Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 05 (14 page)

I said kindly, “Quiet now, Jools. I am concentrating.”

 

The hard thing to do is to be noticed but not to be noticed being noticed, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

He was so gorgey and a fantasadosy singer
and soooooo sexy. When he was singing you felt like he was really looking at you; he would have had a hard time, though, because I was practically under the table—I didn't want to reveal myself too soon…ooer.

The joint was really rocking and we had to dance. It was like being at the sheepdog trials and dancing, because Jas was so paranoid about Tom getting to her we had to circle round her dancing. When any one of us wanted to go to the piddly diddly department, we all had to shuffle and dance off together and then shuffle and dance back to our place.

I was exhausted and managed to have a bit of a breather by the stairs and it was there that Tom got me.

“Georgia, why were you looking at me through a glass for ages?”

“I…er…well…”

“Did Jas tell you to, does she want to, you know, sort of make up? I mean, it's only six months and it's such a great opportunity. Can't you make her see?”

“Tom, I have to tell you this, I am Jas's friend
and we are officially
ignorez
ing you, you are a mirage to me, I can't even see you actually.”

He said, “And nothing would make you help me.”

“
Non
, and also we have taken an oath involving torture.”

He just looked at me.

“What if I could help you really casually bump into Masimo?”

“Pardon?”

“I met him the other night at snooker.”

“You met him…he met you…you he…”

“Yes. And he will come and say hello to me in the break and I could be casually talking to you.”

I said with all the dignosity I could, given that my skirt was so tight, “And you think that I would betray my bestest pal Jas just for some bloke I hardly know? When I have taken a solemn vow with Chinese burns and everything?”

Tom looked at me. “If you don't mind me saying so, you are quite literally criminally insane.”

11:00 p.m.

In the loos, Jas was sitting on the sink going on and on about her heartbreakosity. “He's a cad and
a…user. He went out with me to fill in time until he could go snog sheep.”

Rosie, Ellen, Jools and Mabs were going “Yeah, you're so right. Creep.”

And “Yeah, never have anything to do with him again.”

Then they lost interest. Who wouldn't? And they all went back in to do mad dancing. It was just Jas and me. My little upset pally and me.

And only two minutes until the band had a break.

Jas was raving on and fiddling around with her fringe; I resisted slapping her hand because of her condition. Tempting, though.

She said, “I just can't believe him, all those weekends trailing badgers and mushroom hunting, I can't believe they just meant nothing to him. It's as if we never found that skylarks' nest…”

“Jas.”

“Or that vole nest in the banks of the river…”

“Jas.”

“I may as well never have learned how to make a fire without matches.”

I got hold of her.

“Jas, I think you should speak to him.”

“What??”

“I think you should, you know, talk it over with him.”

She stood in front of me really red-faced. Bit scary actually.

“Georgia, are you saying that after all this, after all I have been through, I should TALK it over with him?”

I said, “Er…yes.”

And she said, “Oh, OK then.”

She is unbelievably weedy, but I didn't say so because I wanted to check my boy entrancers before I went outside.

I said, “I'll go and talk to Tom first so that you don't lose your pridosity. I'll go and tell him that you might think about letting him explain himself. Then I'll come back to you and you can look like you are shaking your head and so on and I am trying to persuade you. Then eventually I will tell him that he has four minutes and thirty seconds of your time. And I'll stand behind you with a watch.”

11:07 p.m.

The band had left the stage by the time I went over to Tom. I said to him, “Mission accomplished. She
will talk to you, but I have to go over and try to persuade her, but you will know that we are acting.”

Tom gave me a hug. As he was hugging me (and I have to say that even though I blame him for being the brother of a Sex God who left me for wombats, I do like him)—anyway, as he was hugging me, Masimo came from the dressing room. As he walked through the crowd it sort of parted before him. There was an awful lot of flicking of hair and smiling going on. And that was just the boys!!! No really, it was the girls, especially that trollopy Sharon Davies; she's had blond streaks put in her hair. I don't think they look very natural. Not like my boy entrancers. I put an extra slurp of glue on them when I was in the loo just now so there is no chance of them coming off. I was just watching Masimo. Not directly. I was looking over Tom's shoulder. As I was being Miss Cool I saw Wet Lindsay walk in with her sad mates. She had a ludicrously short skirt on. If I had legs as thin as hers, I would wear big inflatable trousers so that I didn't startle anyone. But she is too selfish to bother.

Ohmygiddygod Masimo was coming our way. Tom winked at me. Then he called over to Masimo, “Hey Masimo, ciao.”

Masimo heard him and smiled and came over. Oh please please don't let me go to the piddly diddly department in the middle of the dance floor. When he reached us I could feel the heat of him being near me. Good grief and jelloid knickers akimbo. He said, “Hey Tom, ciao—and it's you. Let me see…the lovely Ginger.”

I went, “Hahahahahahahahahahaha” until Tom hit me on the back.

Tom said, “No, this is Georgia.”

I said, even though I knew I should shut up—but you know when you should shut up but you go on and on—well I had that, “Ah well, you see, Libby thinks I am half cat, half sister, and she…er…calls me Ginger sometimes.”

Tom went on trying to rescue me. “Georgia went out with Robbie for a bit before he went to Whakatane.”

Masimo looked me right in the eyes. “Robbie is, how you say in English, not in his right brains to leave you behind.” And he smiled again. Phwoar. I had to look down because I couldn't trust myself not to leap on him. I looked down and then I was intending to look up and do that looking up and looking away thing, and also possibly a bit of flicky hair.
Unfortunately when I tried to look up again, I couldn't because my boy entrancers had stuck to my bottom lashes. So my eyes stayed shut. They were glued together. I kept trying to open my eyes but I couldn't. In sheer desperadoes I said, “Oh I love this one.” And started wobbling my head around to the music.

The tune was Rolf Harris's “Two Little Boys,” the naffest record known to humanity. Ohmygiddygod what should I do? I kept up the head waggling and I was raising my eyebrows up and down to pull my eyelashes apart. I bet that looked attractive. I thought I'd better do some humming. I started humming along to the tune.

Masimo said, “Would you like to have a drink?”

Hummmmmmm hummmmmmm…

“No thanks,
non grazie
, I must groove to this one.”

I must get away. I turned and head-wobbled off. I couldn't see a thing obviously, so to stop myself from crashing into anything I put my hands out in front of me, but then I thought that would look odd so I tried to fit it into my dancing. I put one hand out in front and waved the other above my head like disco dancing. I knew the loos were sort of to my right and if I could just get there I could rip my
boy entrancers off.

My “grooving” arm banged into something soft and someone said, “Oy, mind my basoomas, you cream-faced loon!”

It was Rosie, thank God. I said to her, “Rosie, lead me to the loos.”

She said, “Clear off, you lezzie.”

I was still madly flinging my arms around. Hopefully Masimo would think it was the eccentric English way of having a good time. Either that or he would be phoning for the emergency services.

I said to Rosie, “My boy entrancers have stuck together. I can't open my eyes. Do something.”

She said, “Quick, put your hands on my shoulders and we'll conga dance over to the loos.”

“Rosie, I don't think that's a very good—”

Before I knew it, she had forced my hands onto her shoulders and we were doing the conga. Fifty-five million years later I broke free from the conga line—once we had started doing it, the whole club had joined in. I yelled at Rosie to stop and take me to the loos, but she was having too much of a laugh. I got my hand to my eyes and tried to pry the lashes apart, and that is when one of them fell off in my hand—the boy entrancer I mean, not my eye.

I could see! I could see! I ran into the loos and ripped off the other one.

11:30 p.m.

I took a big breath and went into the club again. He had said I was lovely, and that Robbie had lost his brains to have left me. Which I think is a plus.

Tom and Jas were snugged up in a corner talking and the rest of the so-called sheepdogs were all smooching with lads. That's when I saw Masimo. He was talking to Wet Lindsay, she had her stupid head really close to his.

in bed
1:00 a.m.

Raining.

Thundering.

Lightning.

Triple
merde
.

And a half.

1:05 a.m.

This is my unbelievable life, I am home in bed on Saturday. And my parents aren't even in yet.

How cruel is life.

If I had a Yorkshire accent and ate cow nipples, I would be an exact facsimile of Emily Brontë. I've probably contracted consumption by being out in the wind and rain.

Good.

1:30 a.m.

Ohhhh.

What a crap night.

I didn't see Masimo again except onstage and he ignored me. I looked at him and I'm sure he saw me but he didn't smile or anything. Jas and Tom left early; so much for her strict four minutes and thirty seconds rule. At the end of the gig it was pouring down. Fabulous. Rosie, Jools, Ellen and I hovered about near the door waiting for the rain to ease off a bit. For once in my entire life I would have been glad to see Legalet drive up in the Robinmobile.

In fact as an ace gang we were quite literally hoisted by our own petards (which can be quite painful). Every single one of us had said that someone else's dad was definitely going to pick us up.

In the end we made a mad dash for a big tree across from the Phoenix and we were planning
what our next shelter would be when we saw Dom and the rest of the band come out and load up the van. It was raining so hard it was splashing up from the ground. Masimo wasn't anywhere around.

Then Wet Lindsay came out in her stupid leather coat with a stupid umbrella. All by herself, even deserted by her saddo mates. Teehee. I said to the gang, “Oh how thrice pathetico, she has to wait for her vati!!! Hahahaha.”

Ellen said, “Still, she hasn't got two gallons of water down her neck like I have.”

I said, “Look, she's all shuffly. I bet her thong is killing her. I hope so.”

I was just thinking that we could button our coats together and make a sort of tent over our heads when I heard a scooter revving up.

And Masimo appeared on his cool scooter with his parka on. I had a heart lurch. Then he pulled up to say good-night to the rest of the lads. And then—and I can hardly bring myself to think about this—Wet Lindsay got on the back of his scooter. I thought he would kind of shove her off, but he didn't, he took her umbrella and held it over her whilst she put on a spare helmet, then he tucked the umbrella away and they motored off.

Rosie said, “Bugger me.”

I got absolutely soaked on the way home but I didn't even notice. I was wet inside.

1:40 a.m.

Mutti and Vati are back, going “ShhhhhhSSSSSSHHHHH” really loudly. They've brought Libby and Gordy with them.

1:45 a.m

At last they are quiet and have gone into their bedroom.

1:48 a.m.

Vati has just farted “God save our gracious queen” and Mutti and he are apoplectic with laughter. Mutti stopped for a bit and then Vati said, “Now for verse two.” And they started laughing again.

They are sad.

But at least they have each other. I haven't even got my little sister in bed with me. I have no one who loves me.

And I never will have.

I really like him.

Once more in my bed of pain, crying.

2:01 a.m.

I think I must have cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew I got a big soggy cat bottom in my face. I opened my eyes to find four eyes staring back at me. Well, three eyes looking at me actually, and one was looking at the wardrobe…Angus and Gordy are absolutely soaking. They are doing shivering and cat sneezing. I said, “Go away into your baskets AT ONCE.”

Angus rolled over and started rubbing himself dry on my duvet. At first Gordy attacked Angus in between sneezing and then he started wiggling and diving into my duvet and burrowing under it near me. Urgh. I fished him out and lifted him up until we were eyeballs to eyeball and said, “Gordon, you are a very very bad kittykat—go into your kittykat basket.”

And he did that half-wit cat thing, he just let the tip of his tongue loll out of his mouth and left it there. Looking at me with the tip of his tongue sticking out.

Why do they do that?

Once they had both got nice and dry, they started scampering and crashing around in the dark in my room.

I put my head under the pillow.

sunday april 24th

I went for a long moody walk across the fields. I didn't want to be in to answer questions about last night. I didn't even want to talk to my mates.