Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 07 (12 page)

Noooooooo.

I almost screamed at him, “NO…er, I mean,
like, don't bother him, I…”

But Dom had already gone inside his door followed by his girlfriend, who looked at me in a funny way. I bet she has got girl radar, I bet she knows that I haven't dropped my keys and that I was just wandering the streets lonely as a clud. Maybe I could hide? Before they came back. Yes, yes, that was it, that was the sensible thing to do. I could just duck down behind a car and they would go away.

ducked down behind a car
thirty seconds later

Yes, yes, this would work. If I just stayed here until they had gone away, that would be good and fine. Yes yes. Still as a little mouse. I am a small invisible mousey girl. As I was crouching down a man came by walking his dog. He looked down at me and said, “Are you all right, love?”

And his bloody dog was licking at my face.

I said, “Yes, yes, I…”

“Have you lost something?”

“No, er, I mean yes, yes, it's my keys.”

(Goawaygoaway, stop the licking thing. Be gone!)

I heard voices from the other side of the road,
and Mr. Mad Neighborly shouted across, “Dominic, there is a young lady here who has lost her keys, come and have a look, will you? My eyes are not so good at night.”

Good enough to come and spy on perfectly innocent people hiding behind cars, you nosey wally type person. Why couldn't he be like our neighbors? Mad and unhelpful? But oh no, he had to come HELPING along. What was I going to do?

one minute later

From my position on the ground I could see a lot of legs. This was beyond the Valley of the Very Nearly Quite Tragic and entering the Arena of the It's All Gone Terribly Terribly Wrong.

Then I heard the words.

“Georgia?
Ciao. Com esta?
”

Excellent, a Luuurve God has landed.

How does he think I am?

He has dumped me because I am not full of sophisticosity and now he finds me crouching down behind a car in the middle of the night, with a dog licking my bum.

The only possible thing to do was to look up with a casualosity at all times sort of air about me.

I did. I looked up and smiled and said, “Blimey, Masimo, what a…surprise, yes, yes, I am, er fabbio, thanks.”

I stood up quickly and said, “Ahahahah found them!”

I was deliberately not looking at Masimo. Dom said, “Oh brilliant, where were they?”

I said, “Oh they must have dropped out of my handbag when I…when I got…when I got my…torch out.”

Why did I say that? What kind of person carries a torch with them, in a fully lit street? I'll tell you what kind of person. An imaginary kind of person who is telling enormous porkies. Thank goodness it was night, at least they couldn't see that my whole head was scarlet with just a hint of beetroot.

I risked a glance at Masimo and he was sort of smiling. Does he have to look so gorgey all the time? Then it occurred to me, maybe he thought that I was stalking him, that I had been hiding behind cars looking at him. Oh nooo.

I said, “I…er…was at Katie's party.”

Dom said, “Oh yeah, shame we couldn't come, mind you, tight leather jeans are not my best look. But your, er, top is cool.”

I looked down at my outfit. Oh excellent, how much like a prostitute did I look like lurking around the streets in thigh-length boots and Lurex. Happy happy days. I said, “Oh fanks, yes it was a hoot, but it was a bit of a young crowd, you know, silly dancing, that sort of thing. So I took a shortcut home and…”

Masimo still hadn't said anything. But then he said, “Maybe I should walk to your house with you, in case…you…lose another thing…maybe your, how do you say in English”—he said something to Dom in Italian and Dom laughed and said, “Compass.”

Oh God, they were laughing at me.

I felt an enormous uncontrollable strop coming on, I was deffo heading for nervy b. central, so the best thing I could do was to leave quickly.

I said, “I'll be fine, thank you. I'll just say good night to you both.”

Oh brilliant, I was sounding like some twit from Dickens. I was amazed I hadn't said, “And Devil take the hindmost.”

Masimo touched me softly on the arm. “Come Georgia, let us walk for a while.
Ciao
, Dom.”

Dom said,
“Ciao,”
and went off back inside his house.

two minutes later

We walked along the street in silence. I couldn't remember if I had checked my lippy before I had left Katie's. I had left in such a tizz, I hadn't thought to check. Maybe I could just take a little peek now? I could sneak my hand into my bag, feel around for the lippy, unscrew it single-handedly in the bag and sneak it up to my mouth whilst I was looking down. Or pretend to look behind me and apply it then underneath a pretend cough. No, I daren't risk any more bag movement. Maybe there would be a car mirror, no, no, too low. What about a passing bus or lorry mirror? Shutup shutup.

Masimo said, “Did you have a good party?”

I said, “Oh yeah, it was fab and also possibly verging on marv.”

Masimo went on. He has got the most amazing voice. “Dom, he say tonight after our meeting that maybe we go to a party for later, but he doesn't say you are there, and I think, maybe I am not in for the party. My mood is not for dancing.”

What did that mean? My mood is not for dancing? Did it mean he didn't feel like dancing, or did it mean, he wasn't in the MOOD for dancing, i.e., he was in a sad mood? And if he was in a sad
mood, what did that mean? Also he said he didn't know I was there—would he have come if he had known? Or did he mean, he…oh shut up, brain, shut up. If only he would stop talking and just grab me, that would sort everything out.

Occasionally as we walked along we bumped arms and it was like an electric shock. I really couldn't think of one thing to say. Other than, “Snog me, snog me, you gorgeous Italian love stallion!”

As we reached my street, Masimo stopped and looked at me. “Georgia, when I last see you, I didn't…well, I want to tell to say, to
explicado
, to explain about…”

I said quickly, “Oh there's nothing to explain, you don't have to. I understand.”

Masimo touched my arm again. “I think I have hurt you and I didn't, this is not what I wanted. I…”

I smiled my incredibly false smile and said, “Really, honestly. I am fine as two fine things enjoying a fine day out in fine land.”

He looked puzzled. “So…you are saying…you are fine? Everything is alright with you?”

“Yes indeedy.”

He smiled at me. “That is good,
caro
, I am
happy for that. Now maybe we could be friends and…” (Oh no, he had said that word “friends.”) He got a pen and paper out of his pocket and started writing on it. “Here is my number. Will you ring me, and we can have good times, maybe eat and go for dancing?
Sì?
”

I didn't say anything. I thought I would burst into tears. I just kept the smile on my face. In fact I was smiling so much, I probably would always have to smile because my face was fixed. He put the piece of paper into my hand. I still smiled at him.

Then he bent down and kissed my cheek. “You are so nice. I like you very much, Georgia. Phone me, we can be, how you say here, very good mates.
Ciao.
”

And he walked off back up the road. He turned round and waved and blew me a kiss. I waved back, still smiling. Singing that old crap song “Smile though your heart is breaking…”

in my room

Just me and the night.

(And Angus and Gordy and Libby and her toys.)

I don't want to be his mate.

I've got enough so-called mates.

Even bloody Dave the Laugh said, “See you, mate.”

How come I have gone from Sex Kitty to mate in less than a day?

I don't want to “have fun” with Masimo.

What does he expect me to do, go back to his place for a cup of coffee and then say, “Right, I'm off now, see you, mate.”

five minutes later

Or hang around being a goosegog mate whilst he gets off with other girls at Stiff Dylans gigs. Shouting after him as he goes off with someone, “You chancer! What are you like? See you later, mate, don't do anything I wouldn't do! That leaves you a lot of scope! Rrrrrrr.”

Mate?

I'm not going to be his bloody mate.

I can hardly be bothered to be mates with the mates I've got.

I'm already having to be “just mates” with Dave the Laugh.

That's enough being mates in anybody's language.

thirteen minutes later

Mate.

sunday july 3rd
10:30 a.m.

Jas phoned. “Gee. Are you up?”

“No.”

“Well, can I come round?”

“Why? Has Tom gone slug hunting by himself? I thought you were going to RAMBLE with him today, and that is why you couldn't be bothered to say good-bye to your besty pal last night.”

“Er…no, I just want to see you and chat and do makeup and stuff.”

“He has gone slug hunting without you.”

“No, he hasn't.”

“What, then?”

“Well, they've started a Sunday League footie thing and well, you know, it's good for him. And, anyway, he's on a mission because I told him to find out all he can about the Masimo type scenario.”

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, huh?”

“I mean huh as in huh.”

“Shall I come round?”

“If you like, we can practice being mates, seeing as that is going to be my lifetime achievement award. I'll probably be on TV as ‘Mate of the Year.'”

12:00 p.m.

Me and Jas in my bed eating cornflakes. Jas thinks its “fun” at my house. She thinks it's charming that we have mostly biscuits to eat and that my dad sets fire to his beard every other day. And that the cats have been next door and dug up the bones that the Prat Poodles had carefully buried in the compost heap.

And are now chewing them at the bottom of the bed. I can hear the horrible crunching sounds, but I am too tired to care.

It isn't fun at my house.

It is sad.

12:15 p.m.

Jas has just almost made me laugh by getting out of bed and adding a bit to the Viking disco inferno bison dance. It is sort of sniffing the air. So it goes step to the right, step to the left and then sniff sniff. Like a Viking bison might do. If it were trying
to find its prey. And if there were such a thing as a Viking bison.

Excellent.

12:30 p.m.

I am preparing myself to forgive Jas. She has been almost nice to me since she came round. She said that she thinks my nose is shrinking. She spoiled it a bit by adding, “Either that or your head is growing.”

Still, it is the thought that counts. Ish.

Is my head really growing? As we measured it I told her about what happened at Katie's party. I told her about Dave the Laugh going off with Emma and she said, “But you don't mind that because you love the Italian Stallion.”

“Yeah, that is clearly a fact, but, well, I have known Dave a long time, and he did say that thing about maybe we should sort of be together.”

“Yeah, he said that, but what do you think?”

“What do you mean what do I think? How should I know?”

“Well, I know that Tom is my only one and only.”

“Yeah, but that is because you are so boring, er, I mean too, er, you are too blind with luuurve to
hear the call of the cosmic Horn.”

“I know.”

She is sooooo annoying, but I suppose she is just being her.

Because we were being so cozy and back to the old days of besties I bared my whatsits to her. I told her about walking home and bumping into Masimo as I was having my bum-oley licked by a dog.

She said, “Oh blimey, mate.”

She had said the mate word, but I let her off as I'm not a lezzie anyway.

She went on: “So…are you going to give up on him now, then?”

I said, “Yep, I tried the girding of the loins scenario, however my loins came ungirded. Which can be quite painful, especially if you are wearing tight jeans.”

We had a bit of a laughing attack for a bit because it has to be said, even if no one except me will say it, that I am despite being sheer desperadoes and in the cakeshop of aggers, etc., quite a good laugh.

When we had built up our energy with another packet of whatsits, I went on: “I'm going to have to
think that he doesn't exist and
ignorez vous
him.”

“So when we go to the Stiff Dylans gig will you pretend he is a figment of a sham?”

“No, I will not pretend he is a figment of a sham. I won't have to and do you know why? Because I won't be going to the next Stiff Dylans gig.”

“Blimey.”

I nodded whilst I crunched through my whatsits.

“That is a fact that is written in stone. I will never be going to a Stiff Dylans gig again.”

“Blimey.”

“He told me to call so that we could go out and do mates type stuff.”

“Blimey.”

“Jas, will you think of something else to say besides blimey, please?”

“OK.”

“But I will tell you what I am going to do with his telephone number. I am going to go into the woods and ceremoniously burn it so that I will never be tempted to call him even in my darkest moments of jelloidnosity.”

Jas started to say, “Blim…er…crikey.”

in the woods
3:00 p.m.

I have burnt the paper with Masimo's number on it and buried it under an oak tree. (Well, Jas scraped away a bit of soil with a twig she found. And it took her long enough to do that because she found a mushroom that she thought might be a “special” mushroom.)

9:00 p.m.

I don't even feel tragicosity, I feel nothingosity.