Sleepover Girls Go Karting. Narinder Dhami

explaining in this snooty voice to one of the other drivers, a weedy-looking boy with red hair. “You’ve got to try and improve your cornering.”

      “I know,” Alex said. “But it won’t make much difference – your kart’s so much faster than anyone else’s.”

      A smug smile spread across Josh’s already-smug face. “I know,” he replied.

      “Urgh!” I rolled my eyes at the others. “Pass me the sickbag, someone – and make it a giant-sized one!”

      “Hi, girls.” Josh had just noticed us all staring, and was looking down his nose at us. “Like the kart? It’s mine, not the centre’s. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

      “We’re not looking at your kart – we’re looking at you and wondering why you’re such an annoying twit!” is what I wanted to say, but I didn’t because Frankie kicked my ankle as soon as I opened my mouth. What I actually said was “Ow!”

      “I’m Josh Stevens,” Josh went on. “My dad owns this karting centre. And these are my two mates, Alex and Robin.”

      Robin was another weedy-looking kid with blond hair and specs. It was obvious that Josh my dad owns this karting centre Stevens liked having mates he could boss around, because they were both standing there looking up at him as if he was the best thing since sliced bread.

      “So, girls.” Josh said the word girls in a way that made me want to punch him on the nose. “Have you been karting before?”

      I was dying to say that I was the World Under-Eleven Karting Champion, but I knew that would be a mistake. So I just said, “No.”

      “Oh, right.” Josh grinned at us in this really annoying way. “Just take it slowly, and you’ll be OK. It’s not a sport for girls, really, anyway.”

      I clenched my fists. “Why not?”

      “Kenny!” Frankie hissed in my ear, but I took no notice. Meanwhile Rosie, Lyndz and Fliss had shuffled in closer to me, as if they thought they were going to have to hold me back from thumping the little creep. They were right!

      “Well…” Josh shrugged his shoulders in this incredibly patronising way. “Everyone knows men are better at things like football and motor sport. Girls are better at things like netball and sewing!” He sniggered, and Alex and Robin sniggered too. “It’s the same with karting. It’s a man’s sport!”

      “Oh?” I said. “And is it a sport for slimy little creeps, too?”

      Josh’s mouth fell open, and his mates looked as if they were about to faint. “What did you say?”

      “You heard me!” I snapped.

      “And there are loads of girls here anyway,” Frankie added, glancing round the arena. “There’s no reason why girls can’t be as good at karting as boys.”

      Josh looked down his nose at us. “That just goes to show you don’t know anything about karting!” he sneered. “I’ve been karting since I was five years old, and I’m an expert!” Then he looked alarmed and took a step backwards, as I took one forwards.

      “We’ll see!” I said, eyeballing him grimly.

      “You’ve got no chance!” Josh retorted, and then stalked off, with his two sheep – sorry, mates – hurrying along behind him.

      I turned to the others.

      “Right, that’s it!” I said firmly. “We’ve got to show Mr Creep that girls are as good as boys. We’re all going to be champion karters!”

      

      OK, so the others moaned a bit, but they didn’t really mean it. They hated Josh as much as I did. We were all determined to show him that he was talking rubbish, and that girls could be brilliant karters too.

      Well, that was before we were taken off to be given driving instruction by Mike, the race director. There was so much to remember, it was almost impossible! First of all Mike took the five of us, plus some other kids, over to the beginners’ area. There, we were given a number each, as well as safety helmets, gloves and race suits.

      “Mine’s too big,” Fliss grumbled, as she rolled up her sleeves. “And it’s not pink either!” she added sadly.

      “Good,” I retorted, as I struggled into my own race suit. “We don’t want that idiot Josh thinking we’re all weak and feeble girlies.”

      “He was the pits, wasn’t he?” Frankie said. “Hey, guys, did you hear that? The pits – you know, the pit stop? That’s a karting joke for you!”

      “It’s nowhere near a joke,” I said. “It’s not even funny! Look, we’ve got to show this creep just how wrong he is. So make sure you all listen up to Mike so you know what you’re doing, OK?”

      Everyone agreed, and there were lots of woo hoo!s and high fives. But when we finally got started, it was a different matter. Like I said, there was just so much to remember.

      First of all, Mike showed us some of the karts. We all had the chance to sit in one and test out the pedals without actually moving.

      “Now, unlike a proper car, there are only two pedals to worry about and no gears,”

      Mike explained, pointing them out. “This is the brake, and that’s the accelerator.”

      “I hope I don’t mix them up!” Fliss whispered to me anxiously.

      So did I. I could just see Fliss trying to brake, and going smack into the kart in front, headfirst. Josh Stevens would laugh himself silly!

      Fliss looked even more worried when Mike explained that the karts could go up to thirty miles an hour. He told us that the steering wheel didn’t turn very far, but turning it just a little had a big effect on how the kart moved. He also said that it was important to keep accelerating and not to slow down, as it was difficult to build up speed again. That made Fliss look even greener – I don’t think she was looking forward to going fast at all!