Fusion

When mum dragged me to a holiday park with her and nan instead of letting me go to sunny france with sophie and abby i was tres unhappy... read the story to find out more

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1. Chapter one

I couldn't belive we were going to smallhampton. For a fortnight. I mean, it was bad enough when abby and sophie were both away at the half-term, but at least that was only for a week.Now i had to cope for two weeks without them! In a holiday park.  Me, Rosie Parker, friend to the stars - well, OK, one star - in a holiday park! Quelle horreur!                                                                                                                       

I was stunned when Mum told me where were going.

'It'll be fun, Rosie,' she said, comeing up into my room with an armload of washing. 'I chose a really great place. It's got a disco and everything.' Then she started giggiling for some reason.          

I just looked at her like she was a mad woman.Then it clicked. Oh, no. Knowing mum, she's probably booked the one holiday park that only has eighties music for entertainment. Nightmare!

'Mum for the last time, I do not want to dance to Wham! with you!' i said, rolling my eyes.

'Now that was a great band,' she said, smiling wistfully as she left the room.

I thought about what she'd said. She was right - there could be some cute boys there. That would make up for two weeks in the middle of nowhere, away from my best friends.

Yeah, well, that's what i thought . . . until Shophie invited me and Abby to stay with her in france! Shophie's family are mega-rich - well, richer than me and Mum and Nan, anyway - and they were hiring a really big villa near the coast, with a pool. Sophie said it was like one of those places you see on MTV icribs, with really large rooms and flowers everywhere, and a pool tableand a fully stocked fridge (which you know the celeb never touches, because they're on some crazy diet or something, and they've got a personal chef anyway). I was so desperate to go. We would get a tan for a start, and there would be french boys there. I could practise my Francais: 'Bonjour! Une baguette, s'il vous plait.' You see, I'm a natural!

That day, Sophie and Abby and i spent all of French class getting the phrase 'un beau garcon' into every conversation, which really annoyed Madame Bertillon:

Sophie: Bonjour. Je vouudrais in beau garcon, s'il vous plait.

Moi: Oui, oui. Nous avons deux garcons ici . . .

Madame Bertillon (in that sort of growly bark she does): Girls! You're supposed to be in a bakery!

Amanda Hawkins (my aarch-enemy):Yeah, duh.

We had brilliant plans. We'd even deecided to colour-coordinate our bikinins and nail varnish.

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