Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 05 Read online

  Shouting at Angus, in my humble opinion, is as useless as challenging a centipede to an arse-kicking contest. But I didn’t say. Instead I tried the reasoned sensible approach for which I am famous.

  “Mutti, you see the thing is you are hurting Angus’s feelings by yelling at him. I think he’s crying.”

  “He will be crying when I get hold of him. If he lives long enough to cry.”

  She is so violent. I said, “In my cat book it explains things; you see, Angus brings you birds and bats’ ears and stuff because he thinks you are a really useless cat in the nuddy-pants. He thinks you are too dim and stupid to catch your own snacks. The bat ear is his little gift to to you. And you are yelling at him. He is very puzzled and upset.”

  By this stage Angus was lying on his back with the bat ear caught between his front paws, tossing it about. Not crying as such.

  12:30 p.m.

  Back in my bedroom to start preparations.

  I’ve done the base coat of my nails, toes and fingers. Now then, what is next on my list in order? Ah yes, relax your mind.

  I lay down on my bed with a cucumber slice over each eye. Ahhhhh. Let go of all tension.

  Fat chance. Libby came barging in singing “Sex Bum, Sex BUM, I’m a Sex Bum.” Which I think is unsuitable for a four-year-old.

  I managed to get Libby out of my room and put her into the airing cupboard, she likes it up there. Vati was in the drive cleaning his clown car. I have asked him if he will wear a mask when he goes out in it. Actually I have asked him to wear a mask at all times, but you might as well ask for the moon. I opened my bedroom window and yelled down at him.

  “Vati, my dear little sister doesn’t sing ‘Bar bar bag sheet’ anymore, nor does she sing ‘Three blind lice.’ Do you know what she does sing?”

  He was too busy polishing the clown car to take any notice. In fact if I had gone to Kiwi-a-gogo land and a very fat Eskimo called Carl had moved into my bedroom, he still wouldn’t notice. I don’t know why people bother having children if they are going to spend the whole time pretending they don’t exist. I went on regardless, like Sherpa Tensing.

  “As you ask, I will tell you what she sings; she sings ‘Sex bum, sex bum, I’m a sex bum.’

  And he laughed.

  I said, “I hope you find it as amusing when she turns out to be a child prostitute.”

  By the time I looked round from the window, Libby was back in my bed with her Heidi book.

  “Heggo, Gingey, time to read.”

  I tried to explain to her that I am busy and have to get ready to go out, but she gave me a glancing blow with scuba-diving Barbie.

  I have at least managed to keep Angus out of my room. I have closed the door. Libby thinks it’s very funny because Angus knows we are in here and he keeps putting his paw under the door and groping around.

  But he can stay out there. I don’t want bat essence on my party things.

  4:00 p.m.

  No wonder small children are mad. Heidi, who is still living with her mad grandad in the mountains, is clearly a bit on the insane side from the beginning, because it says, “It was with a happy heart that Heidi lay down on her bed of hay.”

  Good Lord.

  4:30 p.m.

  Then this boy called Peter is jealous of Heidi’s new friend (some soppy nitwit in a wheelchair). So he pushes the soppy nitwit’s wheelchair off the edge of the mountain whilst the soppy nitwit is having some cheese in the house.

  (I must make a note to myself to NEVER go to Swisscheese-a-gogo land.)

  5:00 p.m.

  Ah well, it all ends happily because the soppy nitwit learns to walk because she hasn’t got a wheelchair anymore.

  So, in conclusion, that is the moral of Heidi.

  “Always push invalid chairs off the top of mountains when you get the opportunity.”

  The end.

  Excellent advice.

  7:00 p.m.

  Time to go. I think I look rather groovy and mysterious in my teenage werewolf outfit. I decided against the black lipstick in the end because it made me look a bit like those sad Goths who turn up at gigs in the summer in leather bondage stuff and then have to sit really still because they are too hot to live. And then they stick to the seats.

  Also, I have some new and groovy lippy and lip gloss in different flavors.

  Très très gorgey and bon.

  Went downstairs for Vati’s traditional lecture about the length of my skirt, makeup, curfew time, drinking, snogging or anything. I hate it when he talks to me like a so-called grown-up. It’s very embarrassing in a clown car owner. He was slumped on the sofa as normal. Gosh, he is porkus bigus these days. I said, “Vati, I really think that you should get in shape.”

  He didn’t even look round. He just said, “I am in shape. Round is a shape.”

  Whilst he was laughing like a loon at his très pathetique joke I slipped quietly out the front door.

  Escape!! Freedom!!! Party!!!!

  Not that I am really cheered up.

  Just brave.

  7:45 p.m.

  We all met up at the clock tower and walked to Rosie’s together.

  As we went through the gate I said to Jas, “Rosie’s mutti and vati are always away, how sensible and reasonable they are. All my mutti and vati do is hang around the house asking me what I am doing and also why am I doing it and when am I going to stop doing it.”

  Jas, representative for the terminally annoying, said, “My olds have given me my own key…it’s a sort of token of my passage into adulthood.”

  I said, “Are you sure it is the key to your house? Perhaps it is the key to someone else’s house and is therefore not a token of adulthood but just their way of saying good-bye.”

  Hunky laughed and Jas gave him a “look,” but as I was giggling at my own deep amusingosity she shoved me really hard and I nearly fell off my heels. My shoes in keeping with my new sophisticosity are quite high. In fact they are so high I may even be able to look Sven in the eye, which will be scary.

  I am a bit nervous about seeing Dave the Laugh.

  8:15 p.m.

  Tom rang the bell and the door was ripped open by Sven. Yeah!! Sven back again. Crikey, I had forgotten how alarming he can be. Even by his (high) standards he had gone a lot too far this time. He had a Viking helmet on over an Afro wig and he was drinking out of a horn. He picked me and Jas up and said, “Hey swingers!! Coming on in why dontcha, chicks and laddies.”

  What planet does he live on? And how do you not go there?

  Nice to see him, though. I have never seen furry shorts before.

  Then Rosie popped up—she was entirely covered in fur, eyebrows and sidies, furry hands and knees, and even fur poking out of her shoes.

  I said to her, “There is the suggestion of the wildebeest about Sven in those shorts.”

  And she said, “I know, exciting isn’t it? Help yourself to snacks and drinks.”

  The pink chipolatas in tomato sauce really did look like severed fingers. Yum yum.

  9:00 p.m.

  Quite a crowd at the party. All the usual suspects. Sam and his mates from sixth form college, the Foxwood crowd, Damion Knightly (known as the Dame) and his mates from St. John’s plus loads of girls we knew from gigs and Moorgrange School. Some of the boys were quite fit, but none had that je ne sais quoi, that Sex Goddy charm that brought out the red-bottomosity in me.

  And no sign of Dave the Laugh.

  Good.

  At least I could relax.

  Jas said, “Dave the Laugh’s not here.”

  I said, “So?”

  And she just looked at me.

  She is turning quite literally into a staring person.

  9:15 p.m.

  I thought just for a laugh I would try out some of the tactics from Mutti’s book.

  The Dame came over and said, “Hi, Gee, come and dance about like a prat.”

  And he pulled me onto the dance
floor (the bit in between the sofa and the dining table). The Dame was blundering around to some really loud rock music that Sven had put on. Sven was actually on the table thrusting his furry shorts around like a sort of Viking lap dancer.

  Rosie was doing the twist very very fast till she was a blur of fur.

  Anyway, I thought for practice I would try “sticky eyes” on the Dame. So I looked him in the eyes. He looked a bit startled at first, like he was thinking, “Oy what are you looking at, mate?” But I did that dragging my eyes away from his thing and then looking back. And it worked!!! He was sort of mesmerized. In fact it was a bit like I had hypnotized him. I kept looking him in the eye and then I moved to the fireplace still looking at him. And he followed me there like a boy zombie. I went behind the TV and he followed me there. I went and stood by the window and he followed me there. It was amazing.

  Then Dave the Laugh walked in. Gadzooks and also crikey.

  He was dressed all in black like me and he looked cool. His hair was slicked back and he had false fangs. Which I am alarmed to say I found a bit attractive. You could do excellent lip nibbling with them.

  I had stopped looking at the Dame but he still followed me as I went to the snacks and drinks table. I was sort of casually pretending that I hadn’t even noticed Dave the Laugh. Which was a bit difficult to keep up, because he shouted, “OK all you chicks who find me irresistible, follow me. No pushing.”

  Oh vair vair amusant. He’s so bloody confident. He went off into the kitchen and a few girls (including Ellen, who as we know has no pride to speak of) went after him. I was just looking at the kitchen door when Dave suddenly appeared back through it again. I was so shocked that I turned round really quickly and practically snogged the Dame, who was lurking behind me.

  He said, looking all dreamy and hypnotized, “Do you fancy going outside?”

  I said, “Er, it’s minus a million degrees out there.”

  And he said, “I’ll keep you warm.”

  Is there a crap book that useless boys read called Tips for Being Useless? If there is, the Dame has read it. I didn’t even bother replying. Then Ellen came dithering over to me. She was all red and spazzy.

  “He’s—you know, well, he’s…I…should I…well, you know?”

  I said, “Ellen, look, don’t have a nervy b. It’s not attractive. Listen, why don’t you try that dancing-on-your-own tactic?”

  She thought that was a good idea and started dancing around looking all dreamy and moody, and slightly swishing her hair about. Within seconds one of Sam’s mates started dancing with her.

  Surely this how-to-make-anyone-fall-in-love-with-you thing can’t be this easy?

  Dave the Laugh was looking at me, but I wasn’t going for it, fangs or no fangs. I could go up to him and say, “Hi, Dave. ’Bye, Dave. You are so yesterday, but fangs for the memory.”

  Shut up, brain!!!!!

  He was looking at me but he didn’t come over, so I thought I would go look at the CD collection in a sort of cool way because the tension was making me want to go to the piddly diddly department.

  I had to walk past him to get to the CDs so I flicked my hair a bit and did the hip-waggling thing. (Which is not as easy to coordinate as you might think.)

  Yess!!! Result is he followed me. I was looking at the CDs even though I realized at the last minute that they were all upside down and I couldn’t see the titles. He said, “Georgia.”

  I didn’t even turn round.

  “Georgia, I know your hips are bad but do you fancy a quick snog? I’ve got healing hands.”

  He is appalling!!!

  It sort of made me laugh, though. He is soooo full of himself.

  I turned round to him and looked at him like it said in the book (the bit I hadn’t told the ace gang yet). It said, “Number eight. Let your eyes slide down the nose to the lips, caress the lips with your eyes for a moment and then slowly venture south to the neck.”

  Dave took his fangs out and said, “So Sex Kitty…”

  It was really weird because I felt like I was melting into Dave. And we would have snogged right there in front of everyone. I knew Ellen was there and I knew everyone would see and it would be dreadful but all the blood in my brain had gone off on a little holiday into my lips.

  Just then a girl’s voice came into my head from behind Dave. It said, “Hi Dave, sorry I’m late, I couldn’t park my scooter.”

  Through the haze of frustrated snoggosity I looked at the voice. It belonged to Rachel, a girl I know vaguely from hockey and gigs.

  Rachel said, “Oh hi, Georgia, how’s Stalag Fourteen?”

  I just went a bit goldfishy, opening my mouth but not saying anything. Dave looked like a rabbit caught in car headlights. Dave the rabbit eventually managed to speak. “Oh. Hi, Rachel,” and he gave her a kiss on her cheeks. She kissed him on the lips and put her arms around his neck. Then she pulled him away and said, “Come on, big boy, let’s groove.”

  I just stood there.

  Dave looked back at me and shrugged his shoulders. Then they went off into the other room. Rachel still had her arms around him.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  It was unbelievable, that is why.

  I couldn’t stay.

  I slipped out and got my coat and crept out into the dark night.

  I waited until I got to the gate and into the street but then I just couldn’t help it, tears started pouring out of my eyes. Even though I would look like a panda in a skirt I didn’t care. I heard footsteps behind me.

  If it was Dave coming to apologize, he could just forget it. Then I heard Jas’s voice, “Georgia, it’s me, I’ll—I’ll walk back with you. I saw what happened.”

  She might be a complete and utter fringey annoyance, but Jas was my bestest pal.

  She put her arm around me and said, “This is just friendly, it’s not, you know…I’m not…er…”

  I said, “Oh this is awful, it wasn’t just that I was displaying glaciosity to Dave…it’s well, I thought he wasn’t just a snoggee but also a mate. He taught me the secrets of the Horn and now he has gone off with another girl…”

  Jas went, “I know.”

  “Just went off immediately with another girl.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not even warm in my grave.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s got slightly ginger hair.”

  “I know.”

  “My smile is much nicer than hers.”

  “I know…er…hang on, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right.”

  “I am abandoned on the ship of life.”

  “I know.”

  “Jas, you are not really cheering me up.”

  “Well, I know and that is because there is really nothing to be cheerful about; I would hate to be you.”

  in bed

  11:45 p.m.

  Jas says she will never sympathize with me again after I pulled her stupid hat down over her stupid face and she fell over a paving stone. That is the good news, but otherwise life is absolutely beyond the valley of crap and entering the Universe of Totally Useless.

  midnight

  I lit a candle at my altar to Robbie (after I had removed scuba-diving Barbie and some chewed-up moth).

  Why oh why did this happen to me? I must have done something incredibly bad in a past life.

  Perhaps I was that Roman bloke who played with his instrument whilst Rome burnt down, Tyrannosaurus rex. Oh no, I don’t mean Tyrannosaurus, I mean Nero. If it was Tyrannosaurus rex, that would mean that a dinosaur played a violin, which is clearly not going to happen.

  Maybe if I pray for forgiveness and promise to be a better person, Baby Jesus will let me have what I want.

  Looking out of my window at the Infinite sky. I prayed out, “Dear Baby Jesus, I am sorry for my sins, even though I do not know what they are, which seems a bit unfair if it is going to be held against me.
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  “But that is your way.

  “And I am not questioning your wisdomosity.

  “In future, however, would it be possible for my life to be not so entirely crap? Thank you.”

  son of angus, otherwise known as cross-eyed gordy

  sunday march 13th

  I have accidentally come on a nature ramble with my “family.” That is how upset I am. And the nature ramble involved getting into the clown car in order to get into nature. This should give you some idea of my state of sheer desperadoes. Vati had his World War II flying helmet on and his goggles. It was vair vair sad and tragic.

  I slumped down in the back of the Clown-mobile. I even let Libby make me look “niiiiice.” Her idea of looking nice is not the same as most other human beings’ (apart from pygmies). She tied my hair in little pigtails with bits of wool. But I don’t care. My life is over and I am a mad toddler’s playdough person.

  Vati was in an appallingly good mood. When two women were walking along (practically at the same speed as the clown car), he wound down the window and shouted, “Your big day is here, ladies, the Sex Bomb is officially in his car.”

  Oh God it was soo humiliating.

  I said to Mum, “I don’t think Dad’s medication is working, Mum.”

  2:00 p.m.

  Eventually we arrived in “nature,” which to some might look like a boring old field in the middle of nowhere. I’d only come to get away from the tension of not answering the telephone. If I had stayed at home and the phone rang, I wouldn’t be able to answer it in case it was Dave the Laugh apologizing. But then if it didn’t ring, I would be indoors waiting all day knowing that he hadn’t rung and I hadn’t been able to ignore him.

  2:20 p.m.

  The only bright spot of the day was the sight of Vati jogging off into the fields like a fat mountain goat. I was just sitting in the back of the clown car waiting for my life to be over. Mum and Libby were eating a picnic, Libby in her attractive country costume of furry coat and rabbit hat. Unfortunately I am only too well aware that beneath the furry coat lurks her nuddy-pants outfit, pray God there will be no poo business in the car.

  Dad was cavorting around looking interested in nature, yelling, “Oh my word, there is some cuckoo spit,” or “Voles!!” when suddenly he just disappeared from view. Completely gone. I thought about yelling “Thank you Baby Jesus, it’s a miracle!!” But I am still hoping for a bit of a result from the Lord, so I restrained my delight.