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right,” Frankie nodded.

      “Anyway, as I was saying,” continued Fliss. “Ten’s an important number, isn’t it? We ought to have a special sleepover to celebrate.”

      Yeah. One-nil! For once, Fliss was right. If we had a sleepover to plan, we couldn’t get bored. Especially when it was a special birthday sleepover.

      We all felt pretty excited and you know how hyper we can get. We all started talking at once, and laughing and doing high fives as though we’d all just won Olympic medals or something. Somehow I don’t think we would have been so enthusiastic if we had known then what trouble this tenth sleepover was going to cause.

      The thing is that we’re all so different. And I know that that’s a good thing, even though it has caused problems in the past. But we always managed to sort them out. And anyway, for our normal sleepovers we just sort of go with the flow, because it’s the sleepover that matters and not really what we do there. But for this tenth birthday sleepover, boy did things get out of hand! It was like it wasn’t just a sleepover anymore it was some major celebration. We all got very selfish and only wanted to do what we wanted to do. Crazy I know. I think we all went a little bit mad for a while.

      “We should have a proper party, a dressed-up party, with music and dancing and a proper meal and maybe a marquee and…” said Fliss excitedly.

      “What planet are you on Fliss?” I asked. “A marquee? The nearest you’ll ever get to a marquee is the tent you sleep in at Brownie camp!”

      “Alright Kenny Clever Clogs, what do you think we should do for the sleepover?” Fliss snapped back. She had those bright-red patches on her cheeks, which is never a good sign.

      “What about a day out at one of those paintball courses?”

      The others all groaned.

      “You only want to do that because you know you’d win. This has to be something special for all of us you know.” I was surprised when Frankie said that. Us being best mates and everything.

      “Alright then, what did you have in mind?” I asked.

      “What about a children’s party, with silly games and jelly and ice-cream, and balloons…”

      “Don’t you think we’re a bit old for that?” asked Lyndz.

      “That’s the point,” sighed Frankie, coming over all grown-up. “We don’t have parties like that anymore because we think we’re too old, but I think they’re kind of fun.”

      “Oh please Frankie,” moaned Fliss. “Everybody’d laugh at us if they ever found out!”

      “What about going out to the cinema and having a pizza or something,” asked Rosie.

      “Bor-ing!” the rest of us sang together.

      “I was only trying to help!” mumbled Rosie. “I know when I’m not wanted. I might as well go home.”

      She started walking towards the gate. The rest of us just watched her go. Then we all turned on each other.

      “Now see what you’ve done!”

      “What I’ve done. It was your fault.”

      “You always think you know best don’t you?”

      And before we knew where we were, we were all yelling at each other. And I mean really yelling. That’s when it looked like the Sleepover Club would never even reach it’s tenth birthday!

      

      So, it was the summer holidays. We were bored. But now the Sleepover Club couldn’t even be bored together because we weren’t speaking to each other. Crazy hah?

      I bet you’ve done that too haven’t you? I mean, I bet you’ve fallen out with your friends over something really small and stupid. Only it seems really important at the time. It’s only later that you realise how dumb the whole thing is. But by then it’s too late. The damage is done.

      It was awful. I felt totally miserable without the others. But somehow I just couldn’t do anything about it. It hadn’t been my fault that we’d fallen out in the first place, so why should I be the one to make up? Of course, if we’d all thought like that we would never have spoken to each other again. Frankie and I usually phone each other about a million times a day and we tell each other everything. When we fell out, we didn’t speak for three days. Mum is always saying that I can never admit when I’m in the wrong, and I guess that’s true.

      Looking back it seems stupid that we let everything get so out of hand. But we have our diaries to remind us how awful we felt when we thought the Sleepover Club was about to split up.

      I wrote:

       If Fliss hadn’t thought of having a tenth birthday sleepover party, we’d still all be speaking now. It looks like I’ll be stuck with Molly-the-Monster all holidays. Pass the sick bucket! I wish we were going to stay with grandpa and grandma McKenzie now, rather than later in the holidays. At least I wouldn’t be bored there. I’m bored bored BORED here without the others.

      Frankie wrote in her diary:

       Why is it we never agree on anything? If only we could have decided to have a normal party, then none of this would have happened. I don’t see what was so wrong with my idea anyway. The others just don’t like to do anything different. Well I’m not making the first move to get the Sleepover Club back together. I always end up having to organise everybody. And I’m sick of it.

      Fliss wrote in hers:

       Went shopping with mum today. She bought me a great pair of shorts and some yellow nail varnish. They’re well cool! She said they were to cheer me up, but they haven’t. I still miss the others.

      Rosie scribbled in her diary:

      I’m never going to make any friends again. Nobody likes me. Belonging to the Sleepover Club was great and now I’m not sure whether there’s even going to be one any more. (You couldn’t read what else she’d written because the writing was all smudged where she’d cried over it. Breaks your heart doesn’t it?)

      Lyndz had just written:

       Can’t stand this anymore. I’m going to ring the others up and get them to meet round here tonight.

      And that’s just what she did.

      It felt a bit weird at first going round to Lyndz’s, knowing that there was this big ‘thing’ between us. We were just so polite with each other. It was as though some crummy old soap opera characters had taken over our bodies and we were sitting around discussing the price of tea or something. It was Frankie who sorted us all out – as usual.

      “Look,” she said in her grown-up tone of voice. “I’m sorry if I was stroppy the other day. I don’t really mind what kind of party we have, as long as we all agree on it.” The rest of us mumbled that that was how we felt too. We all looked at the floor, as though our feet were suddenly the most fascinating things in the world.

      Suddenly, Lyndz leapt on to her bed and started bouncing on it.

      “Come on guys!” she yelled at the top of her voice. “It’s party time!” Yep! The Sleepover Club was back together. And just to prove it, Lyndz got hiccups.

      “You do realise don’t you, that we’re the only people in the entire universe who know how to stop you making that appalling noise!” I said, as I dug Lyndz hard in the ribs. A shock like that sometimes does the trick.

      “Ouch Kenny!” Lyndz doubled over. “Why do you think I got you all round here? Hic.”

      “Without us, you’d probably

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