“I think I’ll give it a miss,” I said gloomily. I knew I was being a pain in the bottom – I’d fallen over so many times, I had a pain in the bottom – but I was really fed up about my bedroom. I’d been dying to get it finished before the sleepover tonight. But it was still all bare walls, no carpet and hardly any furniture. I was sick of it.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Kenny grabbed my arm. “Come on, let’s play trains!”
“What?” I said. “Aren’t we a bit too old for that?”
“Funny. Listen, we all line up and hold on to each other’s waists,” Kenny explained. “I’ll go at the front, and pull you along.”
“OK, but don’t go too fast,” Fliss said nervously.
“Lyndz, you stand behind Rosie so that she’s got something soft to fall on!” Frankie said with a grin.
“Thanks a lot!” Lyndz retorted.
So we all lined up behind Kenny – me, then Lyndz, then Fliss and Frankie at the end. Then we all set off round the rink, hanging on to each other. At least this way I didn’t have to do any skating, because Kenny was towing us all along.
“Hey, did anyone see Designer Rooms last night?” Kenny called over her shoulder as we skimmed round the edge of the rink. “It was brilliant! One of the rooms looked worse than it did before they re-decorated it!”
“Kenny!” Fliss hissed from behind me.
Kenny ignored her. “Then, when they brought the woman who owns the house to see it when it was finished, she burst into tears! She said she’d never seen anything so horrible in all her life!”
“Honestly, Kenny,” Fliss snapped. “If your brain was as big as your mouth, you might have a bit more common sense!”
Kenny turned round, an injured look on her face. “What?”
“I don’t think Rosie wants to talk about Designer Rooms, Kenny,” Frankie called from the end of the line. “You know, it’s all about decorating?”
“Oh yeah, sorry, Rosie,” Kenny said over her shoulder. “But it was a real laugh!”
That was when I had my really cool idea.
“Hey, I’ve just had a really cool idea!” I gasped. “Why don’t I write to the Designer Rooms programme and ask them if they could come and decorate my bedroom?”
“No chance,” Kenny called back. “They said last night that they were getting thousands of letters from people who wanted to be on the programme, and not to send any more.”
“Oh, rats!” That was just about my last hope of getting my bedroom decorated gone down the drain…
“Can’t your mum do it for you?” Lyndz asked.
“She’s pretty busy with her college work,” I muttered. “She hasn’t got time.”
“Well, what about your grandparents or someone like that?” Frankie persisted.
“There isn’t anyone,” I snapped. I knew the others were only trying to help, but they were really making me feel worse. I was stuck with my disgusting bedroom, and that was that.
Kenny suddenly came to a dead stop right in front of us. “Hey! Extra-special, double-brilliant, triple-coo-ell Kenny brainwave!” she yelled. “Why don’t we decorate Rosie’s bedroom tonight at the sleepover?”
No-one had a chance to say anything just then. We all crashed slap-bang into Kenny, one after the other, and keeled over like a row of dominoes.
“I think it’s a wicked idea, Kenny!” I said eagerly, as we sat at the side of the rink, taking our skates off. “Do you really think we can do it?”
“'Course we can!” Kenny said, shrugging her shoulders. “We’ve all watched Designer Rooms loads of times, haven’t we? How hard can it be to slap a bit of paint around?”
Then Kenny and I noticed that Frankie, Fliss and Lyndz were looking a bit sick.
“What’s up with you bunch of wimps?” Kenny asked crossly. “Poor old Rosie needs our help. Now are you up for this or not?”
“Kenny, I don’t know much about decorating,” Frankie said with a frown. “But I know it isn’t as easy as it looks.”
“I thought you were helping your mum and dad get the spare room ready for the baby,” Kenny pointed out. (You haven’t forgotten that Frankie’s mum’s pregnant, have you? Frankie’s wanted a brother or sister for ages, so it’s mega-cool.)
“Yeah, I am,” Frankie retorted. “That’s how I know decorating’s not easy. My dad did the wallpapering yesterday, and he didn’t make the paste thick enough. When we went in there this morning, half the paper had fallen off the walls!”
“Frankie’s right,” Lyndz chimed in. “You know my dad does a lot of DIY, and he’s pretty good at it. But things are always going wrong – once he knocked himself out with a hammer!”
Kenny gave a snort of disgust. “You lot have got no sense of adventure! What about you, Flissy?”
Fliss wrinkled her nose. “Decorating’s really messy, isn’t it?” she said. “I don’t want to get paint all over me.”
My heart sank. Kenny and I couldn’t do the decorating on our own. If the others wouldn’t join in, that was the end of that.
“Oh, never mind,” I muttered in a bit of a trembly voice. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait till my dad gets back from Majorca…”
“No way José!” Kenny patted me sympathetically on the shoulder, and then glared round at the others. “Look, don’t be weeds all of your life, you lot! Are you going to help me and Rosie out or not?”
We all looked at each other.
“Oh, all right,” Frankie said at last, and Lyndz and Fliss nodded too.
“Thanks, guys!” I said, relieved.
“Don’t thank us till you’ve seen the finished result!” Frankie warned me, but Kenny thumped her on the back.
“Don’t get your knickers in a knot, Frankie!” she said. “Rosie’s bedroom’s going to look a million times better than anything on Designer Rooms!”
I grinned round at the others. My bedroom was going to be decorated at last! I could hardly believe it.
“How are we going to do it without someone hearing us?” Lyndz asked doubtfully. “We’re bound to make a noise.”
“Oh, get off!” Kenny scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We’re only sticking up wallpaper and doing a bit of painting! We’ll be dead quiet.”
“Anyway, Adam and Tiffany are both away this week-end,” I added. My brother Adam, who’s in a wheelchair because he’s got cerebral palsy, goes to a special school, and he’d gone on an adventure week-end with some of the other pupils. My big sister Tiff had arranged to stay overnight with her best mate, who was having a party. “So it’s just me and Mum. And you know she doesn’t bother much if we make a bit of a row.”
“What are we going to wear?” Fliss asked anxiously. “I’m not painting in my brand-new pyjamas!”
“I’ll lend you some old clothes,” I said quickly. We were going straight to my house from the ice rink, and the others had brought their sleepover kits with them.
“Come