Sleepover Girls on the Range (6 page)

She walked briskly down towards the entrance, leaving the rest of us to trot after her.

To be honest, we didn’t really know what we should be doing. It was all right for her to smile at people and tell them how nice it was to see them, because she was sort of a celebrity around Cuddington. All we could do was stand there and look dumb, like a load of spare parts. At least there were loads of people pouring through the gates, which seemed to have cheered Mrs McAllister up. Unfortunately, you couldn’t really say the same for Fliss, who was looking frazzled beyond belief. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea of Frankie’s to have made her take the entrance money, because Flissy’s not that great at maths.

When Frankie’s mum appeared, she volunteered to take over collecting
admission money, so Fliss and Rosie came over to join us.

“What’s up, Fliss?” we asked.

She was the colour of a beetroot and looked just about ready to cry.

“It’s those stupid M&Ms!” she spluttered.

“They’re not here, are they?” we gasped.

“They sure are,” Rosie told us grimly. “And they look as though they mean to cause trouble. They were very rude about Fliss’s costume and were just about to threaten us when Mrs McAllister asked if everything was all right. We’re going to have to watch them.”

“Don’t worry – we will!” Kenny said menacingly. “Or maybe it should be
them
who should watch out for
us”

Before we could ask what she meant, a whistling pierced the air. Mrs Chandri’s voice began to float towards us from across the yard. She was obviously addressing everyone on the microphone, so we went to join the crowd who had gathered round her. I don’t think we really paid too much attention to what she was saying – we were too busy trying to spot the M&Ms.
Unfortunately I clocked them at just the moment when Mrs Chandri had thanked us by name for making the Open Day possible. We just sort of stood there like lemons whilst everyone applauded and the stupid M&Ms sniggered behind their hands.

When Mrs Chandri announced that the children’s fancy-dress competition was about to take place, we huddled together and tried to decide on a plan of action.

“Whatever we do, we mustn’t let them know we’re having our sleepover here tonight,” Frankie warned. “They’d try to spoil it for sure.”

“We’ll just have to put them off that scent,” Rosie said. “What about luring them somewhere else?”

“Like the lassoing competition!” Kenny’s eyes lit up. “Now that could be
very
entertaining!”

We walked over to the show-ring, where Mrs McAllister often teaches. It had been marked out for the lassoing competition with lines at various distances. Standing on the first line was a papier mâché cow, which
Stuart had also managed to borrow from his mate Sam’s father. (I don’t know what kind of business that man is in, but it all seems pretty strange to me!) Dad and Frankie’s dad were there practising with the lassos.

“Look at them – they’re just like big kids!” I sighed.

“I heard that!” Dad turned round and grinned at us. “I guess it’s the nearest we’re ever going to get to being real cowboys, so we’re just savouring the moment. Mrs Chandri asked if we’d help to organise the competition. You don’t mind, do you? It’s just that the campfire’s already going but there’s not much we can do until it’s time to cook. And Kenny’s dad said he’d keep his eye on it for a bit.”

To tell you the truth, we were glad of the offer. Especially as the Gruesome Twosome had just appeared behind us, along with a few more people curious about the competition.

“Sure Dad, go for it!”

When a large enough crowd had gathered, Dad explained to everyone that the winner
would be whoever managed to lasso the cow at the furthest distance. The prize was free videos for a month from the local video shop.

“Right, could all competitors line up in front of me please, and could all spectators please remain behind the fence,” Dad ordered.

Kenny and Frankie lined up to take part. Rosie, Fliss and I went round the far side to watch. I’d practised at home, and I knew that I couldn’t lasso an elephant if it was standing still in front of me!

Rosie nudged me. “Look who’s joining in too!”

Emma Hughes had barged to the front of the queue, and her little sidekick Emily Berryman was standing round the other side of the ring opposite us. A group of older boys were taking part, plus three women who were obviously just having a laugh until the line-dancing started and a few men, including Andy.

The competition started with the boys. Two of them were very good and lassoed the
cow after a couple of attempts, but the others were
hopeless.
They had their three tries and had to drop out of the competition! When it came to Kenny’s turn, she lassoed it without even
looking
at it.

“I think she’s been practising this at home, don’t you?” muttered Fliss.

Frankie got it right on her third attempt. And so did Emma Hughes – worse luck.

In the next round the cow was moved further away. A load of people had dropped out, so we figured the competition would be over pretty quickly.

“That might be just as well,” said Rosie, looking up to the sky. “I’m sure I felt a drop of rain just then.”

The sky was looking very black.

“Come on Kenny, you can do it!” we yelled when it was her turn.

This time she did look at the target – and lassoed it first time. Unfortunately Frankie missed it completely, so she came to join us.

“I hope Emma Hughes misses, because she’s winding Kenny up big time,” she told us.

But unfortunately, Emma didn’t.

By the time the cow was moved again, there was only Emma, Kenny, one of the boys and Andy left in. When it came to Kenny’s turn, she turned to Emma and said:

“Why don’t you go first?”

Emma looked unsure, but the drops of rain were bigger and coming down faster and you could tell that she just wanted to get out of there. She took the lasso and had her three attempts, but missed each time.

“Bad luck!” said Kenny sarcastically, taking the lasso from her.

As Emma started to run with Emily towards shelter, along with the rest of the crowd, Kenny turned and grinned.

“A moving target! Just what I like!”

She raised the lasso above her head
and aimed for the M&Ms!

“No Kenny,
don’t!”

I could see disaster ahead! But obviously so could Andy, because he ran towards Kenny, knocking her off balance. She stumbled to the ground, the lasso on top of her.

“That wasn’t a very smart move, Kenny,” he told her gruffly, picking up the rope. “Get into the shelter now before you get soaked.”

The rest of us pulled Kenny to her feet and started to run. If anyone else found out what Kenny had been about to do, she’d be in big trouble. But that wasn’t the only trouble we were going to have to face, because everyone was running to shelter in the barn. OUR barn. Where all our sleepover stuff was.

“You don’t suppose …” panted Rosie as we flew through the door.

But it was too late. There in the corner, standing over our sleeping bags, were the M&Ms, wearing their cheesiest, most sickening grins.

“What do we do now?” hissed Fliss through gritted teeth. “They’re bound to sabotage our sleepover things, aren’t they?”

“Well they can’t do anything with all these people here, can they?” reasoned Frankie. “We’ll just have to make sure that they’re never alone in here, OK?”

We watched the M&Ms like hawks whilst we were all in the barn, which wasn’t easy because people kept coming over to distract us. Like Fliss’s mum, who came to coo over her precious baby Fliss and ask why she hadn’t entered the fancy-dress competition.

“Because it’s for
children,
Mum!” Fliss looked dead embarrassed.

“But you
are
a child, darling!” Mrs Sidebotham giggled, tweaking one of Fliss’s perfect blonde plaits. “Anyway, I’m going to enter the adult competition, so one of us should win a prize today!”

The rest of us raised our eyes at each other. Poor Fliss – having a mother like that was as embarrassing as still liking
Teletubbies.

“It’s stopped raining, everyone!” Mrs Chandri suddenly called. “It was only a little shower. Could all contestants for the adult fancy-dress competition please make your way to the stable yard? And I hope you’re all ready for some line-dancing, because that will be taking place shortly.”

“Bye darling, I must get a good spot for the competition,” Fliss’s mum laughed as she dashed away. “See you later for the line-dancing!”

“See you later for the line-dancing!” mimicked two voices behind us. No prizes for guessing who
that
was.

“Oh, shut your faces!” snarled Kenny. “You’re a couple of wusses, you are! I challenge you both to ride on the Bucking Bronco! And I bet I can stay on longer than the both of you put together!”

“Oh yeah?” retorted Emma Hughes. “It’s funny how it’s always
you
who challenges us, isn’t it? Are the rest of your little friends wimps then?”

She looked menacingly at our faces.

“All right then – challenge any of us to the Bucking Bronco!” Kenny dared her. “We’ll still whup the pants off you!”

“OK.” Emma Hughes stared at us all steadily. “Who do you think we should choose, Em?”

Emily Berryman grinned in that stupid way she has. “It just has to be Felicity Wimpy-Knicks, doesn’t it?”

They both started to cackle. Fliss went white, then she went red, and then she went white again. But to give her credit, she didn’t start to cry or anything – she just swallowed hard a few times and whispered:

“You’re on!”

“Hey, Fliss – way to go!” yelled Kenny, slapping her on the back. “Follow me for the Bucking Bronco challenge!”

She led us up the yard to the small paddock by the gate. A small fence had been put up in the shape of a square, and the grass inside was covered by blue crash-mats. A metal horse was standing in the middle of it. There was no-one else there, apart from Stuart and the same blonde girl I’d seen him with earlier.

When Stuart saw us, he groaned.

“I wondered when you lot were going to show up. This is my kid sister, Lyndsey.” He blushed and smiled at the blonde girl. “And Lyndz, this is Sam!”

“Sam!” I yelled. “I thought Sam was a boy! I mean, I can see you’re not, but …”

The others were all laughing at me, especially Sam.

“It’s all right, I know what you mean!” she grinned. “I’m glad Dad could lend you the Bucking Bronco. These are ace stables. I thought I might come here to have a ride myself.”

“Oh-oh, don’t get her started on horses!” Stuart groaned in mock despair. “I take it you want a go on here, then?”

“Not all of us,” Kenny explained. “Just Fliss and these two morons here.”

The M&Ms seemed a tiny bit over-awed because Stuart was there.

“Oh, OK. Who’s first then?” Stuart asked.

“Could I go?” Fliss whispered.

“Sure thing – on you go!”

It took Rosie and me
ages
to help Fliss get on the thing, weighed down as she was by all her petticoats. And she looked absolutely terrified as Stuart started it off.

“Hold on, Fliss!” we yelled.

“Keep it gentle, Stu!” I pleaded. “Fliss hates stuff like this!”

“Hey, that’s not fair – he’s got to do it the same for all of us!” Emma Hughes shouted indignantly.

Stuart shrugged and started to make the Bucking Bronco go faster and faster. Fliss slithered over the head, then fell back and clung on sideways over the saddle. She looked dead funny, but we knew we couldn’t
laugh. When she finally tipped off, she looked exhausted.

“Well done, Fliss!” Frankie shouted. “You stayed on for seventy-two seconds. That’s not bad!”

Emily Berryman was up next. And you’ll never believe this, but she fell off after
five seconds.
I mean, how pathetic is that!

“You’ve got to stay on for over a minute, Hughes. What do you make of that?” Kenny called.

“Piece of cake!” she yelled back and clambered on to the horse.

“I hate her attitude!” Kenny sniffed. “I think we should teach her a lesson, don’t you? Can I have a go at controlling this thing, Stuart?”

“I don’t know about that!” Stuart sounded a bit unsure.

“Oh give her a go, she’s seen how it works!” laughed Sam, pushing my stupid brother out of the way. “I sense there’s quite a lot at stake here!”

Kenny gleefully grabbed hold of the joystick controller and made the Bronco spin. It went slowly at first and you could see
Hughesy looking really smug. Then Kenny speeded it up so all you could see was a blur of legs and hair. Then she slowed it down, then speeded it up. Then it started twirling and whirling, and although Emma was still clinging on, she was going greener and greener.

“I think you’d better stop it, Kenny!” said Frankie anxiously.

“No way!” laughed Kenny wildly.

But she didn’t have to stop it, because Emma Hughes suddenly flew off, stumbled to her feet – and threw up all over the mats.

“Yeuch!”
we all groaned.

“That was your fault, McKenzie!” snarled Emily Berryman, who had gone to comfort her friend. “We’re gonna get you for that!”