“Quite fitting that it was in the Accident and Emergency department then, wasn’t it?” chortled her dad.
Fliss was still going on about getting lost in hospital when we went to visit Rosie at home the following week. Rosie hobbled to the door on crutches.
“Hey, cool!” I marvelled.
“I don’t know about cool,” said Rosie. “It takes me about half an hour just to get upstairs!”
“I bet you’re glad to be home, though,” said Fliss.
“You bet I am!” she agreed. “I just feel so bad for all the kids who spend a lot of time in hospital. It is pretty grim in there.”
“Why don’t we raise money for the appeal?” I suggested. It had kind of been playing on my mind ever since we visited Rosie in hospital.
“How?” asked Lyndz.
“I dunno,” I admitted, shrugging my shoulders.
We’re not always very successful with our attempts at fundraising, as you probably know. Then I had a brilliant idea.
“We could sit in baths of baked beans and get people to give us money for it!” I yelled, leaping out of my chair.
“Oh, yuck!” the others chorused.
“No way!” said Fliss emphatically.
“OK, I could sit in a bath of baked beans then,” I volunteered. “I’d give loads of money if I saw someone doing that!”
“No, Kenny!” said Frankie firmly. “And sit down, won’t you? You’re going to damage Rosie’s foot the way you’re jumping around.”
I sat down.
“I know,” said Fliss. “How about a sponsored walk or something?”
“Bo-ring!” the rest of us sang.
“I was only trying to help!” Fliss sniffed. “You come up with some suggestions then!”
“I have done,” I reminded her. “I can sit in a bath of baked beans!”
“NO, Kenny!” the others shouted.
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