Hit the Beach! (3 page)

As I stood up, Frankie squeezed my hand. “Good luck,” she whispered. Good luck with what? I wondered. Was I going to be carted off to the Tower of London after all?

When I reached her office, though, I found Mrs Poole looking a lot jollier than the day before.

“Some more facts have come to light about yesterday’s unfortunate incident with the yoghurt, Laura,” she said. “I understand that there had been some provocation.”

“Yes, Mrs Poole,” I began. “I tried to tell you…”

But Mrs Poole held up her hand. “Emily admitted to me that she and Emma ruined your papier-mâché project. However, this was no excuse for what you did. If someone behaves
badly, you only bring yourself down to their level by retaliating – do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Still, I do see that in the circumstances, banning you alone from the Devon activity week seems unfair.” Mrs Poole frowned. “I could of course make you, Emma and Emily all stay behind…”

Aaargh! The thought of having a week alone with the M&Ms was so hideous it made me feel dizzy.

Luckily, Mrs Poole quickly went on, “…but some of your classmates made an appeal to me this morning, saying that they wouldn’t enjoy the trip without you. How lovely to have such loyal friends, Laura!”

I nodded again as a big grin crept over my face. Way to go, Sleepover Club!

“So – as long as Mrs Weaver and I can find no fault whatsoever with your behaviour during the next three weeks,” said Mrs Poole, “I’ve decided that you can go to Devon.”

I could have hugged her. I could have danced around her office and turned cartwheels right down the corridor. Instead, I managed to squeak, “Thanks, Mrs Poole!”

When I got out, my friends were waiting for me: four eager faces, looking hopeful and excited.

“Well?” said Frankie.

“She said I can go!”

“Yeeesssss!”

For ages we were one big jumping, hugging bundle. Then I did high fives with everyone in turn. “Thank you sooo much, guys,” I said. “I owe you, big time!”

“Well, we couldn’t really go without you, could we?” said Rosie.

“Not if it was going to make you so grumpy!” laughed Lyndz.

“I can’t believe it,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s going to be the most awesome week ever!”

“Swimming in the sea!” said Rosie, bouncing up and down.

“Donkey rides!” said Lyndz.

Fliss clapped her hands. “I’ll have to buy a new sunhat!”

“Only one?” laughed Frankie.

“Hey, Frankie,” I said a moment later, as we headed out to the playground for break. “How did you get Emily to admit it?”

Frankie grinned. “I told her the school’d had hidden CCTV cameras fitted in the classrooms at half term – you know, like they have in shops to catch thieves.”

I gasped. “No! Seriously?”

Frankie nodded. “I said Pooley had seen the tape, but she was waiting for them to own up.” She giggled. “I can’t believe she fell for it!”

“I have seriously
got
to keep away from the M&Ms now,” I said. “If you see me going within a hundred miles of them, grab me.”

“Don’t worry,” said Frankie. “I’ll lock you in the stationery cupboard if I have to. And once
we get to Devon, even if they’re being totally annoying, I reckon there’s going to be loads to take our minds off them.”

And boy, was she right about
that
one!

“Sit down, everyone, so I can count you!”

Mrs Weaver had to yell above the noise. The whole class had piled on to the coach in a MEGA excited mood and people were bouncing up and down so much the coach was actually rocking.

“I’ve got buttons!” said Rosie, waving a bag of chocolates.

“I’ve got Pringles!” said Lyndz.

Fliss knelt up in her seat. “I only packed four
swimming costumes. Do you think that’ll be enough?”

“Fliss!” I yelped. “The rest of us only
own
one! How many does a girl need?”

As the coach pulled away we all waved like mad things. It’s funny – if I’d been going somewhere on my own for a week, I would’ve felt sad saying goodbye to Mum and Dad. But heading off with my friends didn’t worry me at all – I couldn’t wait for our majorly wicked holiday to begin.

There was only our class on the trip, but we had three teachers with us: Mrs Weaver (of course), Miss Walsh who usually teaches Year 5, and Mrs Daniels who usually teaches Year 4. They were sitting at the front near the driver, miles away from us, thank goodness.

Frankie was next to me, Rosie and Fliss had the seats behind us, and Lyndz had a double-seat all to herself across the gangway. Now Rosie stuck her face in the gap between our headrests. “Which first, guys – magazine or
choccies?” She was flapping a copy of
Mizz
, one of those really girlie mags that are filled with things about hair and make-up. Yawn! Luckily, I’d brought the latest Leicester City fanzine, so I pulled that out of my rucksack.

“I brought a puzzle book but it’s in my suitcase,” said Lyndz. Our suitcases were packed in a big compartment at the bottom of the coach.

As it turned out, though, we were far too excited to settle to reading anything. Instead, we played I-spy and scissors-paper-stone and took turns at trying on Fliss’s new sunglasses.

“Andy says they make me look like a film star,” said Fliss.

“Who? Tom Cruise?” I said, and she boffed me with the magazine.

It was a seriously long journey. After a few hours, we stopped at a picnic area and ate our sandwiches. Then it was back on to the stuffy coach. Frankie asked if the driver could put his radio on, and he said yes – way cool! When Will Young came on all the girls sang along
(yep, even me!) while all the boys made sicky noises. It was hilarious.

“I can see the sea!”

Simon Baxter had been saying that for hours, every time there was something sparkly in the distance. The first time he said it we hadn’t even left Leicestershire, I reckon, which is about as far from the sea as you can get.

This time, though, Frankie nudged me in the ribs. “Hey – he’s right!” she said, jabbing her finger on the window.

Suddenly, I was awake. Seeing the sea was always going to be exciting, but after hours and hours of boring motorways it was like a dream come true. It was only a shimmering strip on the horizon at first, but it got wider and wider as the road wound nearer to the water.

“Can’t they stop the coach so we can jump in right now?” sighed Lyndz.

“I can see people swimming!” said Rosie.

“Hey…” I pointed. “Isn’t that guy on the beach carrying a surfboard? Coo-
ell
!”

The road followed the edge of the sands for a while and then turned to the right, passing a sign saying “Welcome to Rawnston” and heading on through the little town. We still had our noses pressed to the window, and we saw loads of really cool-looking cafés with teenagers hanging around outside, dressed in excellent beach gear.

“They are seriously stylish,” said Frankie.

“We have
got
to check out the clothes shops here,” said Fliss. “I knew I should’ve brought more spending money.” Frankie and I rolled our eyes. Knowing Fliss, she probably had three times more than the rest of us anyway.

I flung the window open. “Oh wow – you can smell the sea!”

It was ten minutes later and we were bouncing around our room at the Beach Road Hostel. Thanks to Fliss, we’d managed to bag the only room in the house with five beds –
two sets of bunks and one single. (Her case had been so heavy the coach driver’d had to carry it in, leaving her free to dash round and find the best room. Result!)

Frankie was the last to arrive. “Sleepover Club HQ!” she yelled, plonking her case down and punching the air. “Hey – bags I get a top bunk!”

“Me too!” I said, racing over from the window and clambering up one of/ the ladders. Rosie dashed for the bunk beneath me and Lyndz grabbed the one below Frankie.

Fliss was left standing in the middle of the room. She shrugged. “I don’t like bunk beds anyway,” she said. “If I’m on a top bunk, I always think I’m going to fall out. And if I’m on the bottom, I think it’s going to collapse on me.”

“Oh thanks,” said Lyndz. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“All right in here?” Mrs Weaver popped her head round the door.

“Yes, Mrs Weaver!” we chorused.

“Come down to the dining room at six o’clock.
We’re going to explain how things will work this week and then we’ll have dinner. OK?”

The dining room was a bit like the one at school, with long tables and benches instead of chairs. When we went in, the teachers were standing at the front with an older boy and girl who looked just like the teenagers we’d seen hanging around the cafés in town.

“Who’re they?” hissed Rosie as we squashed together on one of the benches.

None of us had a clue. They both looked a bit grungy but really cool. They were tanned and their hair looked like they spent loads of time in the sun. The boy was wearing baggy shorts and a funky t-shirt, and the girl had on a short dress with cut-off leggings underneath. That probably sounds weird, but it looked really brilliant. She wore lots of bead bracelets and there were colours threaded through her hair.

“I’m Bethany and this is Aidan,” said the girl when everyone had sat down. “And we’re your Team Leaders for the week.”

“That means we’ll be helping with some of your activities,” said Aidan, “and we’ll be organising you into teams to take it in turns to cook dinner and wash up and stuff.”

You might’ve expected everyone to moan at the idea of washing up, but no one did. I reckon they thought even
that
would be cool with Bethany and Aidan.

“After dinner a choice of activities will be put up on the noticeboard,” said Miss Walsh. “When you’ve decided what you want to do, just write your name on the relevant list. The teams for cooking will be up on the board too. But tonight – since it’s our first night – Bethany and Aidan have kindly cooked for us!”

Everyone whooped and clapped at that. Bethany and Aidan went off to the kitchen and came back with enormous bowls of pasta and salad, which they passed round so that everyone could help themselves. I nudged Frankie and pointed at Fliss. She was watching Aidan with this dreamy, far-away expression on her face.

“Fliss is in
lurve
!” we said together and fell about laughing.

After dinner there was a big crush round the noticeboard as everyone tried to see the activity lists.

“There’s, er… beach volleyball,” said Frankie, standing on tiptoe. “And pony-trekking.”

“Ace!” said Lyndz.

“And…wait a sec…surfing.”

“Excellent!” I looked round at the others. “I vote for surfing. Definitely.”

Have you ever tried it? We did it once in Spain and it was totally brilliant, though I remember swallowing quite a lot of water.

“Surfing’s really tricky,” Fliss said, frowning. “In Spain we all fell off the whole time.”

“I know, but it was ace fun,” I said. “And we’ll get better at it, won’t we?”

“I want to do a pony-trek,” said Lyndz.

“But that’s the stuff you do at home, Lyndz!” said Frankie.

Lyndz shook her head. “The countryside’s
different round here, and the ponies will be different too.”

“Oh, but Lyndz…” I tugged at her sleeve in a pleading kind of way. “You can’t come to the seaside and then not do anything on the beach.”

Rosie said quickly, “Look. The notice says there’s another pony-trek later in the week. So why don’t we try surfing first, then sign up for a trek later?”

“OK.” Lyndz nodded.

Phew! I didn’t want us to have a barney on our first day.

“Well,
I
think we should do volleyball,” said Fliss firmly.

Aaargh!

Just then we heard a voice behind us. “All right, guys?” It was Aidan. He grinned. “Found something you’re interested in?”

Fliss just stared up at him like a love-struck puppy (it was dead embarrassing), but luckily Frankie jumped in and said, “We’re thinking of surfing, but we’re not sure…”

Aidan nodded and looked over his shoulder. Then he said, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but that’s the one I’d go for. Surfing is a total buzz. You’ll love it.”

Excellent! It was all I could do not to make a complete wally of myself and hug him.

“Do you surf, then?” asked Rosie.

Aidan nodded. “That’s why Bethany and I are here,” he said. “We’ve come to Rawnston for the summer to catch some waves – we’re just working at the hostel to pay for the surf-time.”

When he’d gone, I looked at Fliss. She pursed her lips, thinking. “I reckon maybe we should do the surfing,” she said. And we all burst out laughing.

What with the coach journey and all the excitement we were totally cream-crackered. We’d planned to switch our torches on after lights out and tell one another stories, but even before Mrs Daniels came round to check we were in bed, everyone was yawning so much it looked like a major fly-catching competition.

“We’ve got to plan our midnight feast,” said Rosie sleepily.

“Do you reckon Aidan will be our surfing teacher?” came Fliss’s voice through the dark.

Everyone giggled.

“Goodnight, guys,” said Frankie.

“Night,” I mumbled dozily. “This week…it’s going to be amazing.”

And I was right. But you know what? I would never in a million years have guessed just
how
amazing it was going to turn out to be.