voice of doom, like shewas announcing the end of the world.
I had to turn my yelp of laughter into a cough. “Oh, um, dear,” I said. “Is it a problem?”
“That’s only the biggest understatement of the year!” wailed Fliss. “We’re going to have to fly out on the last day of term. I won’t be able to go to the party. We’ll all have to pull out of the competition. Sleepoverbabes is officially cancelled!”
Friends are tricky, sometimes. I always think it’s odd how someone you really, really like can make you so cross that for a moment you even feel you hate them. Or, sometimes, a friend thinks something you just don’t agree with – but even though you know they’re being silly, you can kind of see how they feel at the same time. Do you know what I mean?
That was what it was like at school the next week with Fliss. She was really upset that the rest of us were going ahead with the competition without her.
“What do you expect us to do?” said Kenny. “All go into mourning cos you’re off on some swanky holiday?”
“Yes,” said Fliss stubbornly. “I didn’t ask to go.”
“We’d much rather you were there,” said Lyndz soothingly. “Of course we would. It won’t be the same without you.”
“I can’t believe you’re just going to carry on, like you don’t care!” Fliss’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, get over it,” said Kenny bluntly. I could see she’d lost all patience with Fliss.
We were in an Art lesson, working on our decorations for the school hall. Of course, since the decorations were for the party, that was what was on everyone’s mind. I could see that for Fliss, it kind of rubbed salt in the wound, as my mum would say. But at the same time I agreed with Kenny. Why did Fliss expect us to bin all our hard work and miss out on the fun of the dance competition just because she was off having an ace time skiing and staying in a posh hotel?
Still, I was trying to keep out of the argument. Ireckoned I’d caused enough trouble, throwing that strop at Lyndz’s house. I kept my head down and concentrated on my paper lantern. I was painting it red, with yellow blobs round the edges. In the middle of the yellow blobs I was going to stick scrunched up cellophane sweet wrappers, to look like jewels. It was going to be cool.
“Mum said I could have an extra-special sleepover, to make up for missing the party,” said Fliss. “But I’m not sure I want to invite any of you to it, any more.”
“Fine,” muttered Kenny. “Won’t be much of a sleepover on your own.”
But a minute later Lyndz said gently, “A sleepover would be so great, Fliss. What kind were you planning? Was it going to have a theme?”
Fliss nodded, smiling despite herself. “Mum came up with it.”
“What is it?” I asked.
Now Fliss looked positively excited. “Grease,” she said.
“Grease?” said Kenny. “What d’you mean?Engine oil? Chip fat? What’re you talking about?”
“Not grease,” said Fliss. “ Grease . You know, that film with John Travolta.”
“Never heard of it,” said Kenny.
“It is quite old,” said Frankie. “But it’s cool. Me and Mum got it out from Blockbusters once.”
“It’s set in this American high school in the Fifties,” explained Fliss.
“Prehis to ric,” said Kenny.
Fliss took no notice. I could see she was really into the idea. “There are these different gangs,” she said. “The girls are called the Pink Ladies and they have pink jackets with writing on the back, and they are so cool—”
“And the songs are good, too,” put in Frankie, dabbling her paintbrush in the water jar.
“Anyhow, my mum said we can have all-American food, like popcorn and hot dogs and milkshakes and stuff,” said Fliss.
“Yummy!” said Lyndz.
“That’s more like it!” Kenny said, looking brighter.
“And we all have to dress up,” Fliss added.
“Well, I’m gonna need some help,” said Kenny. “Since I still don’t have a clue what
Learning to Kill: Stories