‘… then he ate my boy entrancers.’. Louise Rennison

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      In my bedroom

      How can I find out exactly where Masimo is?

      Five minutes later

      I can’t trust Radio Jas to ask Tom to find out where Masimo has gone in Hamburger-a-gogo land. Anytime I ask her anything private it’s usually on the Radio Jas airwaves in about two and a half minutes. Her idea of being subtle and finding out things is that she goes out into the street and shouts, “Anyone know anything about this secret thing I am never going to mention?”

      Hmmmmmmmm.

      I hate to admit it, but I need the assistance of Dave the Laugh.

      Donner and Blitzen!

      If I could just accidentally bump into him on the way home then I wouldn’t have to phone him.

      Ten minutes later

      Because if I phone him and Rachel is there I will feel like a facsimile of a sham. I mean he is officially (ish) going out with her.

      Five minutes later

      Even though he keeps snogging me.

      Ten minutes later

      Anyway, how can I trust anything he says – it was him, after all, who said he fancied my mum!

      But then he is also my mate and official Hornmeister.

      Also, he said that I have accidentally done the right thing and become Mystery Girl with Masimo.

      Tuesday May 10^th

      on the way home

      Jas and me were ambushed by four Foxwood lads. Two of them deliberately ran into my legs on their bikes, fell off, got back on backwards and started circling us really fast yelling, “You slags!!”

      Why?

      We were just looking at them and then they fell off their bikes again, this time down a ditch. While they were climbing out we set off walking. After a couple of minutes we noticed they were lurking along behind us, pretending not to follow us. Then Dave the Laugh and his mates appeared round the corner. Dave smiled. He has a great smile and he looked as if he was really glad to see me. He has grown his hair a bit since I last saw him and it looked very cool. Oh shutupshutup, voice of the Horn.

      He said, “Hello, Sex Kitty and pal.”

      Then he saw the boy bloodhounds following us.

      “Well, if it isn’t Tosser Thompson and his band of trainee tossers. On your way kids.”

      Dave really is quite well built and he was just standing looking at them.

      One of the trainee tossers said, “Come on, it’s not worth it.” and they shuffled off, shoving each other and making pretend farting noises.

      Wow! It was a bit like Gladiator. But not set in Roman times, and Dave was wearing his school trousers and not a goatskin…More’s the pity. Shutupshutup.

      Dave put his arm around me.

      “You entice them, you know, with your sparkling personality and magnificent nungas.”

      He is soooo annoying. And rude. I tried to have a strop, but he is notoriously difficult to do that with.

      As we walked along Jas said, “S’later” and went off home. Dave’s mates all said “S’later” until it was just me and Dave.

      I don’t know if it’s because I’m surpressing my red bottom, but he does seem to be getting better-looking all the time. But no, no, he is not the only one and only. He is yesterday’s news. Last week’s snog. Anyway, I said to him, “Aren’t you rushing to meet your GIRLFRIEND? Won’t your GIRLFRIEND be upset if she sees you with me?”

      And he started that, “Are you mad?” thing. I managed to stop myself joining in, otherwise it would have developed into tickly bears and then possibly number six. Who knows?

      Who knows what goes on in my mind? I will be the last to know. Even when I am totally and without doubtosity in luuurve, absolutely wouldn’t dream of being with anyone else, etc. etc., still the Cosmic Horn rears its ugly head. And there is something about Dave and his special lip-nibbling technique. In fact he is one of the best snoggers I have come across, and I haven’t even snogged Masimo yet. What if Italian boys are useless in the snoggosity department? What if Masimo looks cool but is a nunga-pouncer like Mark Big Gob? Or kisses all wet and sucky like Whelk Boy?

      Dave interrupted my brain, thank the Lord.

      “So, how are you, chicklet?

      I said, “Fab fanks. I’m going to Hamburger-a-gogo land for a clown-car convention.”

      Dave looked at me.

      “YOU are going to a clown-car convention? Mad as a hen.”

      I got quite huffy.

      “I am very interested in old cars, as you know, and—”

      Dave said, “You would rather snog Spotty Norman than go to a clown-car convention.”

      Fair point well made.

      I said, “Well, there is another reason…”

      Dave raised one of his eyebrows. Which was quite amusing.

      We were passing Luigi’s and Dave said, “Come on, let’s do coffee, man.”

      And we went in.

      Oh, buggering bums buggering bum. Sitting down at one of the tables were Wet Lindsay and Astonishingly Dim Monica. Sacré bloody bleu.

      Perhaps they were doing reverse stalking.

      Wet Lindsay almost threw up when she saw me with Dave. But she covered it quickly and was all dillydollyish with him. He said “Hi” and she batted her eyelashes and flicked her hair. She must have read that book, How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You. If she tried toffee eyes on Dave, I would have to kill her.

      Even though Dave was slightly behind me, she looked straight through me and said to him, “Oh, Dave, it was really groovy at Late and Live, wasn’t it? Mas and me had a great time. Did you and Rachel?”

      I hate her double with knobs on.

      Dave was coolosity personified. “Yeah, it was cool.”

      And then he deliberately pulled a chair out for me at a table not too near the grotesque twins. As I sat down he said loudly enough for them to hear, “Now then, even though you treat me bad, what would you like, Ms Gorgeous?”

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