Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 07 (4 page)

The gang broke into spontaneous Klingon saluting. Maybe everything is going to be alright.

two minutes later

When we got to our headquarters, Rosie donned her horns. She strolled up and down just enjoying the magnificence of her own horns.

Once we all had them on, I said, “Perhaps this is a good time to repeat the ace gang manifesto, because some people who shall remain nameless to save them shame, and that means you, Jas, seem to forget about the ace gang when boys turn up.”

Jas didn't say anything, she just straightened her horns and smoothed down her fringe. In case she was going to have a violent spaz like this morning, I went behind Rosie because my ankle still hurts.

Rosie said, “Yes, one for all and all for one and one for the road and so on.”

Jas was still fiddling about with her fringe.

So Rosie put her arm round me and Jas and said, “Let bygones be bygones, shake hands and let the rule of Horn reign.” Mabs, Jools, and Ellen were all looking at us.

Mabs said, “One for all and one for the road and all for one.”

I put my hand out first to Jas, which is vair vair nice of me seeing as it was me who was kicked. But that is me all over. Always the first to offer the hand of friendiness.

After a little minute Jas held out her hand. Rosie raised her eyebrows, and the ace gang started doing wise (ish) nodding.

Rosie said, “Now hug.”

Jas gave me a little hug, and I sort of hugged her back. There was a bit of nunga-nunga contact, so I leapt back quickly and said, “Er…group hug, group hug.”

This culminated in a group hug that nearly made my eyes pop out. Jools was so hyped up, she yelled, “One for all and all for one and all in a one for…anyway, hip hip hoorah for Merrie England and the ace gang!!!”

We finished up with a sailor's hornpipe (which I have to say was a spontaneous idea of mine. Because England is after all a seafaring nation and renowned for its hornpipes).

Then Wet Lindsay and Astonishingly Dim Monica came round the corner wearing their
prefects' badges. How uncool is that? Vair, vair uncool is the answer. They are always following us about—haven't they got lives? Lindsay has done something alarming to her head. Her hair has somehow grown a foot over the weekend. (I mean twelve inches, I don't mean that there was a foot coming out of her head, although there might as well have been.) She's had extensions. What a mistake. They are spectacularly chav and naff.

She said, “Aaaah, are you little girls practicing games for one of your pajama parties? Will there be lemonade and biscuits?”

How could Masimo even think of snogging her??? Erlack a pongoes. I drew myself up with great dignitosity and adjusted my horns, which had slightly fallen over one eye in the excitement of the hornpipe.

“Your hair is looking unusually, er, unusual, Lindsay, if you don't mind me saying.”

“I mind you saying anything, in fact I mind you breathing.”

The bell rang then for end of break. And she went on: “Get back inside because if one of you is a minute late, it's a bad conduct mark for you all.”

Oooooh fear factor 10. Not. But we all went grumbling and moaning off toward the science
block. Lindsay yelled after us, “And take those horns off, you stupid idiots.”

I said, “Charming, what a charming charming person she is. In every single way charming.”

4:15 p.m.

Walking home with Jas and Ro Ro. Jas has even done linky-upsies with me. She can't stand being unfriends with me, really. Especially as something vair
merde
and
odure
has happened.

Ro Ro said, “I can't believe our horns have been confiscated AGAIN. How crap is life in Stalag fourteen? Vair vair crap, is the answer. We should write to the newspapers about it, we are almost bound to be drug addicts by the time we are seventeen because of all the trauma.”

I said, “We'd only had them back for two hours. It is so so crap. Once again we are hornless.”

Jas said, “Not only that but we've got detention for two nights.”

I said to her, “Have you thought about going to hospitals and cheering people up, Jas? Because if you have, don't—that's all I'm saying.”

Rosie said, “When we started the bison dance in blodge, I thought Miss Finnigan was
busy looking at Jas's newt.”

Jas said, “She was. She was very interested in its peculiar markings. Tom said that actually it was the only one of its kind that…”

I said, “Jas, can you shut up now.”

She of course got the immediate hump and said, “It was the stools crashing over that attracted her attention.”

Merde.

Jas went on raving on to me, “And even then I think she might have let us off. But you just had to cheek her.”

What? Why was it my fault?

I said to Mrs. Prissypants, “Why does the finger of shame always point toward me?”

Jas went rambling on, “Because when she asked you what you were doing, you said that it was a Viking day of celebration. That was when she snapped.”

Booo.

After Jas went home, Rosie and I did a bit of skipping to raise our spirits.

I think our skipping days are numbered, though, my nungas are vair heavy.

We had to sit down on a bench near the park.

home

All quiet on the loon front. I slumped down on the sofa. Oh God, Tues. Weds. Thurs. and all of Friday to go before I knew my luuurve fate. Why did he need a week to think about it? Why didn't he just say, “Of course I want to be your one and only. You are a Sex Kitty of the first water.” Dave the Laugh would have said that.

one minute later

I miss seeing Dave the Laugh, actually, but I don't feel I can call him. I still don't know what he meant about me not getting it about me and him. Get what?

I thought he said we were only young once and we must blow our horns.

Does he mean he only wants to blow my horn?

Oo-er.

No, he can't mean that.

Can he?

ten minutes later

When Masimo said he would let me know in a week, I wonder if that's a week boy time or week girl time? If a girl says a week, that's what she
means, but a boy's week could mean anything. Like s'later.

twenty minutes later

Oh this is sooooo boring.

I'm going out to the park to practice my pretend confident walking, where I have got room to really swing my arms. I'll see if it works and anyone thinks I am confident.

park

Here we are. So. Shoulders back, swingy arms. Walking walking and swing, swing. Feet directly in front of me in a straight line. To make my hips go from side to side. This is a well-known boy-entrancing movement. Swing, swing, hip, hip. Aaah yes. This is working, I am feeling very confident. Hello tree, I am vair vair confident.

Head up.

And that's when I saw Dave the Laugh ambling along with his mates. I hadn't seen him since the “cream-faced loon” incident. Oh please let him be normal and not
ignorez vous
me. He saw me and looked across the road, just looking, not smiling. Oh no. This was awful. He is not my mate anymore.
I felt a bit like crying. But then he shouted across, “
Ciao
, Georgia.
Ho due gatti e un piccolo maiale!
”

I said, “What?”

He shouted, “I thought you lurved the Pizza-a-gogo language. I thought you loved Italian blokes. You know, all that handbags at dawn, ‘Ooh have you seen my lovely trousers?' sort of thing. ‘Ooo don't let the rain spoil my hair.'”

Oh dear, he's going to be mean to me and hold a grudge and so on. He was going to be Dave the Unlaugh. But then he smiled at me. He had ever such a nice smiley smile. I was so relieved. I smiled back, and I didn't even reign in my nostrils, I was so pleased we were friends. He didn't come over or anything, though, he just went walking on with his mates. Then he called back, “Oy missus, you don't know what I said to you in Pizza-a-gogo ese, do you?”

I said, “Er, yeah.”

And he said, “You don't.”

“I might.”

“Yeah you might, but you don't.”

He said, “I said, ‘I have two cats and a small pig.'”

“That's a lie.”

He said, “Is it, though?”

What is he on about?

Then he tapped his nose. “See you Friday at the
MacUseless
rehearsal. Get your pants ready for action.”

Cheeky cat.

Still, he was sort of friendly, so maybe he still likes me. I hope he still likes me.

two minutes later

I still don't know what he meant about what if you liked someone and let them go. Does he really mean me and him?

Is he saying he would like to go out with me as my proper boyfriend?

one minute later

Why would he say he has two cats and a small pig?

Boys are without doubt a complete and utter mystery.

And that is
le
fact.

Without doubtosity.

twenty minutes later

Oscar was outside his house. He was doing
keepie-uppie, listening to his headphones and casually eating a Mars bar at the same time. He said, “Alright?”

In what he fondly imagines is a cool way.

But he took his eye off the ball and it went over his wall. He pretended he had meant to do it by falling to his knees and going, “Yesssss!”

Like he had scored a goal.

What is the matter with boys?

8:00 p.m.

How disgusting is this? Mum said that Angus has eaten her tights and that if I see them poking out of his bum-oley, I must pull them out!

I said to her, “Mum, are you so short of tights that you will wear some that have been in Angus's bum-oley?”

And she said, “No, I just want to strangle him with them.”

She is a vair violent and unreasonable person.

in my bedroom
11:00 p.m.

I am using positive thinking and swinging my arms around a lot as I make up an acceptance
speech for when the Luuurve God says he wants to go out with me.

OK, this is my acceptance speech: “Aah Masimo, what a lovely surprise to see you…Owwww you furry freak!!!”

That isn't the speech. Gordy just leapt off the wardrobe and used my head as a landing pad so he didn't have to hurt his feet leaping straight onto the floor.

Anyway, on with my acceptance speech.

“Aah Masimo,
che bella sorpresa
! What a nice surprise to see you this…” Hang on, what is Italian for ‘this evening'? This nightio? That can't be right—he'll think I am talking about my jimjams for some reason. I'll look it up later in my
Italian for Complete Fools
book. Anyway, on with the acceptance speechio…“Oh you would like me to be your girlfriend? Well, that would be
mucho bello
. Grassy arse.”

Short and to the point, I think that is the key.

tuesday june 21st
7:30 a.m.

Had a dream about Masimo last night, only he wasn't speaking in a nice Pizza-a-gogo land
accent; he was saying things like, “That is well good.” And, “Shut it, my son.” And most alarmingly he was in a band called The Blunderboys. I was at the gig and he came over to me and said, “Get your tracksuit top, you've pulled.” And as we rode off on his scooter, he started singing, “The Funky Moped,” by Jasper Carrot. I've woken up in a cold sweat. What can it mean?

wednesday june 22nd
6:00 p.m.

How long can this torture go on? On one hand the days seem very very long, like creeping along snaily days; on the other hand it's only a matter of hours until Friday. How many hours exactly? Well, it's 6:00
P.M
. now, so that means plus six tonight and then twenty-four plus for tomorrow and then, er, well, what time will he phone on Friday? Will he count from the hour he told me he would tell me in a week's time? I would. It was 5:45
P.M
. last Friday when he told me, so a week would be 5:45
P.M
. this Friday. But you never know with boys; what if he counts it from when he got home? Would that be 6:15
P.M
? Or maybe he didn't go straight home, maybe he went to the shops and got a few nibbly
things. Then bumped into someone, so he didn't actually get home until 8:00
P.M
. Oh God.

6:30 p.m.

Phoned Jas in sheer desperadoes.

“Jas, do you think he will phone me or come round?”

“Erm, I dunno.”

“Yeah, but what do you think? What would you do if you were going to tell me whether you wanted to go out with me?”

“Er…but I don't want to go out with you. I would just tell you. In fact, I am just telling you now.”

“Jas, you are being what is technically known as a fool.”

She of course classically immediately for no reason got the mega hump. But I was in no mood for her humps. I said, “What does Tom think?”

She said, “Hang on, I'll ask him.”

Good grief, are they joined at the hip?

She came back a few mins later and said, “Tom says he will do a bit of detective work and see if he can find out anything.”

I said fanks, but in my heart of hearts I don't
know if letting Radio Jas find out things is the best foot forward. Too late now.

8:30 p.m.

Tom is going to the snooker club tonight and the Stiff Dylans are playing in a tournament. Oh Goddygodgod.

midnight

Jas says she will tell me anything she finds out tomorrow because Tom is going to call her first thing. How am I supposed to sleep under these conditions?

thursday june 23rd
7:50 a.m.

Banging on Jas's door.

one minute later

Jas's mum answered the door all washed and dressed normally. And smiling. Crikey.