LITMIR.BIZ

      Now, where shall I start? I probably need to go way back, before the Sleepover Club even existed and tell you how we all came to be best friends – and sworn enemies of the gruesome M&Ms.

      In the very beginning there were just two of us: Me, Francesca Theresa Thomas – Frankie to all my friends (which of course means you) – and my best mate Kenny. Her real name’s Laura McKenzie, but everyone calls her Kenny – if they know what’s good for them! We met at playschool when we were three years old. Kenny came flying down the slide and smashed right into the back of me. I was so mad, until I saw her cheeky grin and heard her say, “Hey, soz, didn’t see you there,” which was pretty unbelievable, because even then I was big for my age. But I couldn’t stay angry with Kenny for long and it’s been like that ever since.

      Sometimes in drama lessons we do this exercise where we have to describe a character we’re playing as if they’re a piece of fruit or… a piece of furniture. For example, if I were a piece of furniture, I’d be this a-mazing chair I once saw in a museum. It looked Egyptian; it was like a huge throne, with carved wooden legs with cats’ heads on them. It wasn’t what you’d call comfortable, but dead cool. I would kill to have it in my bedroom.

      Kenny would be a chair too, but one of those office chairs. You know, the type that goes up and down and round in circles and given the slightest encouragement charges across the room at forty miles an hour skittling everything in its path. It would be blue and white, which are Leicester City Football Club colours, because Kenny is their biggest fan. And it would probably be waving a scarf and cheering!

      We met Lyndz, Lyndsey Collins, when we were five and went to Cuddington County Primary School. If Lyndz were a chair she’d be soft and cozy, the most comfy armchair in the world. Imagine your favourite place to cuddle up and watch TV, or read a book – that’s Lyndz.

      I know everyone says threes don’t work – someone’s bound to end up left out and feeling jealous – but Lyndz doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body so we all got on just fine. In class, if ever we had to work in pairs, Lyndz would choose some Billy-no-mates to work with. Lyndz has this big heart, so big you could probably float the whole of Leicester on it.

      One of the people she sometimes took pity on was Fliss, full name: Felicity Diana Sidebotham. Fliss is definitely not a chair. She’d be more like one of those fancy curved dressing tables. You know the kind, with pink curtains underneath and frills and tassels. Fliss is a very pink person.

      It’s hard to imagine now, but in those days she was a bit of a Felicity-no-mates. She was a bit shy and a bit girly for Kenny’s taste. But when the M&Ms started their Campaign of Terror, well, we had to do something, didn’t we?

      The M&Ms’ real names are Emma Hughes and Emily Berryman – sometimes known as The Queen and the Goblin or The Gruesome Twosome. The M&Ms would have been our enemies, even if they’d never done anything to us, just because they’re the most disgusting, sneaky, stuck up goody-goodies in the entire history of the universe and beyond. And, no, I’m not exaggerating!

      If the M&Ms were pieces of furniture they’d probably be matching gold mirrors, like the one in Snow White. If you asked them, “Who is the fairest of us all?” they’d scream back at you, “We are, of course, you idiot!”

      One of the most irritating things about the M&Ms is that they always have to be top of everything and bosses of the class. If there’s ever a competition with a prize to win, somehow they always manage to win it.

      But worse than that: their idea of fun is to pick on people who can’t stick up for themselves. And one of those people was Fliss.

      Fliss really cares about her appearance and – how can I put this – well, she’s pretty vain. So, when the M&Ms stuck chewing gum in her long blonde hair, squirted tomato ketchup – accidentally on purpose – down her designer T-shirt and put hamster droppings in the pocket of her new, very expensive Bennetton jacket… and then squashed them, Fliss almost had a nervous breakdown.

      As if all that wasn’t enough, they started to give her the Smile Treatment. Believe me, there is nothing more unpleasant than being smiled at by those two muppets. Whenever Fliss glanced up from her work one of them was already looking in her direction, smiling. She’d nudge the other one and they’d both smile, as if to say, “Wait till you see what we’ve got planned for you!”

      In no time Fliss was a complete designer bag of nerves. Her mum, Nicky, told us later she’d been having trouble getting Fliss to school for weeks. She’d even threatened to run away which was a big thing for Fliss, because camping is on her list of Least Favourite Things to do Before I Die.

      Anyway, when Lyndz found her crying one day in the toilets at school she came straight back and told us.

      “I think we should let Fliss sit with us in class,” she said. “I feel sooo…”

      “…sorry for her,” Kenny and I joined in. That could be Lyndz’s theme tune.

      “Well, I do,” she insisted.

      At first, we weren’t exactly sympathetic, because as Kenny said, “It doesn’t take a lot to get Fliss crying.” But once we’d heard the full list of things those two gonks had been up to, even Kenny said, “OK, now I feel sorry for her.”

      So for the next week the four of us sat together in lessons and it was OK. If any bits of bother broke out between Kenny and Fliss, Lyndz launched one of

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