Becky's Terrible Term by Holly Webb

on Friday afternoon full of enthusiasm, and desperate to tell her how good Becky’s history project had been, and how Becky had stood up in front of the whole class and talked. Mrs Ryan could hardly believe that these were the same girls who’d been refusing to speak to each other the weekend before last.
    â€œSo, things are going all right at Manor Hill, then?” she asked, smiling.
    â€œUh-huh.” Three emphatic nods, and yes-type noises round mouthfuls of chocolate biscuit.
    â€œIt’s fun,” added Becky, managing to swallow first. “Mum, do you think we could have some friends round soon?”
    Mrs Ryan positively grinned. Thinking back to how worried she’d been about Becky settling down at school, this was more than she could have possibly hoped for. “Why not? Do you want to ring them and ask them for tomorrow?”
    â€œYes!” Annabel actually choked on her biscuit with excitement, and leapt up to grab her mobile.
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    Next morning Becky was sitting on the garden bench stroking Pixie, who was taking a well-earned rest after catching half a pigeon (or rather, a couple of feathers from the tail-end – the rest of it had got away, leaving Pixie sitting on the grass looking disgusted and spitting feathers out of her mouth for at least five minutes, and the triplets rolling around on the grass laughing). Becky thought to herself that what she’d said to Mum was true – school was fun.
    The only irritating thing was they hadn’t yet managed to think of a way to get Max back for the stunt he’d pulled on Katie. But one thing was certain – Max needed to be careful, because they were so going to get him, eventually.
    At least the six of them – the triplets and Megan, Saima and Fran – had managed the best payback ever for Amy’s meanness. The best bit was, they’d nicked Amy’s own idea! Every time they saw the evil threesome, the six of them would just giggle, as though they were trying desperately hard not to, but there was something so funny they just couldn’t help it. It was driving Amy mad. She’d been checking her clothes, her hair, everything, to see what was making them laugh – she was obviously convinced that she had her skirt tucked in her knickers, or something. Six to three was absolutely no contest.
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    A couple of hours later, Orlando and Pixie were on the shed roof, sulking furiously. What had happened to their nice quiet garden? It was full of people – and a dog ,of all things.
    The dog in question was having a marvellous time. Football was most definitely his favourite game ever. Lots of people to jump up at, and a lovely big ball to chase.
    â€œThat dog’s a better striker than you, Katie!” called Becky, as Feathers nicked the ball again, and raced down to the bottom of the garden, barking like mad.
    â€œIf only we could get him to aim at the goal instead of the pond, he’d be playing for Chelsea,” said Fran. She was a bit damp from retrieving the ball several times already.
    â€œOh, look at those cats.” Becky nudged her, and pointed to the shed. “They’re so cross!”
    â€œDo you think I should take Feathers home?” worried Fran.
    â€œNo way!” Annabel stroked his feathery ears. “It’ll do those cats good to have Becky fussing over someone else for a bit. They think she’s their personal slave.”
    â€œIt’s true.” Becky smiled. “But that’s only because I am their personal slave, of course. Oh, look, Mum’s waving. Come on, everyone!” she called cheerfully. “Pizza!”
    Even Feathers wasted no time heading for the kitchen. Delicious smells had been wafting out for the last quarter of an hour, and with six new people to look soulfully at, he was pretty sure he could manage a good feed – he was an expert, after all.
    The six girls sat munching happily round the kitchen table while