Hit the Beach!. Harriet Castor

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СКАЧАТЬ me, or I’ll tickle you till you wee yourself!”

      “Aaaagh! Ah-ah-ah, noooo!” Even when she’s doubled up with giggles, Frankie’s a good match for anyone. With one nifty move, she twisted out of my grip and leapt away, laughing. “You’ll find out, Sherlock! We’ve got a plan. It may not work, though…”

      Just then the bell rang.

      What could I do? Short of biffing Frankie with my rucksack (and I was in enough trouble anyway, thank you very much), I couldn’t think of a thing. So I tramped inside along with everyone else and sat there like a lemon while Mrs Weaver took the register. Just as she got to the Ts there was a knock on the classroom door. It was Mrs Lynch, the seriously scary school secretary.

      “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mrs Weaver,” she said, “but could you spare Emily Berryman for a moment? Mrs Poole would like to see her.”

      “Of course,” said Mrs Weaver, looking surprised. “Run along, Emily.”

      Though Mrs Weaver looked surprised, the Goblin didn’t. She shot Frankie a look I couldn’t fathom, and followed Mrs Lynch out of the room.

      I have to say, when Emily came back ten minutes later and said to Mrs Weaver that now old Pooley wanted to see me, I was past being surprised. Mrs Poole could have walked in with a blancmange elephant on her head and I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid (though I might have fallen off my chair laughing).

      As I stood up, Frankie squeezed my hand. “Good luck,” she whispered. Good luck with what? I wondered. Was I going to be carted off to the Tower of London after all?

      When I reached her office, though, I found Mrs Poole looking a lot jollier than the day before.

      “Some more facts have come to light about yesterday’s unfortunate incident with the yoghurt, Laura,” she said. “I understand that there had been some provocation.”

      “Yes, Mrs Poole,” I began. “I tried to tell you…”

      But Mrs Poole held up her hand. “Emily admitted to me that she and Emma ruined your papier-mâché project. However, this was no excuse for what you did. If someone behaves badly, you only bring yourself down to their level by retaliating – do you understand?”

      I nodded.

      “Still, I do see that in the circumstances, banning you alone from the Devon activity week seems unfair.” Mrs Poole frowned. “I could of course make you, Emma and Emily all stay behind…”

      Aaargh! The thought of having a week alone with the M&Ms was so hideous it made me feel dizzy.

      Luckily, Mrs Poole quickly went on, “…but some of your classmates made an appeal to me this morning, saying that they wouldn’t enjoy the trip without you. How lovely to have such loyal friends, Laura!”

      I nodded again as a big grin crept over my face. Way to go, Sleepover Club!

      “So – as long as Mrs Weaver and I can find no fault whatsoever with your behaviour during the next three weeks,” said Mrs Poole, “I’ve decided that you can go to Devon.”

      I could have hugged her. I could have danced around her office and turned cartwheels right down the corridor. Instead, I managed to squeak, “Thanks, Mrs Poole!”

      When I got out, my friends were waiting for me: four eager faces, looking hopeful and excited.

      “Well?” said Frankie.

      “She said I can go!”

      “Yeeesssss!”

      For ages we were one big jumping, hugging bundle. Then I did high fives with everyone in turn. “Thank you sooo much, guys,” I said. “I owe you, big time!”

      “Well, we couldn’t really go without you, could we?” said Rosie.

      “Not if it was going to make you so grumpy!” laughed Lyndz.

      “I can’t believe it,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s going to be the most awesome week ever!”

      “Swimming in the sea!” said Rosie, bouncing up and down.

      “Donkey rides!” said Lyndz.

      Fliss clapped her hands. “I’ll have to buy a new sunhat!”

      “Only one?” laughed Frankie.

      “Hey, Frankie,” I said a moment later, as we headed out to the playground for break. “How did you get Emily to admit it?”

      Frankie grinned. “I told her the school’d had hidden CCTV cameras fitted in the classrooms at half term – you know, like they have in shops to catch thieves.”

      I gasped. “No! Seriously?”

      Frankie nodded. “I said Pooley had seen the tape, but she was waiting for them to own up.” She giggled. “I can’t believe she fell for it!”

      “I have seriously got to keep away from the M&Ms now,” I said. “If you see me going within a hundred miles of them, grab me.”

      “Don’t worry,” said Frankie. “I’ll lock you in the stationery cupboard if I have to. And once we get to Devon, even if they’re being totally annoying, I reckon there’s going to be loads to take our minds off them.”

      And boy, was she right about that one!

      

      “Sit down, everyone, so I can count you!”

      Mrs Weaver had to yell above the noise. The whole class had piled on to the coach in a MEGA excited mood and people were bouncing up and down so much the coach was actually rocking.

      “I’ve got buttons!” said Rosie, waving a bag of chocolates.

      “I’ve got Pringles!” said Lyndz.

      Fliss knelt up in her seat. “I only packed four swimming costumes. Do you think that’ll be enough?”

      “Fliss!” I yelped. “The rest of us only own one! How many does a girl need?”

      As the coach pulled away we all waved like mad things. It’s funny – if I’d been going somewhere on my own for a week, I would’ve felt sad saying goodbye to Mum and Dad. But heading off with my friends didn’t worry me at all – I couldn’t wait for our majorly wicked holiday to begin.

      There was only our class on the trip, but we had three teachers with us: Mrs Weaver (of course), Miss Walsh who usually teaches Year 5, and Mrs Daniels who usually teaches Year 4. They were sitting at the front near the driver, miles away from us, thank goodness.

      Frankie was next to me, Rosie and Fliss had the seats behind us, and Lyndz had a double-seat all to herself across the gangway. СКАЧАТЬ