10 The Sweetshop Sleepover

The Sweetshop Sleepover Bethany hadn't left the house with any kind of plan. She'd done it because she needed the space. Usually, she found scooting around the neighborhood at night a pretty awesome way to clear her head. But before she even made it to the end of their road, she was waved to a

stop by her neighbor, Eduardo Barnacle—a nosy child, in every sense of the word. "What do you want, Barnacle?" she asked. "A softer tone of voice wouldn't go amiss," said Eduardo, as he flared his humongous nostrils snootily. "Especially as I wish to wish you my most jubilant congratulations." "You what?" said Bethany." 'Jubilant.' It means triumphant and joyous. I learned it from my word-of-the-day loo paper," said Eduardo, enormously pleased to have an opportunity to trot out the new word. "I heard the news about your party! My family was honored and positively jubilated to receive the invitation from Miss Muddle this morning." "Oh right, that—yeah," mumbled Bethany.

"You don't seem very excited." Eduardo shook his nostrils, and the rest of his head, in a disappointed manner. "If someone was throwing me a party, I'd be tickled pink. In fact, I might even go as far as to say that I would be feeling—" Bethany whizzed away on her scooter before Eduardo had a chance to show off his loo-paper word. She didn't get far before she was stopped again. "Congratu-bloomin'-lations!" said the bird-keeper, who ran out of his shop with Keith the Dove perched on his shoulder. "Who would'a thought it? The girl who used to teach my talking birdies how to say rude words, getting a bleedin' party! Not me. I'll tell you that much!"

Keith the Dove usually looked down on humanity and other lesser species, but even he was inclined to coo pleasingly at Bethany. Bethany was stopped several more times on her journey. The kindly old lady who had offered do-gooding advice in the past shuffled out of her house to offer Bethany a celebratory cough sweet. Paulo the postman said it had been an honor to deliver every one of Miss Muddle's invitations. Even the zookeeper lady, who looked remarkably like a lizard, croaked out a few reluctant compliments. Bethany was beginning to think it had been a lot easier when the neighborhood thought that she was a prankster, because at least they avoided her back then. She couldn't face any more compliments, so she parked in

front of the one place where she thought she might be able to get some peace—the sweetshop. The lights were on and the door was unlocked. Inside, there was heavy metal music blaring and rattling from the sweetshop speakers. Miss Muddle was at a worktop, holding a blowtorch over another variation of the bombastic bubbletrumpets, which reminded Bethany of the beast all over again. She stomped over and turned down the speakers. "Don't do that!" shouted Miss Muddle. "The bubbletrumpets might be more musical if they can hear some tunes as I apply the finishing touches!" Bethany turned the music back up, as Miss Muddle blowtorched the final bubbletrumpet

of the batch. Then, as soon as she switched off the blowtorch, she removed a freeze-breeze hair dryer from her apron and started cooling her creations. "SWITCH OFF THE MUSIC—NOW!" shouted Miss Muddle. "TOO MUCH MUSIC AND THE TRUMPETS MIGHT BECOME TOO BOMBASTIC!" Bethany cut the music. The sweetshop was silent, save for the crackle of the bombastic bubbletrumpets cooling and solidifying. Miss Muddle gave the trumpets a sniff and nodded approvingly. "I think I've done it," said Miss Muddle. She beckoned Bethany over as she used an extremely sharp knife to carve off a slice. "If my calculations are correct, then this should be the taste equivalent of hearing a brass