Anyway, before we said goodbye to each other on Saturday, we arranged to meet outside school on Monday morning. That way we could all face the Gruesome Twosome together.
I had a really bad feeling as I walked to school that morning. Doom and panic whizzed about in my stomach like one of Kenny’s disastrous cooking experiments. Fliss and Rosie were already standing together by the wall, and they looked as green as I felt. Only Lyndz seemed as bright and breezy as usual. I swear that if that girl was any more laid back, she’d be permanently asleep!
“Oh come on, we’ve taken flak from the M&Ms before,” she reasoned. “How bad can it be this time?”
Nobody answered.
When we got to the gate we could see the M&Ms in a little huddle with their stupid mate Alana ‘Banana’ Palmer.
“I wonder where Kenny is? She ought to be here by now,” mumbled Fliss. Her teeth were chattering, and I don’t think it was because of the cold.
Rosie stuck her tongue out and pulled gruesome faces at the M&Ms – well, at their backs, to be precise. Then she mumbled something no one could understand.
“What?”
Rosie stopped pulling faces. “I said ‘I don’t know but she seemed really mad on Saturday’!” she explained.
Just before the whistle went, Kenny came flying up to us, holding tightly on to her school bag. She didn’t look mad now. In fact, she looked positively perky.
“What’s up with you?” I asked her suspiciously.
“You’ll see,” she grinned. “Just distract the M&Ms for a couple of minutes when we get inside.”
“What?” Fliss looked horrified. “But we’re trying to stay out of their way!”
“We can’t avoid them for ever,” Kenny told her calmly. “Better to get all their sarky comments over with at once.”
Now it wasn’t like her to be so rational, so I knew she had something majorly wicked up her sleeve.
Just then the whistle sounded, so we had no choice but to go into school.
“Remember – distract them!” hissed Kenny as we headed towards the classroom.
As it was December, we were all muffled up in coats and scarves, so we knew that we’d be in the cloakroom with the M&Ms for a few minutes. When we got there, Kenny gave me this big wink, and headed behind the coat rack. The M&Ms were already tugging off their boots. As soon as they saw us they started laughing in a really OTT way.
“Have you got your doll under there then, Frankie?” asked Emma loudly so that everyone could hear.
“We were wondering if you’d like to start a little dolly crèche in the corner of the classroom,” Emily Berryman rasped in her gruff voice.
“Or better still, go back to the nursery class!” guffawed Emma. “Four-year-olds are about on your level, aren’t they?”
We just took off our coats and ignored them. I could see Kenny ferreting about in the M&Ms’ bags and there was a bit of a weird smell, but I couldn’t tell what she was doing. All I did know was that when the M&Ms looked ready to go into the classroom, I had to stall them.
“I was conducting an experiment, that’s all!” I blurted out. The others looked horrified.
“You make me laugh Thomas, you really do!” sniffed Emma.
“What kind of experiment?” asked Emily curiously.
I didn’t really want to tell them about Mum being pregnant and everything. It felt like if they knew, they’d make fun of that too and it would spoil everything.
As I was trying to think of an answer, Kenny appeared and said, “She’s not going to tell you is she? It’s classified information.”
“Get real!” snapped Emma, and gathering up their bags, they walked into the classroom.
“What were you doing?” I asked Kenny when they’d gone.
“You’ll find out soon enough!” she smiled, and tapped her nose.
At least Mrs Weaver had something exciting to take our mind off the dreadful duo. At the end of the Christmas term, each class performs in a concert. This year Mrs Weaver told us that we would be writing our own play.
“Well it’s not a play exactly,” she explained. “It’s going to be a series of sketches about the twentieth century.”
We all looked pretty blank.
“Say someone born in 1900 was still alive,” Mrs Weaver continued. “What changes would they have seen?”
“There’s more football on the telly now!” Ryan Scott shouted out.
Mrs Weaver flashed him one of her ‘you-think-you’ve-got-the-better-of-me-but-you-haven’t-really’ smiles.
“I think what you mean, Ryan, is that yes, we do have television now. But there wasn’t a broadcasting service at all until 1936.”
“Imagine life without Match of the Day!” moaned Danny McCloud. “Bummer!”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do, Danny! Imagine what life would be like,” Mrs Weaver went on. “I want you to think of all the things you take for granted now, and find out when they were invented and how they have developed. Work in your groups, but I don’t want any noise. Understood?”
We all nodded, and started chattering away.
“I love doing this kind of thing,” I told the others. “You learn about stuff without even realising it.”
But Kenny wasn’t listening. She was propped up on the desk, eyeballing the M&Ms. “Open your bags,” she was muttering under her breath. “Come on!”
“There’s almost too much to think about,” Lyndz said, doodling on her notebook. “I mean, loads of stuff must have happened since 1900.”
“Yeah, but what’s the most important?” I asked. I looked around the classroom. “I mean, look at computers. They haven’t been around for that long, have they? And now everyone’s got them.”
“And they use them in supermarkets and banks and stuff where you can’t even see them,” added Rosie.
“My gran thinks supermarkets are really new!” laughed Lyndz. “She says that she used to have to queue up at loads of different shops for her shopping. Imagine that – it would take ages!”
Fliss didn’t seem to be listening to the rest of us either. She was doing loads of little drawings. Typical Fliss.
“Come on Fliss, we’re supposed to be working!” I told her.
“I am working!” she snapped, showing me her drawings of fashion designs. “Clothes have changed loads since 1900. Women still wore long dresses then. And Mum said that when girls started wearing mini-skirts in the 1960s, it caused a real stir. There must have been loads of changes in between.”
Fliss did have a point.
“Drawing dollies, are we?” Emma Hughes sidled across and peered over Fliss’s shoulder.
“No I’m not!” snapped Fliss, and covered her work with her arm.
“What