said Emma in a casual voice. “It’s obvious you aren’t in the Brownies!” said Frankie contemptuously. She pushed past Emma, and I saw she was shining a tiny pencil torch. She ducked through the doorway, beaming the narrow ray of light into the dark. Even with the torch it looked horribly creepy. And I could hear sounds of water dripping steadily on stone. “Well, come on,” Frankie called to Emma. “Or everyone will think you’re chicken!” Emma tossed her ponytail and started off down the steps. I don’t think either of them wanted to go into a dungeon which might have been used as a medieval torture chamber. But it had become a matter of honour. I’m the Sleepover Club wimp as you know, but I couldn’t let Frankie do her horrifying dare alone. I took a deep breath and went pattering after her down the steps. I knew Rosie, Kenny and Lyndz were following, because I could hear bizarre snatches of conversation. “You can share out my new Leicester City kit between you,”
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