Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 04 (10 page)

Tom said, “You went round to Lindsay's house and looked in her window? I didn't know that! Does Robbie know?”

I quickly said, “Tom, have you ever had the Cosmic Horn?”

Just then The Stiff Dylans finished their set and came off stage. I went off to find Robbie for a snog break, but it was hopeless. There were loads of girls all crowded around him in the dressing room, and I couldn't get near.

He said over the top of their heads, “I'll walk you home at the end, don't leave.”

midnight

Outside the Buddha Lounge. Jas asked, “Is your vati picking you up?”

“No,” I told her. “I've got a special prison pass, which means that I am allowed to get home by myself. Mostly because Mum is out and Dad can't walk after playing football with the ‘lads.' They only lost thirteen to zero.”

The gang set off, a band of merry snoggers, and I was left outside by myself.

12:15 a.m.

Brr, quite nippy noodles. Where is he?

I went and looked in through the doors, Robbie was talking to six girls: the rest of the band's girlfriends, Sam, Mia and India, and another three. I recognized a couple of them because they used to be in the sixth form and had gone off to London to fashion college or something. Perhaps that explained why one (Petra) was wearing a Tibetan bonnet with earflaps. Petra had long blond hair that poked out of her bonnet (very Tibetan…not). She was swishing it about like, er, a swishing thing. Robbie was laughing with them. But as I always say, She who laughs last…er…doesn't always get the joke.

Why was he talking to them? Perhaps he was doing PR for his career. Or perhaps they were like those groupies I read about that used to hang around boys in groups and make little statues of their manly parts out of plaster of Paris. I didn't see any bags of plaster, though. Although one of them did have a haversack. The plaster might be in there. Just then Robbie saw me and said, “Georgia, hi.”

Petra looked round and said (in a bonnetty way), “Oh hi, Georgia. Long time no dig. How are you? How's Stalag 14? Not wearing your beret?” And she laughed in a common way.

Robbie looked a bit uncomfortable and said quite quickly, “Well, nice to see you all again. See you later. Come on, Georgia.”

Hahahaha and double hahaha. That shut Petra up. She looked amazed to see me and Robbie walk off together.

 

Robbie was a bit quiet on the way home, but when we walked through the park he got hold of me and kissed me for a really long time. I only remembered to start breathing halfway through, so I nearly passed out.

It was like a snoggers' rave in the park. Every bush was full of them. Mark Big Gob was there with his tiny little girlfriend. And it was very dark, but I am almost sure that he picked her up and put her on a tree stump to snog her. Either that or her legs get very fat towards the ankles.

 

When we got to my gate, Robbie said, “Petra has just come back from backpacking round India and Nepal.”

I said, “Oh, that explains the earflaps.”

The Sex God pinched my nose. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Take me to Hamburger-a-gogo land with you.”

“Hmm, I wonder what your dad would say to that.”

“He'd say 'bye and God bless all who sail in you.” SG didn't look like he believed me. Or knew what in the name of arse I was talking about.

1:00 a.m.

Libby was still up when I got in. She had her pajama top on but her bottom was flowing free and wild. She is not what you would call inhibited, which is a pity. She was giving Teddy a late-night
haircut. Mum said when I came in, “Come on, Libbs, it's very late and your big sister is home now. Time for bed.”

Libby didn't even look up, she just said, in an alarmingly grown-up voice, “Not now, dear, I'm busy.”

2:00 a.m.

Kissed the back of my hand good-night. I think I am becoming a champion snogger. As Peter Dyer said when I went for snogging lessons, I apply just the right sort of pressure, not too pressing and not too giving. Much like my nature, I like to think.

In a way, it's a shame not to share my special snogging talents far and wide.

3:00 a.m.

What am I talking about? I love the Sex God, end of bottom. I mean end of story.

3:15 a.m.

Looked out my window. Angus and Naomi are on the wall…. Do cats snog? Perhaps they have a cat snogging scale.

3:30 a.m.

Do owls snog?

SHUT UP, BRAIN, SHUT UP. This is all Dave the Laugh's fault with his Cosmic Horn talk.

monday january 31st

Met Jas at her gate. She showed me her Ramblers' Association badge. Honestly. Apparently you go off with other half-wits and wander around the countryside looking at things. I said to her, “The gig was groovy bananas, wasn't it?”

“Yeah, fabby.”

“Jas, don't you ever, you know…get the Horn for anyone else besides Tom?”

“No. I am not like you. Promiscuous.”

“Jas, I'm not promiscuous.”

“Well, you flirt with Dave the Laugh.”

“Well, I…”

“In fact, you snog Dave the Laugh…and I bet you would snog Gorgey Henri if he asked you.”

“Well…I…” For once she had a sort of point.

 

The ace gang all wore enormous berets this morning to remind us of our visit to
la belle
France. It seems about six hundred years ago. We have decided to commemorate the occasion by having a National Hunchback Day. Maybe we will wait till things cool down a bit at Stalag 14 first, though.

When we got near the school gates we took the comedy berets off and had our ordinary ones underneath. (From comedy to tragedy in one movement!) So hahahaha to the Oberführers. We are too full of cleverosity for them.

As we were walking past Hawkeye something really horriblimus happened. Nauseating P. Green was standing near the gates! She looked like she had been blubbering for about a million years. I smiled at her and she started to come over to us. Oh, good grief. Then Hawkeye saw her and said, “Pamela Green, you are not to come anywhere near this school again. You are a complete disgrace.”

P. Green started blinking and stuttering. “But Mrs. Heaton, I…I didn't…it wasn't me, I…”

Hawkeye just snapped at us. “Come on, you girls, get into school NOW!” I wonder if she was a Doberman in a previous life.

cloakroom

I said to Jas, “Nauseating P. Green is obviously a twit of the first water but I do feel sorry for her.”

Jas said, “I wonder if we should…er…go and see someone about it.”

Rosie said, “And then get the duffing-up of a lifetime from the Bummers?”

Hmm, she had a point.

Still.

games

Brrrrrrrrrrrrr. Miss Stamp has had us doing hockey maneuvers in minus five hundred and forty.

As we shivered I said to Jas, “Even seals would stay in their little seal homes on days like this. They would stay snuggly tucked up knitting and chatting.”

Jas got interested in the seals. She's a bit obsessed with sea creatures, I think. “Do you think they have their own language? I wonder what sort of thing they talk about?”

“They talk about the great seal package holidays they have been on. Greenland by night, Antarctica weekend breaks, two nights on a top-class iceberg and as much krill as you can eat.”

This is the life. Charging around on a frozen pitch, whacking concrete balls at each other with sticks. Once you got the feeling back in your bum it was quite good fun, actually. I was tearing up and down the pitch like David Beckham (without the shaved head and manly parts, of course, but with the consummate ball skills). Well, until I accidentally whacked Jas on the knee (above the shin pad) with a ball.

It was her fault, really. I whacked a really good goal in the net but Mrs. Slow Knickers didn't get out of the way in time (probably because she was weighed down by her enormous sports pantibus). As she hobbled off she was moaning and groaning and blaming me. “You're mad, Georgia, hitting balls around like…like…”

I said, helpfully, “Like a brilliant hockey captain?”

“No, not like that.”

“Well, like what?”

She was red as a loon. I gave her my famous world-renowned affectionate hug, but she pushed me off and said, “Like…a promiscuous HOOLIGAN.”

Oooooooh. Now she had really upset me.

lunchtime

Lad alert!!! Lad alert!!! Dave the Laugh was at the school gates. He looked in a bit of a funny mood. Normally he is all smiley and sort of cocky, but he wasn't smiling. And he looked a bit tense. He is really nice-looking. If I didn't have the Sex God I would definitely want to go out with him. Especially as Tom told me that Dave made a huge banner and hung it on top of their school, and it said, “For Sale.” Which anyone can see is vair vair funny. By the time I got to gang headquarters (first floor loos), Ellen was being Dithering Queen
extraordinaire
. She was saying, “Oh, oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?”

Jas said, “Just go and talk to him. He's come to see you. That's really nice.” Then she went all dreamy and dim. “Tom sometimes just gets an urge to see me and he comes to meet me on the—”

I said, “Veggie van?”

She didn't even look at me. She just continued to talk to Ellen as if I hadn't said anything vair vair hilarious. “He comes to see me on the spur of the moment.” Then she gave me her worst look (scary bananas) and limped off.

I called after her, “You know I love you, Jas. Why are you not touching me with a barge pole? And eschewing me with a firm hand? And
ignorez-vous
ing me?” She still didn't pay any attention.

After about a million years of applying lip gloss, Ellen went out to meet Dave the L.

We all watched from the loo windows whilst they talked. I said to Jools, “He didn't snog her when he saw her, did he?”

Rosie was doing her toenails; she had bits of soap between each toe to stop the polish going smeary. I must remember not to use the soap ever again.

Anyway, Rosie said, “Sven always snogs me when he first sees me. In fact he snogs me pretty much all the time. Even when he is eating.”

We all said, “Erlack!”

Dave and Ellen went behind the bike shed and we couldn't see what was happening. I was sort of glad about that somehow, because even though I had a boyfriend, was ecstatic, in seventh heaven, couldn't be happier, never thought about another boy for a second, had set aside my red bottom with a firm hand, only had the Specific Horn with no sign of the General Horn at all, I didn't really like to
see Dave the Laugh snogging other people. I don't know why.

maths

Ellen was blubbing in Maths. She was sniffling next to Jas and I could see that she was telling her what had happened, but as Jas is even
ignorez-vous
ing my notes, I couldn't find out anything. Then Ellen put her hand up and said she felt ill and could she go to sick bay.

I know I often feel like blubbing during Maths, but I thought she was being a bit over the top having to go to sick bay. Mind you we were doing pi, and I may have said this many times before, but didn't the ancient Greeks have anything better to do than measure things? Or leap out of baths, yelling,
“Eureka!”

When Miss Stamp (quarter lesbian, quarter sports Oberführer and also quarter Maths teacher…hang on, that only makes her a three-quarter person…ah well) asked us why Archimedes shouted
“Eureka!”
when his bath overflowed, I said it was because
eureka
is Greek for “Bloody hell, this bath is hot!!!” Which may well be the first ancient Greek joke.

afternoon break

World news breaking! Dave has dumped Ellen!! And Ellen is not a happy dumpee. In the Chemistry lab loos Ellen was nearly hysterical. Her eyes were all swollen like mice eyes. She was gulping and trying to talk, and then blubbing again. Nurse Jas was hugging her.

Finally Ellen managed to say, “He, he, said he first realized at the…at the…fish party that he…that he…that he…” Sniffle, sniffle, gulp.

I thought, I'm ever so peckish. I wonder if it would be really unfeeling if I just nibbled on my Mars bar?

But then Ellen managed to go on. “I mean, I said to him…‘Is it something I've done?' And he said…he said…‘No, you're a great girl, it's something I've done, not you. It's a sort of General Horn–type thing.' What does he mean? What has he done? What General Horn thing?”

Oh God. Oh Goddy God God.

The others were nodding, but Jas was nodding and looking at me. Like a wise old owl in a skirt. But with arms instead of wings. And no beak.

Then the bell went. Phew.

4:30 p.m.

On the way home, Jas walked really quickly ahead of me, like she had something stuck up her bottom. I nearly had to jog to get alongside her. I put my arm around her and she sped up even more, so that we were both jogging along.

I said, “Jas, Jas, my little pal, I'm sorry about bonking you on your knee. Do you want me to kiss it? Or carry you home? I will. I will do anything if you will be my little pal again.”

Jas stopped. “All right, don't drop me, though.” So I had to carry her home. All the way home. And she is not light—her knickers alone must weigh about half a stone.

I was nearly dead by the time we reached her gate. I tried to put her down, but she said, “This is the gate, not my bed.” So I had to carry her right to the door. She unlocked the door still in my arms, whilst my head practically fell off with redness, and then I had to carry her upstairs to her bedroom.

It did make us laugh, though. As we were lying on her bed with a squillion of her soft toys, I said, “Jas, have you forgiven me now?”

“Polish my Ramblers' badge.” So I had to polish
the badge. Then she said, “I might be preparing myself to forgive you.”