

       Have You Been Invited to all these Sleepovers?

       The Sleepover Kit List

       Acknowledgement

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       images

      Hey, wave warrior! How’s it going, dude? Why don’t you cruise on over here and hang out with your old buddy Kenny, huh?

      No, it’s OK, I haven’t got sunstroke. It’s just my beach speak – I’ve been practising it ever since we got back from our awesome trip. What’s that? You haven’t heard about it yet? I can’t believe one of the others hasn’t filled you in – it’s all we’ve been yakking about for ages.

      But that’s brilliant, cos now I get to tell you! We’ve been having the coolest summer – you’re going to be so wowed when you hear about it, I swear. Quick, let’s sit over here in the shade so we don’t fry. If I get any more sun, I’ll be peeling for weeks.

      OK, so you remember us all, right? The five super-cool members of the Sleepover Club? First there’s me, Kenny. On my birth certificate it says my name’s Laura McKenzie, but no one calls me that unless they’re narked with me – or they’re a teacher. (And the teachers are usually narked with me anyway.)

      Next there’s Frankie – look, she’s over there, flinging a frisbee at Lyndz. Frankie and I have known each other for ever, and she’s a complete laugh. I think you can blame most of the craziest Sleepover Club ideas on her – life just ain’t quiet with Frankie around!

      As for Lyndz, she’s as mad on ponies as I am on Leicester City Football Club (and that is seriously mad). In fact, it’s a wonder she’s with us right now – usually every spare minute she’s got she’s off to the stables to shovel horse poo, or whatever it is they make you do down there. (Yeuch!)

      Then there’s Fliss – Felicity Sidebotham if you’re being formal. Yep, that’s her, lounging on a towel in her new hot-pink bikini. Summer just has to be her favourite time of year, judging by the number of new outfits she always seems to get. I don’t know how she makes it out of the house in the morning. With that many to choose from I’d be dithering till bedtime.

      And last – but so not least – there’s Rosie. Fliss is trying to compare tans with her, but she doesn’t look that interested, does she? You might think Rosie’s the quietest of the gang. Don’t bet on it though, cos sometimes she surprises you. Talk about hidden talents! You won’t believe it when I tell you what she’s been up to.

      But I’ve got to start at the beginning, haven’t I? Kenny, get your brain in gear, girl! OK, so here goes.

      I know it sounds weird, but the coolest, most glamorous Sleepover adventure yet actually started at Cuddington Primary. Yep, our familiar old school. And it started with those familiar old slime bags, the M&Ms (that’s Emily ‘the Goblin’ Berryman and Emma ‘the Queen’ Hughes). I’m sure you haven’t forgotten about them – they’re the most stuck-up, snotty girls in our class, and they’ve been the number one enemies of the Sleepover Club since… well, forever.

      It was a Tuesday morning and we were doing Art. Our teacher Mrs Weaver had brought in a packet of balloons, and we were making papier-mâché animals. Sounds weird? I know – but actually it was quite cool. You had to blow up your balloon and then stick your papier-mâché all over it, adding extra bits for legs and ears and whatever.

      Frankie and I were doing quite well – even though we’d spent half the lesson flicking bits of gluey paper at each other.

      “Mine’s not an animal, it’s a space rocket,” said Frankie, dragging a lump of gunge out of her hair. She had another bit stuck to her forehead, but I wasn’t going to let on. It looked hilarious. She peered at my paper-covered balloon. “What’s yours?”

      “A squashed football?” suggested Fliss.

      “Mr Potato Head?” said Rosie.

      “Wrong and wrong again,” I said. I’d just cut up an egg box and I picked up one of the bits. “Look, this one’s the snout,” I said. “And these are the little stubby legs. And this one I’ll cut in half for the ears. Oink, oink! Any guesses?”

      Frankie grinned. “It’s Emma Hughes!”

      Ha, ha! That made us all fall about.

      “I heard my name. Are you talking about me?” said a snooty voice behind us. I spun round and there were the M&Ms – trust them to be listening in! Honestly, it just shows how pathetic they are that they don’t have anything else to do but annoy us.

      “Yeuch, no,” I said, turning back. “That’d be the most boring conversation in the universe.”

      Then СКАЧАТЬ