Withering Tights. Louise Rennison

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      “Come and do a bit of weaving, Tallulah, it’s fun! Mr Barraclough often brings us ginger beer and does impressions. He did a very funny one of a ferret up his trouser leg last time.”

      I said I would pass.

      In my squirrel room, I looked out across the moorlands. Some of the pigs are being herded down the path at the back. The boy who was driving them along looked familiar, sort of wild and dark. As he passed by, two of the piglets charged off and he went after them with a stick to prod them. He shouted, “Ay up, Smoky and Streaky, get tha sens back on to path.”

      Smoky and Streaky.

      How mean was that?

      Everything is so different here. And even though the girls are only messing about, I know for a fact that Honey plays the piano, and so does Vaisey. And Vaisey has been a suicidal nun.

      Should I drop that thing that cousin Georgia said about Norwegian art into the conversation? What did she say it was called? Sled-werk.

      There must be something I am good at. Besides being able to get stuff down from the top shelf.

      Maybe there’s going to be a violent thunderstorm. I’m glad I’m not in the dorm with a blanket over my head. It’s hot and sticky, even though it’s after nine o’clock. I’ve done my corkies-rubbing exercises and I can’t say I can see any difference yet. Although my arms look slightly bigger.

      Right, I am going to open my envelope to find out about the assignment for tomorrow:

       Tomorrow we begin our big adventure. Be prepared. Sleep.Bring comfortable workout clothes.And now…think of a word, or words, that sum you up.Dream on it.Bring it to the college tomorrow.

      A word or words that sum me up?

      I lay in the squirrel bed thinking.

      Nobbly?

      Long?

      Corkie-less?

      Oh, that’s attractive, isn’t it? In conclusion, I am a long, nobbly person with no corkers.

      Help!

      I can’t sleep, it’s no use. I’m too hot. And I’m too worried (and nobbly and long).

      I’ll think about something else. What though?

      Oh, I know. Dad sent me a book through the post from wherever he is. Anyway, it turns out to be a James Bond book. In his note, Dad said I would learn a lot from it. He says he did.

      I’ll just open it randomly.

      Oh, here’s some stuff about boy things. James Bond and Honeychile. Ooh, that’s funny, isn’t it? Being a bit like Honey.

       It was unbearably hot in the hotel bedroom in Jamaica. Outside, the geckos and parakeets were settling down noisily for the night.

      I’ll just have to try and imagine the noise of the parakeets above the baa-ing and grunting outside my window.

       Honeychile got up from the bed and took off all her clothes. She went and stood next to the window.

      Crumbs.

       Bond went across to her and took a breast in each hand. But still she looked away from him out of the window.

       “Not now,” she said in a low voice.

      Is that what you’re supposed to do?

      I went to the open window. And when I looked down I saw a boy and girl, um, snogging. The girl had her back to me and her arms wrapped round the boy’s neck. I couldn’t see his face. I wondered if it was like in the James Bond book and he was holding one of her breasts in each hand?

      If he was, she would turn her head away in a minute and say, “Not now”. I couldn’t see because of the angle…And that’s when she snuggled into his shoulder and he looked up at my window.

      He looked at me.

      I looked at him.

      I was like a rabbit in a headlight.

      Maybe I can pretend I’m just drawing the curtains.

      There aren’t any curtains.

      Perhaps I could pretend to be cleaning the windows.

      I haven’t got a duster.

      I could use the sleeve of my jim-jams.

      Good. Good idea.

      Creative.

      Improvise cleaning a window.

      He was still looking at me.

      As I started cleaning the window with my sleeve.

      Then he winked at me.

      How disgusting.

      To be snogging one girl and winking at another.

      What sort of person did that?

      He is like a wild animal.

      A winking, snogging, wild animal.

      Then the girl said, “Oy Cain, what are you looking at?”

      I shut the window quickly.

      Cain. Why is he always underneath my window?

       CHAPTER 5 Into the bosoms of the Dother ship

       We first learn to fill our tights

      I woke up early the next day. I’d been dreaming that I had a bra made out of soap. It slipped off when I did my special audition dance and everyone laughed.

      I am going to tie my hair up and wear a hat. Cain won’t recognise me again out of my jim-jams, will he?

      Oh Lord, he has seen me in my jim-jams. Watching him snog.

      I went down to breakfast and the Dobbins were all as cheerful as people who hadn’t been caught in their jim-jams in the middle of the night. Pretending to clean windows. But really watching people snog.

      The twins were ready for an action-packed day of being really odd. Dibdobs said in her beamy way, “Morning, Tallulah! Say morning, boys. To Tallulah.”

      They looked at me.

      Sam said, “Oo been seeping?”

      Dibdobs laughed, “Yes, clever boy, Tallulah has СКАЧАТЬ