Sleepover Girls Go Gymtastic! (5 page)

The next couple of days we walked around like we’d been told that all holidays had been cancelled forever, television had ceased to exist and the only music we’d ever be able to listen to would be Fliss’s mum warbling along to her show tunes. And if you thought
that
was bad, it was about to get much MUCH worse.

You remember that mock science test we’d done? I must admit that I’d forgotten about it as well, until Mrs Weaver announced gravely:

“I’m sure you’ll all be thrilled to know that I’ve marked your science tests.”

A huge groan went round the classroom.

“You might well groan,” she continued in a stony voice. “I felt like groaning myself when I saw some of the test papers. Some of you did extremely well…”

The M&Ms (arch-enemies, urgh) grinned at each other like Cheshire cats.

“… whilst others of you didn’t. I have to say that I was very shocked when I saw some of the papers.” Mrs Weaver gazed deliberately over at Fliss and me. We both blushed like beetroots and stared at the table.

“Now, before I speak to you individually, we will all go over the correct answers.”

Talk about embarrassing. I couldn’t even remember seeing the questions before, never mind remember what I’d put for the answers. It’s a wonder I’d got any of them right at all.

The annoying thing was that I knew nearly all the answers as Mrs Weaver was going through them. Why had I been so distracted by our gymnastics routine? I felt really ashamed when she handed back my paper and I saw great big crosses all over it.

Just as the bell went for break she plonked her bottom down on my desk.

“I think we need to talk, Laura,” she said seriously.

Oh-oh, trouble! As soon as she’d dismissed everyone else she launched forth in her “very concerned” tone of voice.

“You know Laura, I was very shocked when I marked your paper. I had no idea that you were struggling with science. I get the impression that perhaps it’s the whole concept of the examination situation which you find hard. Your paper certainly gave the impression of someone who wasn’t very focused on the subject. In fact, I’d say that you were positively distracted. Is that fair comment, do you think?”

I nodded and looked at my feet. I could hardly admit that my mind had been focused on planning a routine for a gymnastics competition, could I?

Mrs Weaver frowned. “Well, I think the best plan is to learn from this experience and attend a few revision sessions to settle you down before the SATs proper. I’ll give your mother a call now and ask for her permission. Right then, off you go and enjoy the rest of break.”

I was doomed with a big fat D. Sure, my mum had already given me the speech about trying my best. You know the one: “All we want is for you to try your best. Results aren’t important, it’s trying your best that matters, blah, blah, blah.” You’ve had that one too, right? Well they don’t mean it, do they? What they mean is, “get good marks, or else!”

So it was with a heavy heart that I went home that evening. I was expecting fireworks and I certainly wasn’t disappointed. Mum went absolutely ballistic. And it didn’t help that Molly had already opened her mouth and rammed her Nike trainers right in it. It turned out that she knew all about the competition because she’d found the factsheet in our room. Not only that, but she’d been taking sneaky peeks at our rehearsals too. And as she was already well cheesed off because I’d broken one of her precious ornaments whilst I was trying to do those backflips upstairs, she’d wasted no time in dobbing me in.

“Really, Laura,” Mum said in her quiet but extremely angry voice. “I used to think that you were quite intelligent, but now I’m beginning to wonder. To waste your talents on some gymnastics competition when your SATs tests are just around the corner is stupid in the extreme. How many times must I tell you that however important it is to have interests, at this stage of your life your education must come first?”

(Yawn, yawn, heard it all before.)

“And if you persist in looking at me with that insolent expression on your face I’ll make sure the Sleepover Club is disbanded forever, do I make myself clear?”

Man! Mum sure can bring you back to earth and make you feel about a centimetre high sometimes. By the time I’d promised her that I was going to get down to some serious work for the SATs, and that I definitely wouldn’t be wasting any more time even
thinking
about the gymnastics competition, I felt like an old chewed up piece of Hubba-Bubba gum.

But if I thought
I’d
had a rough deal, it was nothing compared to Fliss. She was in a right state at school the next morning. Apparently Mrs Proudlove had exploded so far into the stratosphere that they thought they might have to launch a rocket just to bring her back.

“Mrs Weaver told Mum how disappointed she’d been with my test paper, and Mum just went mad,” Fliss sobbed. “She kept going on and on about how hard it was for her looking after me and Callum and the twins and said that she couldn’t cope with any more traumas. She really flipped, it was awful!”

Frankie put a reassuring arm round her. “I’m sure she was just upset at the time. She’ll have calmed down now.”

“I don’t think so,” Fliss sighed. “You should have seen her. She kept going on and on about how I’d let her down, and how I was wasting my brain and how sorry I’d be if I messed up my exams and ended up in a dead-end job.”

Now that did seem a bit dramatic. After all, it was only one little test Fliss had messed up on.

“And she said I’d be grounded for life if I didn’t put in some serious work!” Fliss wailed.

Oooh, nasty!

“The thought of being stuck in with your mum on the rampage for the rest of my days would make me get down to some pretty serious revision!” I laughed.

I thought that was funny, but no one else did. They all gave me really weird looks and carried on trying to comfort Fliss.

“I guess what Kenny is trying to say, in her clumsy way” – Frankie flashed me a look – “is that maybe we should
all
work hard and forget about the gymnastics competition. Our exams are more important, and the olds won’t ever think differently. Agreed?”

“Agreed!” we all nodded glumly.

So, all in all the next few days were boring in the extreme. Imagine watching paint dry whilst listening to nursery rhymes all day long and you still don’t come close to how boring our lives were. We went to school, we worked, we came home and did yet more work. We ate and we went to bed. Then the next day we got up and did exactly the same things again. I told you it was boring.

But before
you
get really bored and decide to leave me here talking to myself, I’m going to tell you about the miracle that happened which cheered us all up. And you’ll never guess what it was. Not even if I promise you a triple fudge sundae with extra sauce on top. Well… go on then, try to guess!

Have you given up yet? No, the SATs weren’t cancelled due to lack of interest. And you’re wrong again if you think that our parents went down on bended knees to apologise and begged us to enter the competition after all. Now that
would
have been cool. No, the miracle which saved the day for us was… Look, I’ll tell you how I found out about it, shall I? Then everything will become clear.

It was after another boring day at school (surprise, surprise) and I’d gone home and dug out my books on science to do yet more revision. You see what a good girl I am! Anyway, after I’d read through details of the solar system about a million times and filled in a factsheet Mrs Weaver had given us for homework, my
head
was in a spin, never mind all those planets. I figured what I needed was a nice chocolate milkshake to settle my brain cells down again. So I headed down to the kitchen to make one.

Mum was listening to some dweeby programme on the radio. You know the kind where some sad geezer spends half an hour chatting to an old crumbly, then plays a song which was last in the charts when Queen Victoria was on the throne.

“Hello love. Are you having a break?” Mum asked, brushing flour from her hands. She’s a wicked baker is my mum, and I was pleased to see that she’d knocked up one of her yummy pies for supper.

But all thoughts of food went right out of my head when I heard what was on the radio. The newsreader was explaining very seriously about the chaos which had occurred in Leicester that afternoon due to a major flood in the Community Hall.

Now I know that isn’t exactly earth-shattering news, and to be honest it didn’t mean much at all to start with. Until the newsreader went on to say that all functions which were due to take place there over the next few weeks would have to be rearranged whilst the hall was cleared out and the damage assessed.

Suddenly my little grey cells began to whir into action. I remembered that the
gymnastics competition
was due to be held at the Community Hall. That certainly couldn’t happen now, could it? There was just a glimmer of hope that we might be able to enter it again. Unless it was going to be held somewhere else on the same day …

I had to wait until the local evening news on TV to find out. All the time I was waiting I felt sick. I couldn’t even manage much of Mum’s pie and that really worried her. She kept looking at me anxiously and asking me if I’d been overdoing my work. Classic!

The news about the Community Hall finally came on, and the reporter made a big deal about the gymnastics competition being cancelled there, because of course the TV company was sponsoring it.

“So now there will be
three
heats for the competition,” the reporter announced. “And the winners of each will go through to a grand final. The heats will be held at Shalton Town Hall, Knaresby Community Rooms and Cuddington Leisure Centre…”

Cuddington Leisure Centre
! I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. I tried to focus on what she was saying next and I started praying that the heats wouldn’t still be held on Saturday 18th May.

“… and all the heats will now take place on Saturday 1st June.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I started leaping round the room, punching the air.

Molly walked past and snarled, “Saddo!” but I didn’t care, I was just so thrilled. It was like a sign that we
had
to enter the competition. It was as though we were destined to win it!

And that’s just what Frankie and Fliss thought when I told them too.

“It’s amazing!” Frankie agreed when I phoned her. “Our parents have just
got
to let us enter it now.”

“Yeah, but you know what happened last time.”

“What happened to you and Fliss, you mean,” Frankie reminded me. “The rest of us managed not to get so carried away, thank you very much.”

She had a point there.

“We’ll have to stay cool this time,” I warned Fliss when I spoke to her later. “SATs have to come first, OK? At least that way we’ll keep our parents off our backs and they’ll have no reason to stop us entering the competition.”

“Yeah, ’course,” Fliss agreed breezily. “But isn’t it cool that the date’s moved? It’s like the flood happened just so we could enter it again, isn’t it?”

“Yep, you feel like the television programme already has our name on it, don’t you?” I giggled. “
Sleepover Club: Gymnastic Stars
! does have a certain ring…”

Rosie and Lyndz had already heard the news when I phoned them. Neither of them seemed that excited, to be honest. Rosie tends to be quite cool about stuff anyway, and doesn’t get as wound up as the rest of us. But I think poor Lyndz had actually been relieved when the dates had clashed last time. Now she’d have to start practising her gymnastic moves all over again.

Still, when we got to school the next day, the competition was all we could talk about.

“We’ve been given this chance again, so we’ve just got to make it count,” I told the others seriously. “We’ll have to get some serious practice in, ’cos don’t forget we’ve already missed valuable rehearsal time.”

I did a couple of walkover-cartwheel combos just to prove that I hadn’t lost my touch. Then Fliss joined me in her routine of arabesque, handstand, walkover and stag leap.

“Way to go, Fliss!” I applauded her. I mean, I know she was showing off and everything, but she did look like a pretty mean gymnast. And besides, if we both performed like that in the competition there was no way we were going to lose. Even if Lyndz did look about as elegant as a chimpanzee with tummy-ache when she did her routine.