‘…startled by his furry shorts!’. Louise Rennison

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ in last night with her T-shirt on inside out. How am I supposed to know how to behave? Why would any Luuurve God want to have anything to do with me? Oh nooo, please don’t let me blub.

      Tom looked at me and then he put his arm around me. “Listen, Georgia, if he doesn’t get you then its his loss. You’re fab; we all know that.”

      Jas even had a go at being nice. “Yes, you are, er… fab, and you are so, you know… you. I mean, you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t you, would you?”

      What was she rambling on about?

      Tom was fishing about in his rucky. “I’ve got something to show you, Gee.”

      Oh blimey, now he was going to get his newts out or something, at a time like this. He handed me a pile of photos. Oh good, they were of his trip to Kiwi-a-gogo land. How interesting. Not.

      I flicked through them. Trees, trees, sheep, trees, Kiwi-a-gogo people in big boots and shorts and funny beards. And the men were just as bad!!! Hahahahahaha. Oh, shutup, brain. More sheep, wombat droppings, rogue bores, more beards, sheep, trees, sheep and… then I saw the photo of you know who. The Original Sex God Heartbreaker. Smiling into the camera. With dreamy dark blue eyes. Suntanned. Standing in a river wearing shorts. Thank goodness I had eschewed him with a firm hand and felt nothing.

      One minute later

      Corrrrrr. And also phwoar.

      Back in my bedroom of pain

      7:00 p.m.

      I felt like a goosegog extraordinaire round at Jazzy Spazzy’s. All that hand holding and giggling, it’s pathetic. I may as well have been the wife of the Invisible Man. Mrs Invisible Man. It was all kissy kiss kiss, “Oooooohhh, Tom, do you like my new shoes? Oooohhh, Tom, I’ve got a new owl.” Pathetic. I would never do that in front of anyone. I needn’t worry, though, because if Masimo chooses Wet Lindsay, I am going to be living in a lesbian monastery for the rest of my life.

      Five minutes later

      Life really has gone merde when I can’t even speak to my besty pally because she is so BUSY with her boyfriend.

      Well, so be it: if she chooses Tom above me, that is her lookout.

      I will be eschewing her with a firm hand.

      A LOT.

      Like I am eschewing Robbie.

      I will not have him in my brain. There is no room for anyone else in the cake shop of agony; it’s crowded enough in there already. And, anyway, Masimo is my one and only one.

      Maybe.

      Ten minutes later

      I hate Jas. My so-called friend and bestie.

      But I tell you this for free: she will never know how much she has hurt me. I might be in pain, but at least I have my dignitosity.

      That I will never give up for anyone.

      One minute later

      Phoned Jas.

      “Jas, what do you think Masimo will say? Do you think he wants to go out with me? Would you go out with me if you were him?”

      “Oy, don’t start that lezzie business again.”

      “Jas, I am just asking you to imagine being him and what you would think about me if you were him. I mean, you wouldn’t pick Wet Lindsay over me, would you?”

      “She’s got quite nice arms.”

      “Jas, that is the wrong answer. The correct answer is, ‘Of course I would choose you every time, Georgia, you gorgey creature.’”

      “Well, if you already know the answer, what is the point of asking me the question?”

      “And, by the way, what do you mean she has got nice arms? She’s a stick insect, therefore she’s got sticky thin stupid arms. And unusually enough for a stick insect, it doesn’t stop there – she’s got a stupid forehead and stupid feet and—”

      “I’ve not seen her feet unclothed. Have you? When did you see her feet?”

      “Jas, I don’t know that I have seen her feet, but I know that they are sad. Anyway, stop going on and on about her feet. I’m not interested in her bloody feet.”

      “Well, I didn’t start the feet business. I was only being polite.”

      I slammed down the phone. I may be having a nervy spaz.

      I’d better eat something sweet.

      In the kitchen

      Nothing to eat, of course.

      I must and shall have sugar.

      Five minutes later

      Never have sugar on bread. It is disgusting.

      7:30 p.m.

      I had better plan what I’m going to wear the day he comes round to see me. It may be the deciding factor between happinosity and sadnosity.

      I must make sure he doesn’t see me in my school uniform. It will only remind him that I go to school.

      I think I’ll practise smiling in the mirror.

      7:40 p.m.

      Oh, what larks, I’m developing a lurker on my chin. Perfect. It should just be nicely ripening into a massive red pus-filled second chin by Friday.

      Five minutes later

      Typico, I have run out of spot cream. I could squirt some perfume on it; that sometimes works. What does it say in CosmoGIRL! vis-à-vis lurker alerts?

      Five minutes later

      Apparently you are supposed to lure out the lurker by encouraging it to come to a head. You should steam the area. With a steaming thing.

      Ten minutes later

      I’ve had my face over a boiling saucepan for the last year and a half, and although my face is bright red and dripping with water, the lurker is still lurking there happily.

      In Cosmo’s beauty hints it says you can use a poultice to draw it out. What can I use as a poulticey-type thing? It says a muslin bag with herbs and stuff in it.

      In СКАЧАТЬ