Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 06 (3 page)

Who knows what goes on in my mind? I will be the last to know.

Even when I am totally and without doubtosity in luuurve, absolutely wouldn't dream of being
with anyone else, etc. etc., still the Cosmic Horn rears its ugly head. And there is something about Dave and his special lip-nibbling technique. In fact he is one of the best snoggers I have come across and I haven't even snogged Masimo yet. What if Italian boys are useless in the snoggosity department? What if Masimo looks cool but is a nunga pouncer like Mark Big Gob? Or kisses all wet and sucky like whelk boy?

Dave interrupted my brain, thank the Lord.

“So, how are you, chicklet?

I said, “Fab, fanks, I'm going to Hamburger-a-gogo land for a clown-car convention.”

Dave looked at me.

“YOU are going to a clown-car convention? Mad as a hen.”

I got quite huffy.

“I am very interested in old cars, as you know, and—”

Dave said, “You would rather snog Spotty Norman than go to a clown-car convention.”

Fair point, well made.

I said, “Well, there is another reason…”

Dave raised one of his eyebrows. Which was quite amusing.

We were passing Luigi's and Dave said, “Come on, let's do coffee, man.”

And we went in.

Oh, buggering bum's buggering bum. Sitting down at one of the tables were Wet Lindsay and Astonishingly Dim Monica.

Sacré
bloody
bleu
.

Perhaps they are doing reverse stalking.

Wet Lindsay almost threw up when she saw me with Dave. But she covered it quickly and was all dillydollyish with him. He said, “Hi,” and she batted her eyelashes and flicked her hair. She must have read
How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You
. If she tried toffee eyes on Dave, I would have to kill her. Even though Dave was slightly behind me, she looked straight through me and said to him, “Oh, Dave, it was really groovy at ‘Late and Live,' wasn't it? Mas and I had a great time. Did you and Rachel?”

I hate her double with knobs on.

Dave was coolosity personified.

“Yeah, it was cool.”

And then he deliberately pulled a chair out for me at a table not too near the grotesque twins. As I sat down he said loudly enough for them to hear,
“Now then, even though you treat me bad, what would you like, Ms. Gorgeous?”

He is soooo nice. I really like the way he is, you know, so nice to me.

five minutes later

As Lindsay and ADM went out Lindsay gave Dave what she probably thinks (wrongly) is her attractive smile. She said, “'Bye, Dave, maybe see you when Mas gets back.”

Then she stick-insected out of the door. Without leaving a slimy trail on the floor, surprisingly.

I said to Dave, “I hate her, I hate her. She called him ‘Mas.' How crap is that?”

Dave looked at me.

“You don't like her, then?”

As we drank our coffee (me trying to avoid the foam mustache fandango) I wanted to ask Dave if he could find out where Masimo was. But I didn't think I could just launch in, so I thought I would do some limbering-up questions first.

“Dave, you know those boys…Well, just before you got there, they ran into my legs on their bikes, then they rode off backward. Then they called us slags.”

Dave said, “Ah, the old running into your legs, riding off backward and calling you slags thing. Ah-hum. Well, it's obvious, isn't it?”

“What is?”

“They fancy you.”

“Pardon me?”

“Uh-huh. Clear as daylight.”

“But why don't they say ‘I fancy you'?”

“Because you might reject them in front of their mates.”

“So they think running into my legs on their bikes is better?”

“Yep.”

“And calling us slags?”

“Yep.”

“And they think that after they have done that, I will say, “Gosh, yes, I would love to go out with you. Once my legs heal up.”

“Yep.”

“But that is mad. Boys are mad.”

Dave looked all wise and did his eyebrow thing again.

We slurped a bit more, then I said, “But why? How does it work? You know at break at school, when you talk about personal stuff, well…”

Dave said, “Let me interrupt you there, kittykat. Lads don't talk about ‘stuff' at break. They play footie or that other well-known game ‘Do you know any good dentists?'”

I said, “What?”

“You know: ‘Do you know any good dentists? Because you are going to need one in a minute when I have to deck you.'”

Blimey.

Dave went on. “Of course we lads have the same feelings, we just communicate in a different way. Sometimes it does get personal, though.”

I looked at him. This was better.

“Yeah, for instance, yesterday one of the fifth form hung his girlfriend's knickers out of the Science block window.”

5:30 p.m.

Walked home after my session with the Hornmeister still in a bit of a daze. When we said s'later he gave me a kiss on the cheek and didn't attempt tickly bears or anything. Perhaps he is going straight. Who knows? But on the plus side he has said he will find out all he can about Masimo for me. He is such a good boy-type pal.
He didn't mention Rachel, which is a bit odd, as she's supposed to be his girlfriend.

5:35 p.m.

Crossing into High Street I bumped into Tom. I like Tom, even though I think he is mad to go to Kiwi-a-gogo land. And go out with Jas. And go on camping fiascos. And go on about food produce. Other than that, I like him.

He seemed to have a touch of sadnosity about him when he said, “Alright, Gee?”

“Yes, fanks, alright as an…alright thing. And you?”

He was unusually silent for him and eventually just said, “You'll look after Jas for me, won't you?”

I said, “You bet your gol'darn bottom dollar, mister. I've got a gun and I'm not afraid to use it.”

He just looked at me.

Like I was talking complete rubbish or something.

6:00 p.m.

Home in my room, covered in ungents for tip-top beautosity.

I will say this, mashed banana is vair vair good for the luuurve complexion, which is not easy to say when you have a face full of mashed banana.

I wish I had a photo of Masimo. I hope I don't forget what he looks like. I'll just lie down in my (unusually empty) bed and have a mental snog with him.

6:25 p.m.

Oh, buggering God's bum. Angus and Gordy have come in and started playing the “mouse disguised as a foot” game. They attack my feet for a bit really viciously until I pull my feet up under my bum, then they lie down and go to sleep. But they are not really asleep, they are just pretending to be asleep. As soon as I snuggle down to snooze off into Masimo land they leap on my foot underneath the blankets and wrestle it. Then they “go to sleep” again. They don't really think that my foot is a mouse and that it will creep out when it sees they are asleep, do they?

6:40 p.m.

How did Ms. Furry Tart, aka Naomi, get past the armed warden (Vati) and into my bed?

Blimey, I am quite literally lying in a cat basket.

6:45 p.m.

I wish she wouldn't do that lying on her back with her legs spread open thing on my bed.

6:50 p.m.

Gordy is sniffing her bottom. This is disgusting!!! In front of his dad. This is kitty porn—surely there must be some sort of helpline for this. A kittykat helpline.

It could be called Paws for Thought.

7:30 p.m.

Oh, Masimo, soon we will be together and you can tell me all about Pizza-a-gogo land. The music. The art. The snogging. I wonder if they have special techniques that go with their passionate Mediterranean temperament? I hope he doesn't get carried away and nibble my lips off.

7:35 p.m.

No, I hope he does!!! Nibble away, Luuurve God!!!

wednesday may 11th
in my bedroom
7:07 p.m.

How many hours is it till we go to Hamburger-a-gogo? Jas will know. I'm not phoning her though.

Doorbell.

I went quietly to the top of the stairs and looked down. Crikey Loon Alert! It was my grandad and he was wearing shorts! Not his huge, all-encompassing grandad shorts that he wore during the Boer War, but bicycle shorts. In Lycra. Good grief.

Please, please tell me he has not taken up cycling. Please.

I went back to my room quietly. Maybe if I hide behind the door they will think I am out and JUST GO AWAY.

one minute later

Oh, yeah. Dream on.

Mutti called up, “Georgie, Grandad's here!”

I kept silent behind the door. Naomi, Angus and Gordy were all in my bed—again—doing their idiot cat staring at me. They had better not give my position away. It would be alright if it was just Gordon—
because of his cross-eyedness you would have a one in two chance of not being caught because although one of his eyes is fixed on me, the other is glancing out the window. The advance loon party came clanking up the stairs.

“Gingey, Gingey, it's meeeeeeee, Libbbb-eeeeee…. Where is you?”

I heard her huffing and puffing outside my door and doing her alarming laugh. “Hoggyhoggy. Here I come, reggy or nut.”

Then she kicked my door and it burst open, very nearly flattening my nose.

“Owwwwww.”

She put her mad little face around the door and smiled at me. When, and how, did she lose her front teeth? And why did she think it was attractive to push her tongue through the gap?

“Gingey, there you is! Cheeky monkey.”

She threw all the cats off the bed and started tucking Scuba Diving Barbie and Jesus/Sandra up nice and comfy under the duvet. I tried to reason with her.

“Bibsy, that's not really Barbie and, er…Sandra's bed, is it? It's my bed and there is no room for—”

She put her arms up to me and said, “Kiss.”

Oh, blimey. She is cute, though. I picked her up to give her a little cuddle and she put her hand on my nose and was sort of squeezing it and twirling it around. It's quite painful, actually—dear God, I hope it doesn't swell up.

Grandad was the next to arrive at the open bedroom loon party. He popped his head around the door and said, “Hello love, I've just been to the doctor because I've got a steering wheel down my shorts. I said to him, 'Doctor will you do something about this steering wheel down my shorts, it's driving me nuts!!!' Do you see? Steering wheel, driving me nuts!!! Do you get it? Do you?”

How DISGUSTING!

He's an octogenarian.

My ears feel like prostitutes.

8:00 p.m.

Thank the Lord, Grandad has gone, unfortunately not before giving me a present from his “girlfriend” Maisie. I am sorry I ever suggested that Grandad was mad. His girlfriend has reached new and giddy heights of bonkerosity. Have you ever been given knitted toeless socks? In green, yellow and purple?

No, I thought not.

Grandad is going to house-sit the kittykats for the week we are away. I said to Mutti, “Let's just burn the house to the ground before we go. Because that is what it will be like when we get back. Face it.”

Mum said, “You are so rude, Georgia, you'll be old one day yourself.”

I was going to go put my toeless socks on to give her the gist of what I was saying about the elderly insane, but then I realized I was on a charm mission. Also, Jas's parents were coming round in half an hour. So I said, “Shall I make some snacks for when Jas's M and D come round?”

She looked at me like I had just suddenly turned into a talking egg.

Even Gordy stopped eating Mum's mules and looked at me with one eye.

9:30 p.m.

Phew. Me and Jas did secret thumbsie upsies as she and her mutti and vati left. Yessssss! And thrice yesss! We are off to Hamburger-a-gogo land!!

Jas has got one hundred squids for spendies. It turns out that we are going to Memphis. I don't
know where that is exactly, but how far can that be from where Masimo is? Wherever that is.

11:00 p.m.

All's well that ends well. Libby is in her own bed with Barbie and Our Lord Sandra, and the big cats have been thrown outside to lay waste to the vole population. Gordy is in his basket in the kitchen. So I can get some well-earned beauty sleep. My nose doesn't seem any more swollen than normal.

11:15 p.m.

Dad says that Elvis Presley lived in Memphis and he was a musician (not that you would know that from the crap songs that Dad sings). Anyway, he was a musician and Masimo is a musician, ergo Memphis must be somewhere that musicians hang out.

midnight

Pray God that Dad doesn't take his Elvis Presley quiff with him. Sometimes for a “joke” he sticks the quiff on and starts shaking his hips about—
it's disgusting. And also probably very dangerous hipwise for a man of his years.

He and his lardy mates, the “lads,” think it is hilarious.

It isn't.

12:05 a.m.

Anyway, what do I care, I am on Cloud Nine in Luuurve Heaven.

We go on May 22nd, which is eleven days away. I am sooooo excited.

12:10 a.m.

In the past Hawkeye has called me a ninny and has said that I “had the attention span of a pea,” but what she doesn't know is that I have powers of discipline that would surprise a lot of people who accuse me of laziosity.

When I put my mind to it I can do stuff. For instance, even though I am tired now and it is midnight, it is imperative that I get up and go to the bathroom and cleanse and tone my…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

thursday may 12th
on the way to school
ten days to hamburger-a-gogo land

“Jas, I am so vair vair full to the brim with excitementosity. Aren't you?”

“Hmmm.”

“Yes, so am I. Let's sing ‘New York, New York' to get us in the mood.”