Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 05 (16 page)

Anyway, that is it, there is a career I will never be having. I will not be going to the Congo. Which is just as well, as I haven't been able to find it on the map.

5:40 p.m.

Oh I am soooo happy to be alive and free. Free, free. I felt like scampering and skipping down the road. Plus my boy entrancers had stayed on all day with no suggestion of glue eye.

I was singing a song in my head and moving my hips in time to the music. Like it said in the book. A car honked its horn as it went by and some boys shouted out to me. Probably moron boys, but it's a start. Now if I could just add the flicky hair I would be laughing.

So let's see…hip, hip, flickyflick, hip, hip flickyflick. Excellent!!! Now for the
pièce de
what
sit…downy eyes and upsy eyes.

Hip, hip, flickyflick, uppy, downy, hip, hip.

Yessssss!!!! Got it. I am a Sex Kitty.

Once more, with feeling.

Hip, hip, flickyflick, upsy, downsy eyes…

“Ciao.”

Ohgreatballsofordure, Masimo!!!! On his scooter. Saying ciao.

I looked up. Yes, there he was.

I said, “Oh, ciao.”

How cool was that? Very very cool, cooler than that, it was vair vair vair…shut up brain, shut up.

Masimo was still looking at me, like he thought that at any time I would start closing my eyes and dance off. I said, “How are you?”

Excellent, normal as Norman Normal. Normaler.

He looked at me with his fab eyes. It would have been weird if he'd looked at me with anything else, with his ears for instance. Hahahahahahahaha. Oh God, I was doing out of control laughing in my head!!! This was a new and scary development on the nincompoop scale.

Masimo said, “I am cool.”

I thought, You can say that again, mister.

Masimo revved up his engine. “Can I give you a lift anywhere?”

Blimey.

“I am going to rehearsal. Maybe I could drop you at your home.”

Oh yes that would be groovy, him dropping me at my house and seeing the Robinmobile, and maybe my mum in her aerobic outfit…or Libby in no outfit…

I said, “Well, I'm going to my mate's house. We are hanging out before we go clubbing.”

What am I talking about??? Clubbing? I will be going clubbing—clubbing myself to death if I keep talking absolute arse-blithering rubbish. Then Masimo smiled at me and I got chocolate body syndrome, which is jelloid knickers with knobs. He gave me his spare helmet; great news, I would have pancake hair when I got to Jas's and took it off. But I don't really care.

I climbed on the back of the seat seat. It felt really groovy, but I would have to think of a good way to get off that didn't involve a knickers extravaganza. I wasn't exactly dressed for bike work, as I had my very very short black kilt on. Maybe if I
shuffled over and put one foot on the floor and then bent the other knee up and sort of slid…Masimo said, “Hold on to me.”

And accelerated off quite fast. I put my hands on his waist. He had his parka on and everything, but it was like I got an electric shock touching him. The wind was blowing in my face and making my eyes water. Please don't let my boy entrancers blow off.

We sped along. It was really fab and I was feeling full of happiosity and bliss. I couldn't believe I was actually on the back of a scooter holding on to the Sex Meister.

Masimo shouted to me, “Please, tell me how to get to your friend's house.”

Actually Jas's house was about five minutes away, but I directed Masimo to go down the High Street even though that is not on the way. When we stopped at the lights I saw Dave the Laugh's Rachel and a few of the Upper Sixth going to Luigi's. They all waved like mad when they saw Masimo, even Rachel…Masimo just raised a gloved hand and we whirled off. I hope everyone recognized me under my helmet.

I could have stayed holding on to Masimo and riding round forever, round and round, like that bloke on that doomed phantom boat,
The Flying Dutchman
. Of course there are differences—he was not on a scooter, and I don't have a beard and I am not Dutch.

Eventually I had to point out Jas's house to Masimo and we pulled up outside. I got off without a police incident but Masimo didn't turn his engine off. I didn't think that was a good sign. It meant he wasn't going to hang around and chat.

I tried to remember some Italian and said, “Well thanks, er grazias a lot. Thank you a lottio. Thank youio a lottio.”

Masimo smiled, “I am glad for doing of it. I am, how you say, full of sorrows for my English.”

I said, “Oh don't worry, I hardly speakio any myselfio.”

He laughed and said, “You are funny.”

Oh brilliant, he thinks I am funny. Not groovy or a Sex Kitty that he must spend the rest of his life worshiping and adoring, but funny.

Then he said, “I must go to my rehearsal.”

And he revved up. I said, “Oh yeah, well ciao.” Then I remembered my Horn teacher's advice so I
put on my biggest smile. “It's really nice that you have come to town and…I…thought you sang
très bon
.”

He smiled again. “Good. Thank you. I will see you. Ciao.”

And he went off. I turned to go into Jas's gate feeling a bit flat and in the Valley of the Terminally Confused again. Had he just given me a lift out of politeness? Oh damn, damn and damnity damn damn. I hate all this.

I looked at him as he reached the end of Jas's street. He could be going to see Wet Lindsay after rehearsals for all I knew. How did she get boys to like her…it was a bloody mystery. Maybe she slipped horse tranquilizer into their Coke? As I was watching him indicating right, he did a big wheelie and curved back up the street very fast toward me. He slowed down in front of me and shouted, “Georgia, do you want to come with me to the cinema?”

I did my world-famous impression of a cod in a kilt. He turned the bike round again and said, “If you do, I will see you at seven thirty on Friday at the clock tower.
Ciao, va bene.
”

Then he sped off.

I rang on Jas's bell and eventually she answered it.

“Have you come to test me on my Froggy assignment?”

Is she really truly mad? I said, “Jas, be sensible. Let me in, and give me something.”

“Like what?”

“Sugar. I've had a shock. Get your secret chocolate stash out and I'll tell you.”

As we were munching away in her bedroom, I told her all about it.

She said, “Blimey. So he's actually sort of asked you out.”

“I know, fab isn't it?”

“But is he seeing Wet Lindsay as well? Maybe it's a double date thing and she will come to the cinema as well, and you will have one of those French things.”

“What French things?”

“You know,
ménage à trois
.”

“Jas, he's Italian.”

“Oh well,
menagio à trios
.”

8:00 p.m.

I had to leave because sometimes Jas is so
sensationally mad that I feel violence coming on.

But nothing can alter this fact. Masimo, the best-looking bloke in the universe, a Dream God, has asked me—Georgia Nicolson—to go out to the cinema with him.

8:30 p.m.

I might have known there would be a couple of flies in the ointment, one of them quite porky. Mutti and Vati were in a real strop and a half when I got in. Vati started, “Where have you been? And before you start, don't give me any nonsense about homework club. I wasn't born yesterday, you know.”

I felt like saying, “Not unless yesterday was eighty-five years ago.”

But I didn't because I love everyone.

Then Mutti joined in. “You have got be straight with us, Georgia. If you want to be treated like a grown-up, then you have to show us you deserve to be.”

Vati was still grumbling on, “It's not like we've never been young, but I at least treated my parents with respect and told them the truth.”

I said to him, “Are you suggesting you want me to tell you the truth at all times?”

Mutti said, “Of course my darling, we are your parents.”

I said reasonably, just to clear things up, “Ah yes, but when I said how crap the Robinmobile was and why did we have to have a clown car, Vati went ballisticisimus.”

They both just looked at me in that sighing looking-at-me way. Still, I was in Cloud Nine land and maybe I would make a point of telling the truth from now on.

I took a deep breath and said, “OK then I will tell you, I was walking home from Dr. Clooney's after a hard day with the elderly mad when the new singer with The Stiff Dylans came along and gave me a lift to Jas's on his scooter.”

Vati was already a bit huffy. “How old is this ‘lead singer'?”

I said patiently, “He's Italian.”

Vati said, “What?”

I said, “He's Italian, isn't he, Mum?”

Vati looked at Mum. “So you know all about this then, Connie? What is it with you two? I'm always the last to know anything in this house. I slave away all day and then when I come back…”

I slipped out whilst he was raving on and went to my room. It doesn't matter what happens, divorce, orphanosity, it doesn't mean anything when you have a Sex Meister as your plaything.

9:00 p.m.

Libby has made Gordy a pair of cardboard glasses at nursery school. And a hat to hold them on.

Actually it's not a hat, it's a rubber glove, but it holds them on nicely.

11:00 p.m.

I haven't got long to plan my outfit for Friday.

Should I try to get Mum to buy me something new? Knowing her, she will probably count the new kitten-heeled boots and two skirts and trousers she bought me on Saturday.

I wonder if I should consult with Dave the Laugh before I go on my date? No, because I don't want any chance of rogue snogging.

I'm so excited I am never going to go to sleep again.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

wednesday april 27th

breakfast

Vati gave me a squeeze on the shoulder as I was eating my frosties. And he and Mum seem to be speaking. What fresh hell?

He said, “Georgia, thank you for telling us the truth. Here is a fiver to get yourself something. Remember, it's always worth telling the truth to people.”

I said, “Oh, well; if fivers are involved, I should tell you that I am going to the cinema with Masimo on Friday night.”

I thought Vati might explode, but sadly he didn't. He tried to go on being reasonable, which was scary to witness. He was mumbling as he got his flying helmet on, “Right. Good. Right. That's the sort of thing we mean. Good, right.”

And then he went off to Flood Headquarters.

Honesty is definitely going to be my policy from now on.

break, on the knickers toaster

I had been going through with the ace gang what I could wear on my date. And also showing them a new celebration dance I had made up for the occa
sion. There was, I must admit, quite a lot of finger pointing and hip waggling in it, but that is the way with celebration dances.

Rosie said, “Georgia, you know that you are one of my bestest pals and that the ace gang is one for one and all the way to Tipperary and so on.”

I said,
“Oui.”

“However, if you go on being such a prat and a fool for much longer, I am afraid I am going to have to kill you.”

games

The Upper Sixth were getting changed when we came in to the changing rooms. We are being forced to do a cross-country run by Adolfa. But I don't mind because it means I will be in tip-top physical condition for my love date on Friday. (Of course it will also mean that tonight I will be in bed by five thirty with severe exhaustion and bottom strain, but
c'est la vie
.)

 

Then I saw Wet Lindsay eyeing me like a Seeing Eye dog and also talking to her astonishingly dim and limp mates about me. I wonder if she knows anything about me and Masimo. Why should she? Still,
it gives me the creeps. I feel that we have shared past lives together, and they have all been crap.

4:20 p.m.
detention

Oh God and
Gott in Himmel
and also
Mon Dieu
. What is the matter with Hawkeye? She is so unreasonably surly. I went to the loos before Latin and I was just sort of dollydaydreaming about Masimo, so I was a tiny bit late for class.

Herr Oberführer Grupmeister of the Universe (Hawkeye) said, “You should have been here at three
P.M.”
and I in a fit of spontaneous combustion and honestosity said, “Why, did something really good happen?”

 

I have to write out eight hundred times “Rudeness is a poor substitute for wit.”

Which is quite literally a pain in the arse. I mean it, I can hardly sit down after our cross-country run. At least I can walk, which is more than can be said for Nauseating P Green. She should never have attempted the water jump in her condition (i.e., very fat).

4:25 p.m.

Hurrah, I have perfected a way of doing lines quickly. I have Sellotaped five pens to a ruler so I can do five lines at once.

The fifth line looks like a mad woman's knitting, but you can't have everything.

thursday evening april 28th

Jas is staying behind after school. Hard to believe that a human being can be interested in going around the sports field with the blodge teacher looking for vole droppings, but that's old Jazzy Knickers for you. The most interesting person since…er…Quasimodo.

I must say, though, I am relatively impressed
vis-à-vis
her glaciosity and independentology toward Tom. I think he's definitely very puzzled about how calm she is being, and he's not talking so keenly about going anymore.

friday april 29th

lunchtime

Time is going so slowly.

I said to Ro Ro, “Do you think I should risk the boy entrancers?”

She said in between mouthfuls of cold rice pudding, “What if there is a snogging incident? I mean, you know, they might get entangled in something.”

“Like what?”

“His mustache.”

“He hasn't got a mustache.”

“I know, but if he had one. I'm just saying you can't be too careful.”

Please don't let me emigrate to Madland just before the best evening of my life.

I don't think I will risk the boy entrancers, though.

4:30 p.m.

I ran home with gay nunga-nunga abandon. I ran and ran with a Devil-take-the-hindmost attitude and hoped I wouldn't see anyone I knew. Thank the Lord for once that I didn't; I can only imagine what I looked like.

5:35 p.m.

Bathed and moisturized to within an inch of my life. Face pack on.

Should I make a list of conversational topics so that I don't accidentally say anything abnormal?

6:00 p.m.

The trouble is, I don't have anything normal to say. I can't talk about my family life when my vati has a clown car and my mutti has no moral code. I can't even begin to go into Libby or Angus and Gordy. Or Grandad.

What about school and my mates?

Am I mad????

Hmm, well, what about books I have read?

Surely no one really wants to know about
Blithering Heights
, and somehow I don't think I should mention
How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You
.

So that leaves makeup.

Oh God.

7:15 p.m.

I'm taking tiny tiny steps so that I am not early or hot. I honestly don't think I am going to be able to speak, my throat feels like something has nested in it. Maybe I should just not turn up. He is bound not to like me. He probably won't turn up. He's Italian and fab beyond marvydom and older; he's got girls hurling themselves at him. I should just stick to my own league. That's what it says in my book; I just read it before I came out. It says you should choose someone in your own sort of area physically. If you are an eight you can choose a seven or another eight. But how do you know what you are? When Jas, Rosie, Jools, Ellen and I did that points out of ten for features, I got a nine for my hair but minus zero for my nose; does that mean I am an average seven? Because if it does, I am definitely buggered because Masimo is beyond a shadow of a doubt a ten.

7:40 p.m.

I'm going to go home. He's not going to come anyway, and I can't hide in this shop doorway for much longer pretending to be looking at kitchen implements.

7:42 p.m.

Oh blimey, here he comes now. He's just ridden up on his scooter. Right. Casualosity at all times is called for.

Masimo had his back to me, so fortunately he didn't see me nearly fall over when I didn't see the wheelchair ramp thing on the pavement. He was locking up his scooter and then he turned to look around. God he was gorgey. He had a cool blue and gray Italian zip top on and a suit. Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen any of my boy mates in a suit. It looked really groovy gravy. But it did make him look like a grown-up. Still, I was being a grown-up myself(ish). He saw me and looked at me for what seemed like ages. I felt like doing some Irish dancing to fill in the time but I didn't.

Then he sat down on the seat of his scooter and watched me come across to him. He said,
“Ciao, Georgia, you look very gorgeous. Forgive me for being late.”

Hell's biscuits I don't think I can stand this. I managed to croak out those immortal and sophisticated words, “Oh hello.”

He left his bike on the pavement at the clock tower, which I don't think is altogether legal.

We walked along to the Odeon. He was walking along quite close to me but not touching me, although when we got to the doors he opened the door for me and sort of put his hand gently in the small of my back to guide me through. He only has to brush against me for my entire insides to start doing Morris dancing. He paid for our tickets and we went into the dark and sat at the back in the official snogging seats. That must mean something, mustn't it? Or didn't he know they were the snogging seats? Oh dear
Gott in Himmel
. I kept thinking I must say something interesting, but what would be safe?

Before the film started, Masimo got us Cokes and he said, “So, Miss Georgia, you are quiet.”

I said, “Oh yes, well, I'm just relaxing because it's been mad lately.”

Masimo said, “Oh yes, what have you been up to?”

“Yes, well, I had to…er…do a cross-country run and—”

Fortunately he interrupted me. He said, “So do you like sport? I am big sport fan. I like the football and I run, every day I run.”

I said, “Oh yes, so do I. Nothing stops me running. If the weather is too bad I run around my room.”

He laughed for quite a long time. So I laughed as well. But actually I do run around my room, and who can blame me?

 

We watched the film, but I can't remember a thing about it because of the extreme tensionosity. My shoulder was right next to his, and when he gave me some popcorn his hand brushed across mine. It gave me such heebie-jeebies that I nearly had a spasm and chucked the popcorn everywhere. I definitely was on the road to Spazzyville.

Halfway through the film and still no sign of snogging. He's brushed my hand, our shoulders and knees occasionally touch, and that is it.

Perhaps he found he didn't fancy me when he saw me and now he is just sitting politely through the film.

Perhaps he never even thought of me in that way.

Maybe I am like a chum.

OH God.

10:00 p.m.

We went out into the night and Masimo said, “I will give you a lift home.”

No suggestion of coffee or anything. So he definitely thinks I am a mate. I am so depressed. But I cannot be a sad sack. I have to pretend to be perky and that I like being a mate to a Sex Meister who I just want to leap on and snog to within an inch of his life.

The Sex Meister seemed to know everyone we saw. He'd only been here for a week or two and all the girls in town seemed to know who he was. It was all “Oh ciao, Masimo,” fluttery, fluttery, flickyflick. Pathetic.

I said with a really nice smile, “You seem to have got to know a lot of people.”

He said, “Yes, they are nice, I don't know…the
girls, they are very friendly here.”

Hmmm, “friendly” was one word for it. He seemed to be a bit sad somehow as we got near the clock tower. He said, “It's nice, it's just that, well, in Italy I had a girl, you know, a serious thing and it ended. She was sad, I was sad. So now I, how do you say, I have burned my hands in the fire of love.”

One minute it's Dave the Laugh the Horn Master telling me it's all to do with the Cosmic Horn and hormones and then the Sex Meister goes all poetic and burns his hands on the oven of love.

Masimo smiled at me. “So now, I don't want to be sad anymore. I want to be happy, have fun. Do you want to have fun, Georgia?”

I said, “Er…oh yes, Fun City is where I live usually. I'm a bit like you really, when Robbie went off to Kiwi-a-gogo I moved from Love City to Fun City. Obviously stopping off in Sad City.”

He laughed. “I understand. I think. So this is good, it is all fun.”

“Oh yes, absobloodylutely fun as two short…fun things.”

We got back to his scooter and got on it. He helped me into my helmet and as he fastened it he
looked straight in my eyes and said, “Ah
caro
…you are sweet.”

Then he hopped on and revved up and we scooted away. I loved being on the back holding onto him as we whizzed through the dark streets. It was like being in an exciting movie, except I didn't know whether it was a romance or a comedy.

We got to my house and I got off the scooter sharpish in case of knicker display, took off my helmet and juujed my hair. He switched off the engine. Ahahhahahaha. Then he said, “Georgia, what do you know of Lindsay, is she one of your mates?”

Er, what exactly was the correct answer to that? I would rather eat my own poo than be her mate, she is a slimy twit with the smallest forehead known to humanity. Or just a simple “I hate her to hell and back”? But then I remembered that I was “funny and sweet,” not “a massive bitch,” so I said, “Er…Lindsay, well, yeah, she's, you know…well, yeah…”

And left it at that.

Masimo said, “She has got for me a ticket to ‘Late and Live,' which would be groovy to go to, do you think?”

I smiled and nodded. I hope the smile came out right because as my mouth was smiling, my brain was going “Kill her, kill her, strangle her with her thong, stick her in a bucket of whelks…” Now I knew what it felt like to be Angus.

Then I saw Vati peering through the curtains. Oh God, now he was waving in a cheery casual way. He went away, and then Mum appeared waving and smiling. Stopwavingandsmiling!!! The only plus was that the Robinmobile was in the garage. Sadly, Angus and Gordy weren't. Gordon is not even officially supposed to be out at night. He is still wearing the glasses Libby made for him. Although they are now on sideways. Angus and Gordy were wrestling with each other on the wall. I said, just for something to say, “That's Angus and Gordy.”

Masimo went over to the wall; he was smiling. “Hey, they are great.”

When Masimo got near, Angus stopped wrestling and sat up staring straight at Masimo. Oh God, I hoped he hadn't got anything against Italians. Gordon came and sat next to him and they were both staring at Masimo. Then they both did the letting the tips of their tongues loll out of their
mouths. Like idiot cats.

Why did they do that??

I couldn't think of a single normal or even “fun” thing to say after all the shocks I had had, so I said, “Well, I suppose I should go in now, it's a bit nippy noodles. Thank you for a fab night.”

And Masimo said, “Ah yes, ciao.” And he got on his scooter and started it up. Then he looked at me and kicked the scooter back up on its stand but left it running. He climbed off and came over to me, “Yes, thank you, Georgia.” And he put his face near mine and I thought, “Yes yes and thrice yes he is going to snog me. At last, at last!!!”

And then he did kiss me. But just a tiny baby kiss. It was over in a second and really gentle, like brushing my lips with his. No suggestion of tongues or any handsies. Just a sort of peck.

And that was it.

He said, “See you later.”

And roared off into the night.

midnight

I am exhausted. What in the name of Sir Richard Attenborough's baby-doll nightie was all that about?

saturday april 30th

10:00 a.m.

I can't believe this. Two more of Vati's sad mates have bought Robin Reliants. There is a clown car convention in our driveway. Vati and his incredibly sad mates are standing around discussing wheels or their new red noses or something. I am hiding in my bedroom until they all go. They are all off to a rally, thank the Lord, which means at least I can be on my own with my miserablosity.

11:00 a.m.

Mutti came up to say good-bye and give me a kiss, even though I buried my head under my pillow. She said, “I am kissing the pillow where your head is and you can't stop me.”

I went, “Hmmmfff.”

She said, “We'll be back about eight, eat something sensible, and that doesn't mean jam and chip sandwich. By the way, that Italian boy is quite literally gorgeous.”

Oh oh!!! Nooo, she was talking about him. No no. Shutupshutup.

10:30 a.m.

Peeking out of my curtained window as the Clown rally departs.

I really can see why the youth of today are so ashamed of the older generation; you should see what Mum and Dad are wearing. They are all in leather. Vati has a leather jacket and trousers on, as well as his flying helmet and goggles, and Mutti has a leather minisuit on and thigh-length leather boots. She looks like a prostitute. And Dad looks like a brothel madam.

Libby, Angus and Gordon all have their own flying goggles now. There was a lot of late-night fighting but in the end Libby persuaded Mum and Dad that Angus and Gordy had to go to the rally and needed goggles.

So there they are, sitting in the back window of the Robinmobile with their gogs on. Don't ask me why Libby wields such power over them; Angus is supposed to be my furry pal. It was quite nice last night having him purring away on my nungas when I was so upset. I thought he would hang about with me today to keep me company. Especially as I got up so early to feed him—I was out in the garden in the freezing cold at eight thirty
A.M.
I have a
method for giving him his food that prevents any accidents (like me having my hand gnawed off). The method is, I lock him out of the kitchen and then I put his pussycat snacks in his kittykat dish (Gordon has his own eatery in the downstairs loo—it's handy because then he can have a thirst-quenching drink from the lavatory bowl…erlack) Anyway, I put Angus's food in his dish whilst he amuses himself by hurling himself at the door. Like a furry battering ram. Then I let myself out through the kitchen door into the garden and go to the front door and into the hall where Angus is head-butting the kitchen door. Protecting myself with the broom, I open the door and he dives in. Then I shut the kitchen door. So I am never at any time in the same room as Angus and food. That is why I have two hands. But this means nothing to him—one word from Libby and he has got his goggles on and is in the back of the Robinmobile. I'm surprised that he is not driving; he will be on the way back.

12:00 p.m.

Phoned Jasyissimus, my bestest pal.

“Jas?”

“Oh hello—what happened then? What number did you get to?”