Hit the Beach!. Harriet Castor

I can go!”

      “Yeeesssss!”

      For ages we were one big jumping, hugging bundle. Then I did high fives with everyone in turn. “Thank you sooo much, guys,” I said. “I owe you, big time!”

      “Well, we couldn’t really go without you, could we?” said Rosie.

      “Not if it was going to make you so grumpy!” laughed Lyndz.

      “I can’t believe it,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s going to be the most awesome week ever!”

      “Swimming in the sea!” said Rosie, bouncing up and down.

      “Donkey rides!” said Lyndz.

      Fliss clapped her hands. “I’ll have to buy a new sunhat!”

      “Only one?” laughed Frankie.

      “Hey, Frankie,” I said a moment later, as we headed out to the playground for break. “How did you get Emily to admit it?”

      Frankie grinned. “I told her the school’d had hidden CCTV cameras fitted in the classrooms at half term – you know, like they have in shops to catch thieves.”

      I gasped. “No! Seriously?”

      Frankie nodded. “I said Pooley had seen the tape, but she was waiting for them to own up.” She giggled. “I can’t believe she fell for it!”

      “I have seriously got to keep away from the M&Ms now,” I said. “If you see me going within a hundred miles of them, grab me.”

      “Don’t worry,” said Frankie. “I’ll lock you in the stationery cupboard if I have to. And once we get to Devon, even if they’re being totally annoying, I reckon there’s going to be loads to take our minds off them.”

      And boy, was she right about that one!

      

      “Sit down, everyone, so I can count you!”

      Mrs Weaver had to yell above the noise. The whole class had piled on to the coach in a MEGA excited mood and people were bouncing up and down so much the coach was actually rocking.

      “I’ve got buttons!” said Rosie, waving a bag of chocolates.

      “I’ve got Pringles!” said Lyndz.

      Fliss knelt up in her seat. “I only packed four swimming costumes. Do you think that’ll be enough?”

      “Fliss!” I yelped. “The rest of us only own one! How many does a girl need?”

      As the coach pulled away we all waved like mad things. It’s funny – if I’d been going somewhere on my own for a week, I would’ve felt sad saying goodbye to Mum and Dad. But heading off with my friends didn’t worry me at all – I couldn’t wait for our majorly wicked holiday to begin.

      There was only our class on the trip, but we had three teachers with us: Mrs Weaver (of course), Miss Walsh who usually teaches Year 5, and Mrs Daniels who usually teaches Year 4. They were sitting at the front near the driver, miles away from us, thank goodness.

      Frankie was next to me, Rosie and Fliss had the seats behind us, and Lyndz had a double-seat all to herself across the gangway. Now Rosie stuck her face in the gap between our headrests. “Which first, guys – magazine or choccies?” She was flapping a copy of Mizz, one of those really girlie mags that are filled with things about hair and make-up. Yawn! Luckily, I’d brought the latest Leicester City fanzine, so I pulled that out of my rucksack.

      “I brought a puzzle book but it’s in my suitcase,” said Lyndz. Our suitcases were packed in a big compartment at the bottom of the coach.

      As it turned out, though, we were far too excited to settle to reading anything. Instead, we played I-spy and scissors-paper-stone and took turns at trying on Fliss’s new sunglasses.

      “Andy says they make me look like a film star,” said Fliss.

      “Who? Tom Cruise?” I said, and she boffed me with the magazine.

      It was a seriously long journey. After a few hours, we stopped at a picnic area and ate our sandwiches. Then it was back on to the stuffy coach. Frankie asked if the driver could put his radio on, and he said yes – way cool! When Will Young came on all the girls sang along (yep, even me!) while all the boys made sicky noises. It was hilarious.

      “I can see the sea!”

      Simon Baxter had been saying that for hours, every time there was something sparkly in the distance. The first time he said it we hadn’t even left Leicestershire, I reckon, which is about as far from the sea as you can get.

      This time, though, Frankie nudged me in the ribs. “Hey – he’s right!” she said, jabbing her finger on the window.