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

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t ask me anything about it. Just let it go. Please talk about something else, just don’t ask me about it. Please please.

      Slim was all trembly and jelloid. “Can you tell me, Georgia, what is quite so amusing about Herr Kamyer’s experiment on the vibration of atoms?”

      I tried. God knows, I tried. “Well, Miss Simpson, it’s just that he used a tea towel... he used a tea towel...”

      “Yes?”

      “He used a tea towel to... keep his balls still.” And then I was off again.

      Midnight

      Bloody funny, though.

      Thursday May 27th

      Tennis tournament

       2:30 p.m.

      Through to the semifinals. Beautiful sunny day. I think I will be a Wimbledon champion after all. White suits me. All the gang are cheering me on and this is very freaky deaky and karmic and weird but... if I win my semi against Kirsty Walsh (upper fifth) I will play Lindsay in the final. How weird is that? Pretty weird, that’s what. Lindsay is such a boring player, I’m sure I could beat her. She plays by the book... baseline follow through to the net, but she hasn’t met Mighty Lob (me) yet.

      OK, if I beat her that must mean I am meant to have Robbie. Lindsay has white frilly knickers on under her tennis skirt. (Not the thong, thank goodness, otherwise Miss Stamp might have had an outburst of lesbian lust and put me off my game.) I think my shorts are much more stylish. They look like I’ve just remembered I’m playing in a tennis final and I’ve just grabbed something and thrown it on in an attractive way.

      3:30 p.m.

      I won the first set and now I’m serving for the second and the match.

      I feel pretty good. I’m a bit hot but I feel confident about my serve. Rosie and Ellen and Jools and Jas and all of my year are going mental. Chanting my name and “Easy, easy.” Hawkeye keeps telling them to be quiet. (She is the umpire, worse luck.)

      But even she can’t make me lose. Hahahaha. I am ruler of the universe. Robbie is mine for the plucking.

      First serve – an ACE!!! Yes! Yes! Yesssss!! Hawkeye says, “Fifteen-love.”

      Second serve – a brief rally and then a cunning, slicing cross-court forehand from me. Hawkeye says, “Thirty-love.”

      Third service. Whizzzz. Oh yes, another ace!! Kirsty was nowhere. What a Slack Alice. C’mon if you think you’re hard enough!!!!

      Hawkeye says, “Forty-love.”

      The whole court is hushed as I serve for the match. I take my place behind the baseline. Jas is playing nervously with her fringe. I looked at her. She stops.

      I throw the ball up and bring my racquet down, putting a bit of top spin on it. Kirsty doesn’t even try to get it. ACE!!!!

      Hawkeye announces through tight lips, “Game, set and match to Georgia Nicolson.” Yesss!!!!! Victory!!!!!!

      I fall to my knees like McEnroe and the crowd is going mad. Full of euphoria I fling my racquet high up into the air.

      It curves and falls down and hits Hawkeye right on the head. She is knocked off her umpire chair, unconscious.

      In bed

       8:00 p.m.

      I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. Hawkeye was only unconscious for about a minute but I was made to forfeit the match. Kirsty played Lindsay. I couldn’t bear to watch – more to the point, I wasn’t allowed to watch – I had to go and tidy all the gym mats.

      Lindsay won the cup.

      I don’t know what this means karmically. I don’t think I believe in God any more.

      11:00 p.m.

      The only way I will believe in God is if something really bloody great happens to me soon.

      

      Friday June 4th

      The pyjama party sleepover

       5:00 p.m.

      Mum will not get going. Why is she so slow? Libby still has not got any knickers on. I offer to put them on her and Mum says, “Oh, would you, love? Thanks. I cannot find my eyebrow tweezers anywhere. You haven’t seen them, have you?”

      (I remember they are in my pencil case.) “Er... no, but I think I saw Libby with them.”

      “Damn, they could be anywhere.”

      Libby decided that “knickers on” was a game and I chased her around for ages before I could get hold of her. Then when I was putting her knick-knacks on she was stroking my hair, going, “Prrr prr. Nice pussycat. Do you want some milk, tosser?” I think she thinks “tosser” is like a name.

      Once I got her dressed I raced upstairs and got the tweezers, then I put them in Angus’s basket. (Fortunately he was out murdering birds or he would have eaten them.) Then I shouted to Mum, “Hey, Mum, guess where your tweezers are? Come and see!”

      Mum came out of the bedroom and I pointed to the cat basket. She said, “Honestly!! Thanks, love. Right now, I think that’s everything. We can get off now, Libby.”

      She grabbed Libby, who was struggling and licking her face. Libby said, “Bad, bad Mummy, stealing Libby.”

      As they went through the door Mum said, “You’ll be OK, won’t you? I’ll be back late tomorrow – eat something sensible and don’t stay up too late.”

      She went through the door and then came back a moment later. “Don’t even think about doing anything to your hair.”

      6:00 p.m.

      Rosie was the first to arrive. She said, “Sven is going to come at about eleven thirty, after his restaurant shift finishes.”

      I said, “What have you got up to with him?”

      She said, “Er... six and a bit of seven...”

      We had this scoring system for kissing and so on, from one to ten:

      1. holding hands

      2. arm around

      3. goodnight kiss

      4. kiss lasting over three minutes without a breath

      5. open mouth kissing

      6. tongues

      7. upper body fondling – outdoors

      8. upper body fondling – indoors (in bed)

      9. СКАЧАТЬ