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“Can’t you two kiddies go and play somewhere else? I’m trying to get my things packed!”
Honestly. You could tell Molly hadn’t stayed the night with anyone for years. She had two sets of pyjamas on the bed, three pairs of socks and four different T-shirts – she looked as if she was going away for weeks! I could have told her all she needed was a toothbrush and something to sleep in, but I didn’t. I pulled Frankie out of the room and we went down to the kitchen. It looked cleaner and tidier than usual; the floor was positively gleaming! A note from Mum lay on the table:
CAKE IN TIN. DON’T MAKE A MESS –
NEW NEIGHBOUR COMING IN FOR TEA.
“Ace!” Frankie said. “I love your mum’s cakes.” She went to the tin and got the cake out while I found us some coke.
“We might as well eat down here,” I said. “With any luck Molly will be gone soon – and then we can really get busy. I haven’t made the slime jelly yet.”
“OK.” Frankie cut two huge slices of Mum’s cake. It was chocolate – and one of her very best. The icing was thick and gooey, and the cake was soft and squidgey. Awesome!
We were cutting ourselves a second piece when the doorbell rang.
Frankie jumped up. “That might be for me!” she said, and we both raced for the door.
Frankie’s mum was standing outside, and she was holding two big cardboard boxes.
Frankie let out a loud whoop and rushed towards her. “Mum! You’re a star!”
“I know.” Frankie’s mum smiled, and handed one box to Frankie, and the other to me. “But don’t think I’m going to make a habit of running round after you! Have a good time – and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Quick,” Frankie said, as her mum hurried back to the car. “We’ve got to get these in your freezer!”
“What are they?” I asked, puzzled.
“I’ll show you when we’re inside,” Frankie said. “But they’ll have started melting on the way over, so hurry up and open the front door!”
“It is open—” I began, and then I saw that it wasn’t. It must have swung shut while we were talking to Frankie’s mum.
We looked at each other in horror for a second, and then I remembered. “It’s all right,” I said. “Molly’s in.”
I put the box down and rang the doorbell like crazy. Nothing happened at first, so I rang even harder and started hammering on the door.
At last Molly heard me, but she didn’t come to the door. She opened the window upstairs and leant out.
“Who is it?” she called, sounding very nervous. “Why are you making so much noise? My dad’s here! He’s very angry!”
I stood back so she could see me. “Molly! It’s me! Open the door! And hurry up about it!”
I can’t believe Molly sometimes. She is so mean. Of course any normal, decent person would have come and opened the door if they saw their sister stuck outside. But, as you know, Molly isn’t a normal, decent person and she didn’t – she just stared at me.
“What are you doing out there?” she asked.
“Just open the door!” I yelled.
Frankie was peering into the box she was holding, looking anxious. A trickle of something red was creeping out of the bottom.
“I’m busy,” Molly said, and would you believe it? She slammed the window shut and disappeared.
I jammed my finger on the doorbell so it sounded like a fire alarm – but it didn’t make any difference. My horrible ghastly monster sister just ignored it.
“Can’t we get in through the back door?” Frankie asked.
We rushed round the side of the house, but the back door was firmly locked. We tried every window, and I even attempted climbing up a drainpipe – but it was useless. Our house was like a super-safe prison – and we were on the outside.
I shook my head gloomily, as we walked back round to the front. “It’s no good,” I said. “It’s because of all the burglaries. Before Dad went out he told me and Mum to keep everything triple locked. And I know all the downstairs windows are shut because I locked them myself.”
“Fantastic,” said Frankie, and she sat down on the front step. I gave the doorbell one last punch. It gave a weird clunk, and stopped ringing. When I tried again, nothing happened.
“Well, that’s blown it,” I said, and sat on the step beside Frankie. The trickle of red from the box was longer now. It looked exactly like blood, and I stared at it.
“Frankie – what exactly is in these boxes?”
Frankie sighed heavily. “It was the best thing ever. Look!” And she opened the first box. Inside was something that looked exactly like a head with pale green sightless eyes gazing up at me. Well, it was almost like a head, but a head that was getting softer and squishier by the second.
“Wow!” I gasped. “Sculpted ice cream. It’s utterly awesome!”
“It was,” Frankie said. “I spent hours on it. The eyes are grapes, by the way… they’re probably all that’ll be left soon.”
“What’s in the other box?” I asked, and she opened the lid. Inside was a plate with a melting block of – frozen blood?
“It’s beetroot and raspberries mashed up,” Frankie said, and she sounded even more gloomy. “I was going to mash it some more and put the head on it… but it’s ruined now.”
“I’ll kill Molly,” I said.
“Maybe we could put her head on the plate,” Frankie said, but at that moment it didn’t sound much like a joke.
Suddenly I sat up. I’d thought of something to make us feel more cheerful. “Hey,” I said, “Molly’s going to be in mega trouble with Mum for shutting us out! It’s all Molly’s fault that this has happened.”
“Yeah,” Frankie agreed, and we both felt a tiny bit better.
We sat on the step for at least ten minutes watching Frankie’s ice-cream head gradually dissolve. Actually, after two minutes we gave in and ate some of it. After all, we couldn’t let it go to waste, could we? But it wasn’t long before it was just a soggy mess with the two grapes swimming in the middle.
“Do you think we’d better move the other box?” Frankie asked. “It seems to have made a bit of a mess.”
I looked across, and she was right. The blood mixture was dripping all the way down the steps. “Hmm,” I said. “It’s a pity we can’t leave it like that. It’d be a great entrance for the others – blood on the doorstep!”
Frankie laughed, but we both knew my mum wouldn’t agree with us. Mums are so boring when it comes to things like blood.
“Hey, Frankie!” I leapt to my feet. I’d suddenly had an amazing flash of inspiration. “We could still use it! We could make a trail of blood drops!”
Frankie’s eyes shone. “Wicked! A trail of gruesome spots leads the detectives in and out of the bushes and trees. In and out they hurried, until they found—”
“A body!” We both yelled together, and then we collapsed, laughing.
We did a fantastic job – we made the most life-like trail of blood you ever saw. It started just round the corner of the house, because I didn’t want Mum telling us to wash it away before we’d shown Rosie, Lyndz and Fliss. We started with a few drops, and then a few more – and then a big puddle. Actually, we didn’t mean to make it quite so big but the plate slipped.
Frankie said it didn’t matter. “We can pretend that’s where the victim tried to pull the knife out of his back,” she said.
It looked wonderfully ghoulish.
We put a few more drops on the bushes, but there wasn’t much mixture left to do anything else.
“We ought to make a body, and half-hide it under the bushes,” I said.
Frankie nodded. “Or we could just leave half a body!”
You can see why Frankie’s my very best friend. She likes blood and gore as much as I do!
After we’d finished the blood trail we took both boxes round the back of the house and dumped them in the bin. Quite a lot of the melted ice cream dribbled out on the way, but there wasn’t anything we could do about it. We couldn’t get back into the house to fetch any buckets of water or anything like that. If anyone said anything, it was all Molly’s fault.
As we wandered back to the front door Mum came walking up the path with some strange woman beside her – our new neighbour!
“This is our house,” Mum was saying. “It’s—” And then she saw us. Her jaw did the thunking open thing mine’s been doing for days, but the woman screamed. She really did! And she clutched at my mum!
Mum is made of steel. She put her jaw back in place, and glared at me. “Is this your idea of a Friday 13th joke?” she began. “Just look at the state you’re both in!”
She was right. Frankie and I did look rather gruesome. I suppose the beetroot mixture had got all over us while we were laying our trail.
“Mum,” I said. “Mum, it really and truly isn’t our fault – we got locked out and Molly wouldn’t let us back in!”
By the time we’d finished explaining what had happened, Mum was steaming mad with Molly, just as we’d hoped.
“That’s it!” she said. “There’s no way that young lady’s going out tonight. She’s grounded!”
Frankie and I gasped. That wasn’t part of the plan. Mum couldn’t do that – not tonight!
But she did. Even though I begged her not to. Even though Frankie begged her not to. We pleaded. We said it was all our fault. But it was no use. The new neighbour didn’t help, either. She kept going on about how dangerous it was, us two little girlies being outside with a manic burglar tramping round the area. That made up Mum’s mind. Molly was not going anywhere that night.
Frankie and I made faces at each other as we tipped soapy water over the front steps.
“If only the door hadn’t shut,” I said. “That was so unlucky.”
Frankie nodded. “Friday 13th,” she said. “Bad luck day!”
And it was only just beginning…
(#ulink_ad0106df-f243-597b-a3af-188d23cdb536)
Mum realised how unfair it was that Molly being grounded had ruined our plans for the sleepover, so to make it up to us she said we could have the sleepover in Emma’s room – as long as we promised to be careful and not spoil anything.
But thanks to Molly the Monster we were only just getting ready to make our scary noises tape when Rosie arrived. We didn’t hear her, of course, because of the doorbell not working and Emma’s room being at the back of the house, so Molly came and told us Rosie had arrived. No, she wasn’t being nice to us. She was just being a creep because Mum had been so angry with her.
We both charged past Molly and rushed downstairs to see Rosie. Her bowl of spaghetti was super mega gross! It was a sort of horrible grey colour, and the currants looked exactly like dead flies… or even worse! We shoved it in the fridge, and dragged Rosie upstairs to help with the tape.
Emma has this totally fabulous stereo with a proper microphone and two tape decks, so we made one tape and then added more and more horrible noises on top. And we weren’t spoiling anything that belonged to Emma: I was using all my own tapes. We were just borrowing her equipment.
Rosie whispered into the microphone, and Frankie did her best ever ghostly wails. I squeaked the door and moaned and groaned. Then we discovered that if we went a bit further away we could make it sound more echoey, so we opened the door and Rosie and I went down the stairs to make hollow footsteps.
Frankie waited until we were in position, and then switched on the microphone. As we stamped up the stairs she stamped down, making the most creepy ghastly chuckles. We were really enjoying ourselves, and Rosie was doing one final hideous cackle when—
Bang! Molly came storming out of her room.
“Can’t you kids shut up?” she screeched. “You don’t need to play your silly games on the stairs! It’s bad enough having you shrieking and yelling in poor Emma’s room!”
Of course the microphone recorded it all. We didn’t bother answering her – we flew back to turn the microphone off, and then we slammed Emma’s door.
“Doom and Disaster!” I said.
“Let’s play it back,” Frankie suggested. “Maybe Molly sounds like a hideous awful witch.”
Rosie and I giggled, and we rewound the tape and pressed Play.
It was the most fantastical ghoulish tape ever – until Molly came on. She did sound dreadful. But not much like a witch.
“Shall we tape over it?” Rosie asked.
“No – let’s leave it!” I said. “We’ll tell Lyndz and Fliss we’ve got the only recording ever made of a horrible monster!”
We were in the kitchen making the green slime when Fliss and Lyndz arrived. Fliss knocked so politely we didn’t hear her, but Lyndz gave the letter box a real hammering.
“Great!” I said when we were all in the kitchen. “The Sleepover Club’s in action again! And we’ve got some real surprises for you… especially in the garden!”
Fliss was looking anxious already. She kept peering over her shoulder and jumping at the slightest noise, and now she gave a little squeak. “My mum says we’re all to stay indoors,” she said. “She says you don’t know who might be watching the house to see if it’s a good moment to get in.”
I caught Frankie’s eye, and we both burst out laughing.
Fliss went very pink. “It’s nothing to laugh about,” she said.
“No,” I said, “it’s not that – we’re laughing because Frankie and I spent hours outside today trying to get in and we couldn’t! This house has to be the most burglar-proof house in the whole world!”
“Oh,” Fliss said, and she began to look a bit better.
Then Frankie and I told the others about how Molly had refused to let us in and how Frankie’s ice-cream head had been ruined.
When they’d heard the whole story, that settled it. We all made a vow of terrible revenge.
“We could haunt her all night,” Frankie suggested.
“How about making her an apple-pie bed?” Lyndz giggled.
“Maybe we could tap on her window!” Rosie said.
Fliss went twitchy again. “But then we’d have to go outside!”
“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something! “I said, then I decided to change the subject. “Can we see your cake, Fliss?”
