Sleepover Club Eggstravaganza. Ginny Deals

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      Holy moley. Nuclear war had nothing on Mrs Poole. You could see this huge thundercloud over her head, complete with forked lightning zigzagging out of it. We all leapt up in one terrified huddle, and followed her in silence as she stormed across the playground, virtually pushing over all the small kids who were standing in the way and staring.

      She marched us straight down the corridor, where we trailed earthy muck all over the clean floor-tiles, and straight into her office. Once there, she went and stood behind her desk, breathing deeply, her knuckles resting on the desktop. She looked like a crazed bull, facing a row of petal-strewn mud monsters. It would have been quite funny if it hadn’t been so totally awful.

      When she had calmed down a bit – which took a good minute or two and felt like forever – she began to speak.

      “Explain.”

      Everyone started talking at once.

      “Miss, it was Kenny…”

      “It was Emma who started it, Miss…”

      “We were just trying to stop them…”

      “We only wanted one daffodil…”

      “One – at – a – time,” she said, pegging each word out like clothes on a washing line. “Francesca Thomas. Speak.”

      I stared helplessly at Kenny, not wanting to land her in it.

      “Please, Mrs Poole,” said Kenny, “it wasn’t Frankie’s fault. She was trying to stop the fight between Emma and me.”

      I looked at her in mute thanks.

      “Fliss, Rosie and Lyndz were trying to stop the fight too,” continued Kenny bravely. She’s got serious guts, that girl. “But I wouldn’t listen. Don’t blame them, Miss.”