Authors: Fiona Cummings
by Fiona Cummings
Hiya! I haven’t seen you for a while. We’ve been having a pretty wild time lately – that’s why we haven’t been around much. Guess where we’ve been? Go on! It’s tough, you’ll never get it. Do you give up? OK then, I’ll tell you! We’ve only been in a circus,
where. I knew you’d be amazed! The whole thing’s amazed us, I can tell you. Not to mention our parents – although I don’t really want to talk about that right now, it’s too depressing. Because if they get their way, the Sleepover Club is finally finished – curtain down,
Now you’re looking miserable too, and we can’t have that. If I tell you what we’ve been up to, it’s bound to cheer you up. But if you hear anyone calling out “Kenny!” in a bellyaching kind of voice, just ignore them. It’ll be Molly my stupid sister, and I’ve just about had enough of her. If it wasn’t for her, our parents wouldn’t be so mad with us now.
Anyway, I’m on my way to meet the others to decide how to get round our parents. I mean, we’ve been in messes before, as you well know, but nothing like this. This time it’s BA-AD!
How did it all start? I hear you ask. Well, I’ll tell you.
Right next to our school, there’s this piece of open land. People hold car-boot sales on it and stuff like that. But generally it’s empty, and kids just use it as a cut-through to school.
Well, one week there was
of activity there. First they sealed it off so no-one could walk across it. Then loads of men in wellies appeared, making notes on clip-boards. After that, different men started marking
things out on the ground. Fliss got all squeamish when she saw that and swore they were drawing around dead bodies! Then finally one day, a whole load of lorries appeared and started putting up all these really big metal poles.
“They must be building something,” remarked Rosie as we were walking home.
“They look like enormous tent poles to me!” Lyndz chipped in.
“Yeah, right!” I chortled. “Like anyone would just go and put up an enormous tent right next to school.”
But do you know what? That’s exactly what someone
do. It was there in all its glory when I walked to school the next morning. And by the time we left school in the afternoon, the land was full of caravans and cars and there seemed to be hundreds of people milling about.
“I know what it is!” shrieked Fliss when she saw all the activity. “It’s going to be a
The rest of us were
excited, but Lyndz went all sniffy and frosty.
“It’s not cool having animals cooped up in cages just so they can come out and perform for ten minutes a night,” she said. “It’s cruel and unkind.”
Now I don’t know about you, but I was amazed to hear Lyndz say that. I mean, we all know how mad Lyndz is about horses, don’t we? I thought she’d
to see them with plumes and everything, prancing about in a circus.
Fliss must have been thinking the same thing, because she piped up, “I thought you
seeing animals, Lyndz.”
“Not when they’re caged up with no freedom, I don’t,” Lyndz snapped back.
We could tell that there’d be no shifting Lyndz’s opinion, so the rest of us just exchanged glances and kept quiet. And we kept quiet every day when we passed the circus, and Lyndz tutted and sighed and said how terrible it all was. Part of me knew that she was right, of course, but part of me
wanted to go to the circus to see the
clowns and the trapeze artists and all that other stuff.
So it was a huge relief all round when we saw the first poster advertising the circus. It announced:
“See that?” I prodded the poster excitedly. “It’s ‘all human’! That means there’s not an animal in sight.” I turned to Lyndz. “So now do you think you might just get the
bit excited about there being a circus in town?”
Lyndz blushed. “I guess so,” she admitted.
“Hey guys, look!” Rosie was still studying the poster and jiggling up and down with excitement. “The first performance is on Saturday next week. That’s your birthday, Lyndz! Now that you approve of circuses, we could all come here to celebrate. What do you say?”
We all looked eagerly at Lyndz.
“We-e-ell,” she said very slowly. “Seeing as there are no animals involved, that sounds like a great idea!”
We whooped and cheered and did high fives.
That last comment was our arch-rivals, the M&Ms. Emily Berryman and Emma Hughes are these dweeby girls in our class who always try to spoil our fun, but there was no
that anyone was going to spoil our excitement today. We just pulled faces at them until they’d disappeared out of sight.
Before we split up to go our separate ways, Lyndz said, “Remember to ask whether
you can come to the circus next week.”
“Will we be having a sleepover afterwards too?” Rosie asked expectantly.
The smile disappeared from Lyndz’s face and she shook her head. “Na-ah. Dad’s doing some work on the side of the house, so there’s a great gaping hole in one of the walls and part of the roof’s off. Mum doesn’t want the responsibility of anyone coming and injuring themselves. Sorry!”
To tell you the truth, that kind of put a damper on things. We
have a sleepover to celebrate our birthdays. But we didn’t want to go on about it too much because Lyndz looked dead upset.
“Never mind. We’ll have a great time at the circus, won’t we?” giggled Frankie, pretending she was a clown juggling with imaginary balls.
“What are you doing?” I ribbed her. “You look like a performing seal, and there aren’t any of those in this circus, remember?”
She whacked me on the back and, laughing, we all went our separate ways.
When I got home I was dying to tell Mum
all about the circus, but Molly was already there, boring her to death about something Edward stupid Marsh had done.
You remember my brain-dead sister, don’t you? And how she has absolutely
interesting going on in her life? Well, now she spends all her time talking about this new boy in her class. He’s called Edward Marsh, and we hear his stupid name about a million times a day. “Edward Marsh said this…” “Edward Marsh did that…”. Bo-ring! To listen to Molly you’d think he was some kind of god.
Anyway, when I did manage to get a word in, I told Mum all about Circus Jamboree. But before Mum could say anything, Molly piped up:
“Edward Marsh told me about that. He said it’s supposed to be really brilliant.”
“Bully for Edward Marsh,” I spat back. “If he’s so wonderful I’m surprised he’s not
in the circus. All by himself. He could manage that, couldn’t he?”
“Well actually, he’s—”
I groaned. I didn’t want to listen to any
more about Edward Marsh, so I yelled over the top of her: “Mum! Is it OK if I go to the circus next Saturday for Lyndz’s birthday?”