Dance-off!

Fliss giggled and went bright pink again. Sean grinned and reassured her: “Only joking.”

But then he did something amazing. Standing behind Fliss he got her to raise one leg at the back – “It’s called an arabesque,” he said – and then, with one hand under her thigh and the other at her waist, he lifted her till his arms were straight, way above his head.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Mrs Weaver from her chair in the corner, her eyes shining as if she was at some amazing circus show.

“Don’t try this at home, kids,” said Sean, walking round the room while Fliss emitted little delighted squeaks somewhere near the ceiling.

“Big show off!” laughed Lorna.

Sean grinned, stuck his tongue out at her, and gently lowered Fliss to the floor. By this time Fliss was opening and shutting her mouth like a goldfish. And the M&Ms were positively green, they were so jealous!

After that, the rest of the workshop went like a fab party. The whole class were really into it by now. There were no more games – that had just been to get us in the mood, I think – but we tried making pictures of things with our bodies. Things like anger, or excitement, or sadness. Then, after these still poses (it was a bit like pretending to be statues, I guess) we tried moving to express the same ‘feelings’. It was really interesting. Kenny liked ‘anger’ the best – she stomped around the hall, puffed up like some bizarre, Leicester-City-supporting ogre.

“That was sooo wicked!” said Frankie, bouncing about the changing room afterwards.

“We should do the Newspaper Game at our sleepover tomorrow!” said Fliss.

“Hey, yeah!” agreed Lyndz. “But wouldn’t that mean we’d need to invite Sean too, to be your partner?” Fliss went beetroot again, which gave the rest of us such a major attack of the giggles that Lyndz got hiccups.

“That’s – hic – torn it!” she spluttered.

“Don’t worry, we’ll cure you!” yelled Kenny. “Pile on, guys!”

And in a second the Sleepover Club was one big mass of arms and legs. “It’s a dance called Squeezing Out The Hiccups,” said Frankie when Mrs Weaver came in and told us off.

I don’t think Mrs Weaver found it funny. But we did.

“Oh no – look!” Frankie nudged me. “Mrs Poole is making Lorna and Sean eat school dinner. What did they do to deserve that?”

I craned my head past the people queuing in front of me, and saw the three of them carrying trays over to one of the tables. “Poor things,” I grimaced. “She obviously hates them and wants them never to come back to Cuddington.”

As people collected their food there was a massive scramble to sit on Lorna and Sean’s table. The seats filled up in about two seconds flat.

“Surprise, surprise,” said Kenny, as we all sat down together at another table nearby (the Sleepover Club was far too cool to join in the scrum). “Look who’s sucking up big time.”

I glanced across and saw that the M&Ms had bagged the plum seats right next to the dancers and were beaming sickly smiles at them.

“I’ve never seen the M&Ms move so fast,” said Lyndz.

“Poor Lorna and Sean. Those smiles are enough to put anyone off their dinner,” added Frankie, making sick noises.

“The food’s enough to put anyone off their dinner,” said Fliss, wrinkling her nose. She was fiddling her fork about in her chicken pie as if she was expecting to find a dead beetle in it.

“Ha, ha. They’re not even looking at what they’re eating,” I said, watching as the M&Ms shovelled forkfuls of pie into their mouths without tearing their eyes from their heroes. “Just wait – they’ll be spilling it all down their jumpers any minute now.”

“Perfect opportunity! This is too good to miss!” said Kenny. She searched around, looking on the floor, and on the windowsill next to our table.

“What’re you after?” asked Frankie.

“Aha!” Kenny’s hand dived for something on the dusty windowsill. She flashed her open palm under our noses, then strode off towards the M&Ms’ table.

“Eeyeuch!” Fliss cringed. “Did you see – a horrible, curled-up dead spider! How can she even pick it up?”

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