Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 05 (13 page)

midnight

Poor Jasy spazzy has gone home to her bed of pain. On one hand, I am really sorry for her, but on the other foot, I can't help remembering how she didn't give a flying fig's pants when Sex God went to Kiwi-a-gogo.

12:05 a.m.

However, to be a jolly good pal (and I sincerely hope that Baby Jesus is not having the night off in Africa or something and is therefore noticing my goodness, and planning a reward in the shape of a gorgey half-Italian half-Hamburger-a-gogo bloke)…anyway, what was I saying before I so rudely interrupted myself…oh yes, to be a jolly good pal I may get her a Curlywhirly and wrap it up in special wrapping paper.

12:15 a.m.

Oh, I can't sleep. I wonder how I can get to Masimo and impress him with my whatsits. Feminine willies. If I wait until the gig, he will be quite literally covered in girls.

Dom told me he goes to St. Budes art college. I could accidentally on purpose bump into him on my way home.

The fact that it is on the other side of town is a bit of a logistical problem. I may even have to bunk off school.

12:20 a.m.

Which might mean I would miss “gaseous interchange” in blodge, which is a blow.

12:25 a.m.

However, as “gaseous interchange” is another term for breathing and farting, I can make up for lost time by being in the same room as my father.

friday april 22nd

on the way to stalag 14

Despite my very wise trouser speech to Jas, she has decided to punish Tom by not seeing him or speaking to him.

I said, “How long has this been going on?”

And she said, “Well, I didn't get home till quite late last night, so…”

“So…you haven't actually been able to ignore him yet?”

“No, but when I see him I will.”

She is still very unstable and sniffly. I gave her my special Curlywhirly gift with its special Christmas gift wrapping. We were just walking up the hill when I handed it over. It didn't have a very good effect on Jas—she looked at it and then flung her arms around me and started really blubbing and wailing; she was saying, “Oh Gee, you are such a good pal and I've been horrid to you…
I am sooooo sorry, I really love you. I know you are always asking me to say so and I never will, but I do. I do love you.”

Crikey. She had gone bananas. I thought she would stop after a minute, but still she went on. I tried to walk on but I ended up sort of shuffling along with her hanging around my neck. I bet it looked like the lezzie version of
Blithering Heights
. All I needed now was for Masimo to come by. Or some notorious sadists like Wet Lindsay or Hawkeye. Then I thought of the worst-case scenario…Miss Stamp. If Miss Stamp came by now, she would be in Lesbian Heaven. She would ask us round to her place for “tea.” She would offer me extra coaching…oh my Giddy God…

I pushed Jas off me quite firmly and said sternly, “Jas, remember your Ramblers' badge—don't let yourself down, remember the Country Code.”

What on earth was I talking about?

It seemed to make some sort of sense to Jas, because she stopped sniffling and adjusted her beret.

I went on cheerily, “Six months isn't long…is it? It's only twenty-four weeks. You could do
something really great in twenty-four weeks for when Tom comes back.”

She said, “Could I…like what?”

I said, “Well…you could…grow your fringe out and that would be a good thing, wouldn't it? A new you, Jas, imagine it. A new fringeless you.”

I could see I had got her attention, which is sad really.

break

We have had an extraordinary meeting of the ace gang on the blodge knickers toaster to discuss the Jastragedy. The nub and gist is that we have taken a sacred vow (you make the vow and then are given a Chinese burn by the person next to you). Anyway, the sacred vow that we will never break is, “We, the ace gang, will never let any boy come between us and the ace gang. We are one for one and one for all, once and for all.” Or whatever it is that the Three Musketeers say.

I have to say in principle I agree, but in practice I crossed my fingers whilst I made the vow because if I can snaffle Masimo, I'm afraid it is one for one.

english

I think everyone must have crossed their fingers, because our vow of sisterhood lasted about ten minutes. We'd just settled down for an hour of complete misery and bollocks (
Blithering Heights
) when two window cleaners bobbed up at the windows. They were not what you would call very fit-looking boys, but they were boys. And none of us had seen a boy for…er…about an hour and a half, if you don't count Elvis Attwood, which we don't.

The whole class had a massive dither attack; some girls dived under their desks and started applying lip gloss and some started flicking their hair around like loons.

Miss Wilson said, “Now, girls, settle down, it's just a couple of window cleaners. You are all acting as if you have never seen a member—”

She was interrupted there by Rosie saying “Ooer.”

Miss Wilson went fantastically beetroot but carried on, “as if you have never seen a…a…person of the male…gender. Please show a bit of grown-up behavior and don't let yourselves down.” Then she started tripping lightly in the valley of
the prehistoric. “When I was a young lady, I—”

Jools said, “Did you meet the Swan of Avon, Miss?”

Miss Wilson rambled on, “No Julia, I did not meet the Swan of…er, it's not the Swan, it is the Bard of Avon.”

Jools went on, “Oh so you knew him quite well then, if you knew his real name.”

By this time most of the class were pressing themselves up against the windows and Miss Wilson had to go for reinforcements. Hawkeye soon saw the lads off into a different part of the school.

Boo. Still, at least it had passed a pleasant half an hour, and we hadn't been forced to wander round blasted heaths and so on.

lunchtime

Practically the whole school has been tracking the window cleaners like they are pop stars, chasing them about and screaming, it's mad.

Wet Lindsay and her henchwomen no sooner hand out reprimands and beatings (not really, but they would obviously like to) than another group of girls creeps up.

Even the little first formers were prancing about, singing stupid songs like “Window cleaners, window cleaners, give us a wave, give us a wave.”

In the end Captain Mad (Elvis Attwood) set up a sort of armed guard to keep us at bay. Although, to be frank, I don't think a garden hoe is going to frighten some of the Upper Fifth if they decided to have a go. Melanie Griffith could just send her nunga-nungas on a lone expedition and he would be on his back.

 

Even Jas is cheered up, and she is determined to come to the gig to show Tom how much she is ignoring him. As I left her at her gate, she said, “You have got to help me ignore him and make him jealous and so on.”

“Jas, I am not going to snog you for anything.”

1:00 a.m.

I have got everything ready for tomorrow night, even though I want to play it cool and just sort of remind Masimo who I am. I am not going to be throwing myself at him or anything. I am going to play the callous sophisticate.

 

The callous sophisticate with really groovy false eyelashes, or my boy entrancers, as I call them.

saturday april 23rd

It's like a hobbit house. Vati has got himself and Uncle Eddie big false ears. You can imagine how attractive Uncle Eddie looks in his. Also I didn't know there was a gay elf in
The Hobbit
but there is, and it is my dad. He is leaping around in his green tights going, “Oooohhh hello, I am Legalet!!”

Libby and Gordy have gone round to Grandad's for the night. God help them one and all, the mad meet the very very mad.

The most appalling thing has happened. The woman in the next-door madhouse to Grandad thinks she is his girlfriend and keeps knitting things for him.

Double sadly, she can't knit. As a lovely gift, she knitted him a jumper. It was only after ten minutes of him nearly suffocating that we discovered that she hadn't knitted a neck hole.

11:30 a.m.

I have got my bedroom to myself as makeup headquarters. Even Angus is out. He is defending his
love for Naomi against her new suitor, Manky. If Mr. Across the Road thought that Angus was Naomi's bit of rough he should see Manky, who is definitely her bit of rougher. Manky and Angus have already had a duel at dawn—Angus came home with a bit of Manky's tail as a victory souvenir. I may frame it.

4:00 p.m.

Now then, I've written a list of hit points for my plan.

• 1.
  Steam, cleanse and tone. Apply primer coat of pale ivory base coat, paying special attention to any lurker incidents.
  
• 2.
  Coat eyelashes with talcum powder for maximum buildup of mascara. (This is a top model tip—along with putting a white spot in the middle of your lips to make them look bigger—actually, I won't be doing this bit. I don't want any suggestion of Koko the Clown to mar my evening of LUUUUURVE.)
  
• 3.
  Dust all over face with powder to avoid the shiny twit look.
  

OK, I've done all that, now to point four.

• 4.
  Inspect for any orangutan outbreak.
  

As I was trying to see the back of my legs in my hand mirror, Legalet came prancing in. “Hello, I'm Legalet and…bloody hell, Georgia, what in the name of your grandad's outsize cycling shorts have you done with yourself—you look like a ghost.”

I leapt into my wardrobe and said from in there, “DAD, how DARE you look at me, I've only got my foundation coat on. And this is my bedroom. I don't come snooping around in your room—in fact I have the good manners to ignore you.”

As he went out, Legalet said, “Oh the joy of fatherhood, it never fades…by the way, what time do you want me to pick you up?”

What?????? He was dressed as an elf. An elf picking me up in a Robinmobile. Nooooooooo.

I said, “Hahahhhahah, er, don't you remember? Jas's dad is picking us up.”

Fortunately he is too excited to question me closely about Jas's dad, who is in fact in Birmingham tonight.

7:00 p.m.

I don't ever remember being this jelloid before, not
even when I had Terminal Horn syndrome for the Sex God. I can hardly move my eyelids for mascara and false eyelashes. I wonder if they look natural? I didn't get the ones with the false diamonds in them. I just got the thick long ones.

 

Oh I can't take them off now, it took me about a million years to put the glue on and stick them on. It is not as easy as it sounds on the packet. What I go through for luuuurve.

stiff dylans gig
8:15 p.m.

We all got massive Giggling Gertie syndrome on the way to the gig. Even Jas joined in with the jollity; she is determined to let Tom know that she has a life of her own. I didn't point out the obvious fact that she hasn't, because I am full of sympatheti-cositisnosity. Which is not an easy thing to say.

Anyway, she is letting Tom know that he is not the only codpiece in the sea. Going along High Street clattering along on our high heels, we sang “The girls are back in town, the girls are back in town.” We were doing the linking up thing. We all link arms and are not allowed to break the chain
for any reason. It makes getting round corners or crossing roads practically impossible. God help any poor person coming the other way; they could be dragged along with us for hours. Strangely, people seemed to cross to the other side of the road when they saw us coming.

We were allowed to break armsies at the entrance to the Phoenix. I was soooo excited, and sort of frightened too. Ellen, Mabs, Rosie and Jas hadn't even seen Masimo yet.

In the tarting-up area (loos) we reapplied lip gloss for maximum snoggosity.

Rosie said, “What is your cunning plan, Georgia? Full frontal or glaciosity with just a hint of promise?”

I said, “Deffo glaciosity with a hint of p.”

“Is that why you are wearing furry eyelashes?”

I gave her my special cross-eyed Klingon look. “These, Rosie, are not false eyelashes. They are boy entrancers. They hint at a sophisticosity beyond my years.”

The ace gang went out into the club and I had one last check in the mirror. I practiced my “sticky eye” technique. God, I was good—I practically got off with myself.

Out in the club it was really kicking, quite dark and groovy. In fact when I first came out of the tarting-up area, I couldn't see anything for a minute until my peepers got used to the lack of light. I don't think the boy entrancers help.

The ace gang had formed a posse around Jas at a table near the front. Tom, the official ostracized leper, was at the bar with a couple of mates. I could see no one else of any interest apart from loads of lardy blokes and some girls from our school.

9:35 p.m.

My nerves are shot to pieces. I can't stand the tension of this—I have to go to the piddly diddly department every five minutes. Jas was making me worse; she was Ditherqueen and a half. Going on and on about Tom.

“Is Tom looking at me? Don't look.”

“Jas, I can't see if I don't look. But don't worry; I will be very casual. I will startle you with my casualosity. I will sip your drink and look through the bottom of the glass and see if he is looking.”

I lifted up the glass and looked.

“He's not looking at the moment—oh yes, hang on, hang on…yes, he's looking now.”

Jas said, “How does he look, does he look upset?”

“Er. Hang on, there is a bit of ice cube in the way, I'll just eat it…er, he's talking to Matt, oh oh now he's looking over here.”

Jas said, “How is he looking—is it just like looking looking, or is it like, you know, looking like he's made a big mistake wanting to go and snog sheep instead of staying with me?”

I said, “Jas, it's a bit difficult to tell looking through the bottom of a glass, also I am getting neck spasm. Have I smeared my lip gloss?”

I am truly a bloody great pal.

10:00 p.m.

I hadn't even seen Masimo yet. I can hardly remember what he looks like; maybe I had imagined he was groovy. I hadn't actually stood right next to him. Perhaps he was a bit of shortarse, or maybe he had an irritating laugh. Or he had grown a goatee. Or he liked elfs…or…

Then the DJ said, “And now it's time for The…Stiff Dylans!!!”

And they came onstage. Everyone except Masimo. Dom said into his mike above the whoop
ing and clapping, “Cheers, thanks a lot, we're back! And tonight we would like you to go wild for our new lead singer. He's not entirely an English person but someone with a touch of Latin blood—calm down, girls…I give you…Masimo. Ciao, Masimo.”

And Masimo came onstage. Oh crumbly knees
extraordinaire
. He is, as I may have mentioned before, the Cosmic Horn personified. The girls at the front were going bananas jumping up and down. (Which is not something I would try, even with my extra-firm nunga-nunga holders.)

I said to Jools, “How very little pridosity they have got.”

Jools said, “I know. The next thing you know they'll be creeping around backstage getting up on boxes and stalking him.”