too. “It must just be that there aren’t so many street lights, so you can see more.”
Then we talked about Aidan, Bethany and Jude, and had a complete giggling fit about all the rude things we’d say to Rude Jude if we got the chance.
“I’d tell him he’s a ssssnotty sssaddo!” spluttered Rosie, spraying out biscuit crumbs with every “s”.
“With rancid custard for brains!” added Lyndz.
“I’d tell him he should hang out with the M&Ms,” said Fliss. “He’s just about their level.”
“Rude Jude, Crude Jude, Booed Jude, Moody Jude…” said Frankie.
“Pooed Jude!” I put in. Lyndz, who’d just taken a great big swig of orangeade, burst out laughing and sprayed the orangeade all over Rosie. Rosie shrieked.
“Hey, not so loud!” hissed Frankie urgently, clamping her finger to her lips. Instantly, we all turned ultra-serious, holding our breath and looking towards the house. I was convinced we were going to see a light switch on at any moment.
Ten seconds passed.
Then twenty.
Nothing happened.
“Phew, that was close,” said Lyndz, relaxing again. “Sorry, Rosie.”
“It’s OK,” said Rosie. Lyndz pulled off her sweatshirt and wiped the worst of the orangeade out of Rosie’s hair.
“I hope we get to go shopping this week,” said Fliss when we’d calmed down a bit. “I wantto find out where Bethany gets her clothes.”
A few minutes later Frankie said, “Hey – let’s take it in turns to tell ghost stories!”
“No,” said Rosie firmly. “Unless you want me to start really screaming.”
Fliss knelt up and put her hands on her bottom. “I thought so,” she said. “This grass is damp. And is anyone else cold or is it just me?”
“I’m freezing, actually,” admitted Lyndz.
“Maybe it’s time to go back,” said Frankie.
“Make sure we’ve got every scrap of rubbish,” I said as we began tidying up. “We mustn’t leave any evidence.”
At last, with all our bits and pieces stuffed back into our bags, and with our torches in our hands, we set off again across the garden, Rosie leading the way. Suddenly, my stomach lurched with worry: what if someone woke up and caught us at the last minute – when we were so nearly home and dry? It would be just our luck. By now, Rosie was standing in the flowerbed, fumbling with the window.
“Come on!” I whispered urgently. “Hurry up!”
“But – but I can’t,” stammered Rosie.
“Don’t be silly – you managed on the way out. Just sit on the sill…”
“No, it’s not that,” said Rosie. “It’s the window. It’s shut.”
“ What? ”
“It can’t be!”
“Are you sure it’s the right window?”
“Yes! Look!”
I pushed ahead of Rosie and looked for myself.
“What are we going to do?” said Fliss.
“It’s spooky,” whispered Lyndz. “It’s as if someone’s been watching us. They saw us come out here and now they’ve shut the window so we can’t get back.”
“Don’t be silly,” hissed Frankie. “If anyone knew we were here, they’d come and tell us off, wouldn’t they? Either that or rat on us.” She shook her head. “One of the teachers probably got up to go to the loo or get a drink of water or something, noticed the window was open and shut it. That’s all.”
“Well, never mind who shut it, it’s shut – that’s the problem,” I said. “So how are we going to get back in?”
“We won’t have to spend all night out here, will we?” said Fliss, her teeth beginning to chatter. “We’ll freeze.”
“There’s nothing else for it – we’ll have to break the glass,” said Lyndz.
“What – wake everyone up and make them think they’re being burgled?” I said. “Just think how much trouble we’d get into! They’d probably call the police.”
“Maybe we could throw bits of gravel at someone’s bedroom window,” suggested Rosie. “Just enough to wake them up. Someonewho’d help us without telling the teachers.”
There was silence for a
Then we talked about Aidan, Bethany and Jude, and had a complete giggling fit about all the rude things we’d say to Rude Jude if we got the chance.
“I’d tell him he’s a ssssnotty sssaddo!” spluttered Rosie, spraying out biscuit crumbs with every “s”.
“With rancid custard for brains!” added Lyndz.
“I’d tell him he should hang out with the M&Ms,” said Fliss. “He’s just about their level.”
“Rude Jude, Crude Jude, Booed Jude, Moody Jude…” said Frankie.
“Pooed Jude!” I put in. Lyndz, who’d just taken a great big swig of orangeade, burst out laughing and sprayed the orangeade all over Rosie. Rosie shrieked.
“Hey, not so loud!” hissed Frankie urgently, clamping her finger to her lips. Instantly, we all turned ultra-serious, holding our breath and looking towards the house. I was convinced we were going to see a light switch on at any moment.
Ten seconds passed.
Then twenty.
Nothing happened.
“Phew, that was close,” said Lyndz, relaxing again. “Sorry, Rosie.”
“It’s OK,” said Rosie. Lyndz pulled off her sweatshirt and wiped the worst of the orangeade out of Rosie’s hair.
“I hope we get to go shopping this week,” said Fliss when we’d calmed down a bit. “I wantto find out where Bethany gets her clothes.”
A few minutes later Frankie said, “Hey – let’s take it in turns to tell ghost stories!”
“No,” said Rosie firmly. “Unless you want me to start really screaming.”
Fliss knelt up and put her hands on her bottom. “I thought so,” she said. “This grass is damp. And is anyone else cold or is it just me?”
“I’m freezing, actually,” admitted Lyndz.
“Maybe it’s time to go back,” said Frankie.
“Make sure we’ve got every scrap of rubbish,” I said as we began tidying up. “We mustn’t leave any evidence.”
At last, with all our bits and pieces stuffed back into our bags, and with our torches in our hands, we set off again across the garden, Rosie leading the way. Suddenly, my stomach lurched with worry: what if someone woke up and caught us at the last minute – when we were so nearly home and dry? It would be just our luck. By now, Rosie was standing in the flowerbed, fumbling with the window.
“Come on!” I whispered urgently. “Hurry up!”
“But – but I can’t,” stammered Rosie.
“Don’t be silly – you managed on the way out. Just sit on the sill…”
“No, it’s not that,” said Rosie. “It’s the window. It’s shut.”
“ What? ”
“It can’t be!”
“Are you sure it’s the right window?”
“Yes! Look!”
I pushed ahead of Rosie and looked for myself.
“What are we going to do?” said Fliss.
“It’s spooky,” whispered Lyndz. “It’s as if someone’s been watching us. They saw us come out here and now they’ve shut the window so we can’t get back.”
“Don’t be silly,” hissed Frankie. “If anyone knew we were here, they’d come and tell us off, wouldn’t they? Either that or rat on us.” She shook her head. “One of the teachers probably got up to go to the loo or get a drink of water or something, noticed the window was open and shut it. That’s all.”
“Well, never mind who shut it, it’s shut – that’s the problem,” I said. “So how are we going to get back in?”
“We won’t have to spend all night out here, will we?” said Fliss, her teeth beginning to chatter. “We’ll freeze.”
“There’s nothing else for it – we’ll have to break the glass,” said Lyndz.
“What – wake everyone up and make them think they’re being burgled?” I said. “Just think how much trouble we’d get into! They’d probably call the police.”
“Maybe we could throw bits of gravel at someone’s bedroom window,” suggested Rosie. “Just enough to wake them up. Someonewho’d help us without telling the teachers.”
There was silence for a
Similar Books
