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

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СКАЧАТЬ around tomorrow after school. All you have to do is go to his house and knock on the door after four thirty and before six thirty when his parents get home. Apparently it’s first come first served. Has it come to this? No it has not.

      9:30 p.m.

      Had to discuss again with Jas what she is going to wear on Friday. She can go in the nuddy-pants for all I care.

      

      Thursday October 1st

      4:30 p.m.

      For some reason I found myself outside Peter Dyer’s house and knocking on his door. Ellen and Jas, Jools, Patty, Sarah and Mabs were all hiding behind the hedge at the bottom of the garden. What is the matter with me? I am DESPERATE – that’s what the matter is.

      I didn’t know whether to wear lipstick or not. I don’t know what the point would be if it was just going to come off... What am I saying?

      4:31 p.m.

      Peter opened the door. He’s about seventeen and blond, sort of sleepy-looking, not unattractive in a sort of Boyzone way. I notice he is chewing gum. I hope he takes it out, otherwise I might choke to death. There is muffled giggling from behind the hedge. Peter hears it but doesn’t seem fazed.

      “Do you want to come in – er – what’s your name?”

      I say, “Georgia,” (damn, I meant to say a false name) and we go into his house.

      He has tight blue jeans on and there are those tinkly things that the Japanese have outside the doors. (Not on his jeans, obviously – on the door.) You know... wind chimes. Why do they do that? It’s such an annoying noise and do you really need to know that the wind is blowing? We’re doing Japan in geography and to annoy Hawkeye I have memorised the islands. Hokkaido, Honshu... er, well, I nearly have. I did it last year with Northern Ireland, and reciting the counties (you remember them by the mnemonic FAT LAD – Fermanagh, Antrim, Tyrone, Londonderry, Armagh, Down) can be very impressive to trot out when you are accused of not concentrating.

      Oh-oh, we are going up the stairs to Peter’s room. He hasn’t said a word. His room is much tidier than mine. He has made his bed, for a start. On the walls are posters of Denise van Outen and Miss December, and so on. On my walls there’s a poster of Reeves and Mortimer showing their bottoms and a group shot of the cast of Dad’s Army. Is this the big difference between girls and boys? Is this... oh-oh, Peter is sitting on his bed.

      “Do you want to sit down?” he says, patting the bed.

      I think, No thanks, I would rather put my head in a bag of eels, but I say, “OK,” and sit down.

      He puts his arm round me. I think of putting my arm round him like a hilarious Morecambe and Wise joke but I don’t because I remember the stuffed olive incident. Then, with his other hand, Peter turns my face towards his. It’s a good job he didn’t try that yesterday when I had rigor mortis of the head. Then he says, “Close your eyes and relax.”

      9:00 p.m.

      Phew, I suppose I am a woman now. Libby doesn’t seem to realise as she has made me wear her deely-boppers to bed. She is insisting I am a huge bee. If I say, “Look, it’s your bedtime now,” she just goes, “Bzzzz bzzz,” and looks cross.

      I have to say, “Bz bz bzzy buzz buzz,” and point at her bed with my feelers before she will go.

      9:20 p.m.

      When I got home neither Mum nor Dad seemed to notice the change in me. Mind you, I’d have to walk in with my head under my arm before Dad would get out of his chair. He’s getting very chunky. I may mention it in a caring way. Anyway, as I said, phew.

      When I closed my eyes Peter said, “We’re going to do an ordinary kiss first.” Then he kissed me. We started off with number one kissing, which is just lips, not moving. He said I was a natural, not too “firm” or toothy, which is apparently very common.

      He told me how to know which side to go to (you sort of watch where the boy is going and then you fit in). Then we did a bit of movement and he told me what to do with my hands (waist is safest).

      Oh, we got through a lot in half an hour. We did a bit of tongues, which was the bit I was most scared of, but actually it wasn’t too bad, a bit like a little lizard tongue darting about. Cute really, in a bizarre way. The main thing to do is to strike a happy balance between “yielding” and “giving”. Peter says you can take a horse to water but you can’t make it kiss properly.

      At the end of the session (he had a little alarm clock) he shook my hand and saw me to the door. I passed Mabs on the way out – it was her turn. I was glad that I had gone first. Jools and Ellen and Jas tried to pump me on the way home but I said, in a dignified sort of way, “I think I’d just like to think about this for a while, if you don’t mind. Bon soir.”

      10:45 p.m.

      Hahahahahahahaha. I’m a natural.

      Friday October 2nd

      4:00 p.m.

      Party time!!! I don’t know why I’m so excited as SG is not even going to be there. But maybe I’ll be able to try out my new snogging skills.

      Jackie Mathews has got a huge lovebite on her neck. She’s put about six centimetres of concealer on it and is wearing a scarf... how inconspicuoso!! It’s HUGE! What has she been snogging with – a calf? I think it is so common. Why would you let someone bite you?

      The day dragged by. I really am going to complain about Miss Stamp – she should be working in a prison. I’m sure she has done before. Even though it was icy outside she insisted that in our games period we ran round the hockey pitch. You could see your breath. She found Jackie and Alison hiding in the showers having a fag and made them change into their sports knickers and do the circuit twice. Which is almost a reason to have her as a teacher. It was hilarious! Jackie might look OK when she’s all dolled up in some dark nightclub, but you should see her from behind in big navy knickers!!

      4:15 p.m.

      Only three hours to get ready and made up before I meet Jas, Jools and Ellen and the gang at the clock tower. We’re going to arrive together. Dad is insisting on picking me up at midnight. It’s useless arguing with him, he’ll only say, “You’re lucky, in my day... blah blah blah,” and then we’ll be back in the Middle Ages or the seventies as he calls it.

      7:30 p.m.

      Meet the gang. We look like a group of funeral directors going out for a drink. Black is our new black. Katie Steadman’s house is quite posh – she has her own room as well as a bedroom. Shagpile carpets all rolled up round the walls, for dancing.

      When we arrived there were about thirty people there already, including Tom. Cue Jas going all dithery and daft. He was in a group but he came over to talk to us straight away. I left Jas to it and circulated. It was good fun. I had a mad dancing phase for about an hour. I suppose I was vaguely looking for substitute snoggers for SG, but all the boys seemed a bit on the nice but goofy side. There were one or two most unfortunate skin СКАЧАТЬ