Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 08 Read online

  I said, “We must make a plan, perhaps we could all have a sort of accident.”

  Mabs said, “Like what?”

  “Erm, we could fall in a hole.”

  Jools said, “What hole?”

  I said, “Er, we could dig one.”

  Jools said, “We could dig a hole and then fall in it?”

  “Yes.”

  Rosie said, “Excellent idea, Georgia, quite startlingly insane, even for you.”

  Ellen said, “It might, you know, it might like be, well you know…like, well…”

  I said, “Crap?”

  Ellen dithered on, “No, it might be like, quite a good laugh.”

  Alarmingly all of the ace gang didn’t seem to mind the trip. They seemed to think it might be “a laugh.”

  five minutes later

  We discussed the “coffee with Robbie” scenario.

  Rosie said, “So he says he wants to ‘catch up with you,’ but he sent you a letter, so that means it’s not like a casualosity sort of fandango because he would have just phoned you if it was, wouldn’t he?”

  I nodded and went, “Uh-huh, uh-huh….”

  Jools said, “When you meet him, let him say stuff. Don’t you start talking rubbish first.”

  I nodded and went, “Uh-huh, uh-huh….”

  And Jas said, “Georgia, why are you doing an impression of one of those nodding dogs in a car?”

  five minutes later

  It’s surprising how much relief from tensionosity you can get merely by giving Jas a Chinese burn.

  3:00 p.m.

  I have managed to take my mind off my “coffee” with Robbie by applying two coats of nail varnish and coloring in all the “o’s” in my Charlie Dickens book Crap Expectations. There are many more than you think; it may well be a lifetime’s work.

  4:20 p.m.

  As I skedaddled home, all the ace gang gave me the Klingon salute for luck. Jools said, “So is it Robbie you like, then?”

  I said with great dignitosity, “He is on my list.”

  I thought I heard Jas say, “Tart.” Which is unnecessary. And also at some time will cost her a quick plunge into the nearest ditch. Maybe if I am forced to go on the ridiculous camping fiasco, I can think of an amusing revenge involving twigs and her pants.

  home

  Anyway, I am going to get this camping thing out of the way so that I can just concentrate on my love life.

  I wonder why I still haven’t heard anything from Masimo. It’s been three whole days now. And no one seems to have seen him.

  two minutes later

  What does it say in the How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You book? I’m just going to open it randomly and see what it says.

  one minute later

  “Boys live mostly in their heads.” What is that supposed to mean? I wouldn’t live in my head, I can tell you that. It’s full of rubbish.

  one minute later

  Ooohhh well, I can only think of one cake at a time, my hands are full (oo-er).

  6:00 p.m.

  What is the matter with my parents? They will not do the least thing for me. I simply asked my vati to send a letter saying that I could not go on the school trip to a field because we had planned to do something as a family.

  Vati said, “We haven’t planned anything.”

  I said patiently, “I know that, Vati, it is merely a cunning ploy.”

  “You mean a lie.”

  “Yes, exactly…er, I mean, well, not really, you see what it is is that I am allergic to the countryside.”

  Vati, as usual when he is intellectually challenged, resorted to coarse and unnecessary language.

  “You do talk absolute bollocks, Georgia.”

  That is a nice way to talk to a sensitive growing teenager, isn’t it? No wonder my hair won’t go right and I am almost constantly in detention. Then he walked out of the room. I followed him. Was he wearing hipster jeans or was it just that his bottom was growing?

  I decided not to ask.

  “Dad…”

  “Georgia, you are going on the field trip. We can take Libby to Grandad’s and then your mum and I can have some time to ourselves for once.”

  “Mum doesn’t want time with you, you will only talk about rubbish and set fire to your farts and so on. Please please don’t make me go. I may die in the forest eaten by voles.”

  “Good.”

  6:30 p.m.

  God I am so tense. I’ve spent precious makeup sex-minxy time trying to talk some sense into my father and now I have only an hour to get ready for the Sex God. I must concentrate.

  6:32 p.m.

  How do I feel about meeting Robbie? I had eschewed him with a firm hand. And now he wants to shake my hand, and put my hand…Shut up about hands! Stop going on and on about hands!! Be a hands-free zone!!!

  Oh brilliant news, my brain has popped off on an away day to Loonchester!

  6:35 p.m.

  I’ve put really loud music on to drown out my brain whilst I do my makeup. I wonder whether he will have a Kiwi-a-gogo accent. He will probably say “Gidday cobbler” or whatever it is they say.

  I’ve got this stuff that you paint on your lipstick and it makes it stay on, even through snogging. I tried snogging my arm in a very passionate way and it remained lippy-free. So resultio!!!

  one minute later

  But I don’t know why I’m bothered about snogging because I might just be drinking coffee.

  I wonder if I put the stuff on my eyeliner it would stop it coming off as well. Sometimes when I go to the loo after dancing like a loon I look like Polly the Panda.

  7:10 p.m.

  Ow buggery bugger. It’s like putting paint stripper on your eyelid.

  Ow.

  My eyes will probably all swell up now. I must keep them very wide open.

  7:15 p.m.

  I’ve got my blue leather skirt and black top on and my ankle boots. I might take a jacket just in case he wants to er…wander about in the woods or something.

  My hands are shaking so much I can’t do the buttons up.

  I must be cool and calmy calm. I must not under any circumstances turn into ditherqueen and remind Robbie how much younger than him I am. I must exude sophisticosity at all times.

  Nearly fell down the stairs because I was trying to keep my eyes open. Mum came out of the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just round to Jas’s.”

  “What, with half a ton of makeup and your shortest skirt on?”

  “Mum, just leave it for once. Remember when you were young, there must be some papyrus scroll somewhere that will remind you of what it was like.”

  She looked at me. “Georgia, that is not the way to get a favor out of me.”

  I would have to risk it. I said, “Mum. The letter was from Robbie. You know, from before? Well, he has come back unexpectedly and I don’t know why, but he asked me to meet him tonight. Please don’t ruin my life.”

  To my amazement she said, “Alright, but you must be back at a reasonable time, otherwise your dad will have one of his turns and no one wants that.”

  What? No argument? As she went off she said, “You look lovely. Why wouldn’t he want to go out with you? Just try not to do that thing that you do when you are nervous and your brain drops out. And why are you staring at everything?”

  I gave her a quick kiss and leapt out of the door.

  ten minutes to get to east street

  Pant pant.

  five minutes later

  Nearly there. I must stop my starey eyes now and prepare for sticky eye work like what it says in How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You. Yes and it is also time for hip work. And…hip swing, hip swing, flicky hair flicky hair, licky lips, hip swing, hip sw—

  There he was! Robbie the Sex God. How many hours had I spent longing for this moment? How many times had I cried myself to sleep just dreaming of him comi
ng to meet me?

  He looked vair cool and tanned. Not in an English way, which is a bit like crispy bacon bits with a touch of tomato sauce, but in a groovy gravy sort of way. He was wearing all black. A suit with a collarless black shirt. My heart went all melty. And my legs. And my brain. Hurrah, jelloid girl was back! He turned round and saw me and smiled and shook his hair back out of his eyes. They were incredibly blue black against his tan and all softy looking and he looked like he really liked me. I held my hand out for him to shake. Why? Had I turned into the Duke of Edinburgh? He smiled in a puzzled sort of way but took my hand and shook it.

  “Er, how do you do? You’re not dashing off for a train, are you?”

  I went beetroot.

  “No, I—well, that was a bit of a misunderstanding, trainwise.”

  “What, you mean as there is no train station in town?”

  “Yes, that will be the one.”

  He laughed then.

  “I’d almost forgotten how interesting life can be around you, Georgia.”

  But he said it in a sort of nice way.

  And I said, “Hgnnfff.”

  Which is a quite brilliant thing to reply if you want someone to run away.

  Robbie looked at me. “Look, let’s just try and relax and have a nice time, it’s OK. We haven’t seen each other for ages.”

  two minutes later

  He really is vair groovy looking. I had slight jelloid knickers. Then I heard Jas’s voice in my head saying, “Tart.” I don’t see why, though, because I am still a free woman. I haven’t plighted my troth with Masimo. I haven’t had a chance to plight anything, as he hasn’t bothered to get in touch with me. I am officially an untrothed person.

  Robbie suggested we go to La Strada, which is a cool Italian bar/coffeehouse sort of place with sofas and stuff. All the groovy types go there, it’s perfect for showing off in.

  three-quarters of an hour later

  Robbie has been telling me about his time in Kiwi-a-gogo land. He’s made me laugh quite a lot, but I must say there is a high level of tensionosity. He hasn’t actually said anything that would make you think he was not just a mate, talking about wombats and sheep to another mate. He hasn’t said, “You’re the one for me, Sex Kitty.” Actually from my point of view it’s a bit tricky thinking of safe things to talk about. I don’t feel I can talk about the Stiff Dylans because then Masimo would come up (oo-er) and what would I say then? I don’t know if anyone has snitched to Robbie about Masimo being my maybe boyfriend. I can tell you this for free, though, if anyone has said anything bitchy it will be Wet Lindsay. Using my world-famed subtle-tosity I must subtly find out, in a subtle way, what she has told him.

  I said, “Erm, I heard that Wet…I mean Lindsay—turned up on the night you arrived back. Did she have any…er…news?”

  He looked at me. “I didn’t think you got on all that well with Lindsay.”

  I said, “Who does? I’m only human.”

  He laughed, thank goodness.

  At which point, and this is unbelievable, Miss Octopushead herself walked into the bar with her indescribably dull and sad mates. She was flinging her hair about and doing that hippy walk thing which is vair vair common. (Unless I am doing it.) She went over to the bar and turned round to say something to ADM and that is when she saw us. She looked like someone had just stuck a burning poker up her bum-oley. She turned back to the bar to order her drink and when she got it she walked over to our table. Oh brilliant, I was going to get a Coca-Cola over my head. But she ignored me completely and just spoke to Robbie. “Hi Robbie, great night on Saturday, I’ll see you at the after-gig party next week. I’m looking forward to it.”

  Then she looked at me like she had just spotted a bit of gob having a cup of coffee and said, “Georgia, out a bit late, aren’t you? Looking forward to going off camping with your little mates? It sounds ever so exciting and you will probably get to stay up late playing games and so on. I remember I used to love camping when I was your age. See you.”

  And she slimed off.

  Oh I hate her.

  Robbie looked at me. “She doesn’t seem to really like you that much. Er, camping?”

  I said, “We are being made to go and thrash around in the undergrowth for German. I should have never mentioned the Kochs.”

  Oh well done, brain, talking complete gibberish and mentioning the Kochs. Super. Thanks a lot. Good night.

  Lindsay was talking in a really mad way to ADM, shaking her extensions and looking over at us. I was definitely a dead person when I got to Stalag 14. Lindsay was going to make it her life’s work to kill me. At the very least I was going to be Stumpy the girl from Stump land.

  As my brain was prattling merrily along by itself, Robbie looked over my shoulder toward the door. He said, “This is a popular place.”

  I looked round. Oh excellent, just when you think things can’t get any worse, they get worserer. There at the door was Masimo with Dom from the Stiff Dylans. This was awful. Robbie and Masimo looked at each other and did that nodding thing that boys do. Masimo looked at me in a sort of odd way. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Phwoar, I could tell what I was thinking, though, he is, it has to be said, gorgey porgey plus nine. And that is, as any fool can tell you, a lot of gorgey porgey.

  He and Dom came over to our table and did a lot more of that boy stuff:

  “How’s it going, mate?”

  “Cool.”

  “Are you cool?”

  “Yeah, I’m cool. How are you?”

  “Cool.”

  Total WUBBISH. I don’t know why girls get told off so much for being superficial and only caring about makeup. Boys are worse, they never say anything that lets you know what is going on. Even if they have the fight to end all fights with someone and their head gets pulled off they’ll say (with difficulty, because of the missing head-scenario), “No, it’s fine, all cool. We’re cool with it.”

  Masimo said to me, “Ciao, Georgia, how are you?”

  I said, “Oh, me well I’m alrighty, as alrighty as…er…anything.”

  Shutup shutup shutup now.

  The lads chatted for a bit about the band whilst I sat there like the goosegog fiasco of the year. Dom said, “Do you fancy coming and jamming with us at the gig?”

  Then they started the cool thing again! Robbie said, “Yeah, that would be great if it’s all cool with Masimo.”

  Masimo said, “For me, it would be OK, this would be a cool thing, per me, and you come and sing maybe a few of your songs. Yes?”

  He was talking to Robbie, but looking at me. I was just sitting there like a fool in a skirt (which I was). I could not think of anything except the last words I had said to Masimo, before I had run off for my imaginary train, which were, as I recall, “Did you see the footie scores this arvie?”

  Perfect. What could be more sane than that? “Anything” is the answer you are looking for.

  Through the mists of horror and ordure, I heard Dom saying, “See you then, mate. Bye, Georgia.”

  And they all went off to another table. As they sat down, some girls from St. Mary’s Sixth-form College came skittering in and joined them at their table. Doing that ridiculous kissing on both cheeks thing. Why were they sitting with them? One of the girls was whispering in Masimo’s ear and flicking her hair about. What was going on?

  Robbie said, “Shall we quit the scene? Do you fancy a bit of a stroll?” I managed to nod without my head falling off and we left the cafe. Lindsay looked absolute daggers at me as I went past her. I don’t know what Masimo did as we left, I couldn’t bear to look at him. I have never been so full of confusiosity in my life and that is truly saying something.

  Robbie was a bit quiet as we walked along. He had his hands in his pockets so at least I didn’t have the lurking-arms scenario to worry about. As we got to North Street he stopped and turned to face me.

  “Georgia, I know that when I left you were really upset and I
am sorry that I hurt you so much. I just felt that you were so much younger than me and that…”

  He stopped and looked into the distance.

  What what? And that what? And that I was wrong, you are so full of maturiosity, Georgia, that I would like to snog you within an inch of your life? Is that what?

  And that’s when I felt a sort of dithery strange energy. Like there was a mad person behind me. There was.

  “Oh, er, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…I was just out in the street, like I am now and I, well…Hi, Gee…hi, Robbie…”

  Ellen. What was she doing? Lurking about like Lurkio in the streets. On her own. But not in casual gear. She was all tarted up. Was she following us? Hoping for a threesome? How weird and French. But no, she wasn’t following us, because that is when I saw Dave the Laugh with his posse. Oh nooooooooo. I must hide, hide. I wish I could turn my skin to bark like those iguana things and then I could just blend in with the trees…What was I talking about? There were no trees, there were just shops, well I wish I could have skin like a shop then…and then…SHUT UP!!! Dave clocked us and came swanning up all full of casualosity and joie de whatsit and winked at me.

  “Oy Robbie, Georgia…and oooh it’s Ellen. What are you hep cats up to then?”

  Ellen went absolutely purple, and was just opening and closing her mouth like a purple trout. She managed to say, “Oh Dave…wow…er…hi, fancy, fancy seeing you here…er…here…in with your…

  Dave said, “Trousers on?”

  Ellen went on and on, “Er no, no, not the trousers…well yes, because well you have got them on but…but…well anyway I must be going.”

  And she went off.

  She must have been secretly trailing Dave around. Blimey. I have eventually met someone who is even more full of bonkerosity than me.

  Dave shouted after her, “Missing you already, Ellen.”

  That’s done it, now we will spend the next month discussing with Ellen whether he, like, really was missing her already, and when was already and what did he mean by missing. I felt sorry for Ellen in an irritated way, because she really did luuurve Dave the Laugh. She has never forgotten the eight-and-a-half minutes they went out together.