The Complete Fab Confessions of Georgia Nicolson: Books 1-10. Louise Rennison

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      When we got back James and me were listening to records and reading old joke books and suddenly he switched off the light and said, “Shall we play tickly bears?” Tickly bears!! We used to play that when we were about five. One person would be the tickly bear and they would chase the other person and tickle them and, er... that’s it. I was so shocked (and also couldn’t see a thing in the dark) that I just sort of went “Nnnnnnnnnn”. And then he said, “Grr gotcha!” and started tickling me. It was the most embarrassing thing. But it didn’t end there – a sort of wet thing touched my face near my nose. I leaped up like a salmon and stumbled for the light. James sort of stood up and then he picked up a joke book and started reading it. So I did as well. Then he got taken home by my dad. The wet thing on the nose incident was never mentioned. Like the leg.

      I don’t think I can stand much more of this.

      Monday September 28th

      11:00 a.m.

      At break I told Jas and Jools everything. They went, “Errgghhhlack, that’s truly disgusting. Your cousin? That is sad.” Jools said that she had actually seen her brother’s “how’s your father” quite often. She said, “it’s quite nice, really, like a mouse.” She lives in a world of her own (thank God). Well bless us, Tiny Tim, one and all, I say.

      4:15 p.m.

      On the way home. I could kill Jas. She’s all excited about the party and I might as well not go now. Jackie and Alison caught up with us on the way home. Jackie had so much make-up on. And her hair was all done. As we passed the loos in the park she made us stand lookout whilst she changed out of her school uniform.

      “I’m off clubbing,” she said from inside the loos, mistaking me for someone who was remotely interested in what she did.

      “I didn’t think that clubs opened at four thirty,” I said.

      She called out, “Don’t be dim, Ringo.” (I hate her. I hate her.) “I’m off to my mate’s first to get ready, put my makeup on and everything.” Put her make-up on? If she put any more make-up on she’d hardly be able to hold her head up because of the weight.

      She emerged in a sort of satin crop top and tight trousers: she looked about twenty-five.

      “I’ve got a date with the DJ at Loveculture – he’s so cool. I think he’s about thirty but I like mature men.”

      After they’d gone I walked on with Jas. “Do you think that Jackie has ‘done it’?” I asked her. Jas said, “Well, put it this way... is the Queen Mother really, really old?” Sometimes Jas is quite exceptionally mad. Just to prove my point she went on, “Gemma Crawford was telling me that she knows a boy who gives kissing lessons. Do you think we should go before the party?”

      I just looked at her. “Jas, are you suggesting that we go to a male prostitute?”

      Jas went on, “He only does kissing and you don’t pay.”

      I just tutted.

      10:00 p.m.

      I lay on my arm until it went numb and then I lifted it (with the non-numb arm) on to my breasts. I wanted to see what it felt like to have a strange hand on them. It was quite nice, but what do I know? I’m too full of strange urges to think properly. Should I wear my bra to the party?

      10:05 p.m.

      Urgh, it’s horrible when the feeling starts coming back into your arm when it’s been numb.

      11:07 p.m.

      Kissing the back of your hand is no good because you can’t tell which is which – which is lip and which is hand – so you don’t get a proper sensation from either. Do boys have this trouble or do they just know how to do stuff?

      11:15 p.m.

      No, is the answer, if the “tickly bear” incident is anything to go by.

      Tuesday September 29th

      8:30 a.m.

      Biology, double maths, Froggie and geoggers. Qu-est ce que le point?

      In my room

      6:00 p.m.

      What a fiasco. Jackie and Alison decided that today was the day for the Aleisteir Crowley fandango in the 5C form room.

      It’s amazing how few people stand up to them, including the teachers.

      We all trooped up to 5C after second lunch. This in itself is a fiasco – you have to lurk outside the main door until the coast is clear, then dart to the downstairs loo, check if the coast is clear, then leap up the stairs to floor one and so on, up to the fifth floor.

      I was shattered by the time I got up there. There were seven of us all in peak condition – i.e. spluttering and coughing. Jackie said we were going to do a black art act of levitation, calling on the dark forces to help us. Oh goodie, we’re summoning the devil. What larks.

      Why, I thought, oh why am I here? Maybe if we are going to be forced to commune with the devil I could strike some sort of bargain with him, swap my dad’s soul in exchange for bigger breasts for the party on Friday.

      Abby Nicols “volunteered” to be the sacrificed one and she had to lie down on a desk. Jackie went at her head and Alison at her feet and then the rest of us spread out evenly around her. Jackie said, “Please be very quiet and concentrate, we are summoning dark forces. Put one finger of each hand underneath Abby’s body and then we will begin.”

      We all did as we were told. Then Jackie shut her eyes and started chanting in a low, husky voice, “She’s looking poorly. She’s looking poorly,” and we all had to repeat it after her one by one round the desk. Then she said, “She’s looking worse. She’s looking worse. She’s looking ill. She’s looking ill.”

      Actually, she was looking a bit peaky by this time. It went on for about five minutes as Abby’s condition deteriorated. Finally Jackie whispered, “She’s dying. She’s dying...” We all repeated it. “She’s dead. She’s dead.” She certainly did not look at all well and she was as stiff as a board. I couldn’t see her breathing.

      Then Jackie said, “Help us, oh master, to send Abby Nicols upwards.” And then she said, “Lift her up,” and it was really freaky-deaky because I just slightly lifted with my two fingers and she sort of rose up really easily as if she was light as a feather. She was right above our heads. It was weird.

      After a couple of minutes we all simultaneously got the jitters and let her down really heavily on to the desk. This seemed to perk her up a bit, because as we ran out I heard her saying, “I think I’ve broken my bottom.”

      11:00 p.m.

      I woke up with a start because I heard the bedroom door open. It just opened by itself...

      Wednesday September 30th

      7:30 a.m.

      I can’t move my head from side to side because I sat up in bed all night and I have cricked it now.

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