Mega Sleepover 7: Summer Collection. Narinder Dhami

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СКАЧАТЬ well, if you want to be a bunch of wimps…” I muttered.

      “Look, the caretaker’s opening the gates,” Lyndz said quickly. “And here comes Mrs Poole with the Mayoress!”

      All the people queuing outside started to file in. They crowded round the little platform, which had been left there yesterday after Sports Day. Mrs Pontefract, the Mayoress, was chatting to Mrs Poole as she went up on to the platform to make a speech. Mrs Weaver had warned us that we weren’t allowed to sell a single ticket until she’d declared the fair open.

      “Well, firstly let me say how very happy I am to be here,” declared Mrs Pontefract, looking at all the people clustered round the platform. She was wearing her robes and gold chain, but because she was very short and round, she looked like a Teletubby! Mrs Pontefract had been to our school a few times before, and whenever she made a speech she always went on and on, so none of us bothered listening.

      “I wonder who’ll win the Dalmatian,” said Fliss, giving it a pat.

      “I bet it’s still left over at the end,” I said. “The best prizes always are!”

      “… and now I am happy to declare this Summer Fair open!” said the Mayoress, and everyone clapped. Then they all started rushing over to the stalls. Mrs Poole and Mrs Pontefract left the platform, and they started looking round the fair too.

      “Hello, I want to buy some tickets,” said a familiar voice. We all looked round, and there was Isabella with her purse in her hand.

      “That was quick!” said Fliss with a shy smile. “You’re our first customer, Isabella!”

      “Hold on – you’re supposed to be helping Lyndz’s mum on the cake stall, aren’t you?” I asked, glaring at Isabella.

      “Mrs Collins say I can come and buy some tickets.” Isabella pointed at the Dalmatian. “I want to win this!”

      “Yeah, he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Frankie said enthusiastically.

      Isabella held out a pound coin. “Please can I have five tickets?”

      “I suppose so,” I muttered, taking the money.

      “Isabella!” Maria slipped out from behind the cake stall and rushed over to her. She gave me an evil stare, and then began jabbering away in Spanish to Isabella. Even though we couldn’t understand what they were saying, it was obvious they were having an argument. I guessed that Maria didn’t want Isabella to buy any tickets from us!

      Isabella wouldn’t take any notice though. She put her hand into the drum, and pulled out some folded tickets. She took three herself and gave two of them to Maria to open.

      “Anything ending in 0 or 5 wins a prize!” Lyndz said helpfully, and I glanced at her, annoyed. I didn’t want Isabella to win anything!

      Isabella said something in Spanish and threw her tickets in the bin by the side of the stall, looking disappointed. Meanwhile, Maria was looking at one of the two tickets she had in her hand with a big smile on her face.

      “I win a prize!” She grinned smugly at me. “I have a number with 0 at the end!”

      “Trust her!” I muttered to Frankie.

      “I have number 500!” Maria announced, waving the ticket over her head.

      “Yes! We win the dog!” Isabella shouted, beaming all over her face.

      “No, you can’t have!” I gasped, and the other Sleepovers looked gobsmacked too. Our best prize couldn’t have been won by the first customer who bought a ticket! And there was no way I was letting Maria and Isabella have it!

      “Yes! We win!” Maria and Isabella were celebrating, doing high fives, but I had an idea. Quickly I whipped the 500 ticket off the front of the Dalmatian and swopped it with the one on a can of Coca Cola, which had 225 on it. The other Sleepovers could hardly believe their eyes!

      “Kenny, you can’t do that!” Fliss began, but I elbowed her in the ribs. “Ow!”

      “Here’s your prize, Isabella,” I said casually. “A can of Coke!”

      Maria and Isabella stared at me. “No, I win the dog!” Isabella said with a frown.

      “No, I don’t think so!” I shook my head. “The Dalmatian’s number 225!”

      Isabella and Maria both blinked as if they were seeing things. “No, it was 500!” Isabella said furiously. “You change it so we do not win!”

      “I did not!” I said.

      “You should let us have a free go!” Maria said, trying to grab some more tickets out of the tombola drum.

      “No way!” I legged it round to the front of the stall, and tried to push her away, but Maria picked the drum up off the stall and held it tightly.

      “Give it back!” I yelled, and we started to have a tug-of-war!

      By now quite a lot of people were looking round at us to see what was going on. I was so mad I didn’t care, not even when I saw that Mrs Poole and the Mayoress were heading in our direction. Pilar and the other Spanish girls also dashed over from the cake stall to find out what was happening, and they started calling to Maria in Spanish.

      “Kenny, stop it!” Frankie was saying, and so were the others, but I just pulled my end of the tombola drum even harder.

      Unfortunately, the drum was a bit rickety and it couldn’t take the strain. It split in two, and Maria and I both fell backwards…

      “What on earth’s going on here?” Mrs Poole began with a frown, but next second she and the Mayoress were both showered in hundreds of raffle tickets!

      

      “Well?”

      Mrs Poole sat at her desk the following morning and stared hard at the ten of us lined up in a row – me and the rest of the Sleepover Club as well as Maria and the Spanish girls. Usually Mrs P. was a bit of a pushover, and talked more about how sorry she was that we’d let her down, rather than just going ballistic. But this time she looked like she was going to tear us to bits.

      “I was very ashamed of your behaviour in front of all our visitors, and the Mayoress too,” Mrs Poole went on sternly. “Poor Mrs Pontefract was picking raffle tickets out of her hat for at least ten minutes afterwards.”

      I bit my lip, hoping I looked upset, but really I was trying not to laugh! We’d spent the rest of the Summer Fair on our hands and knees sweeping up the tombola tickets, and we’d had tellings-off from Mrs Weaver, the Mayoress and from Lyndz’s mum. Now it was Mrs Poole’s turn.

      “There’d better be a good reason for such appalling behaviour,” Mrs Poole went on, looking hard at us, one by one, “or I’m afraid СКАЧАТЬ