Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 07 by Startled by His Furry Shorts Page B

depressedperson, now a young girl going off to meet her boyfriend. God pretended he didn’t mind about me not rescuing Our Lord from Libby’s toy box sooner than I did, but this is his revenge. Nauseating P. Green was skipping round like a fool. If I were her boyfriend that she was skipping to meet, I would have run off quickly to the boyfriend asylum seekers home.
    Rosie was doing her famous orangutan impression. Actually it was very realistic, and it is how she goes off to meet Sven. Jas had a field day, fringe–flickingwise, and actually when she thought I wasn’t looking she was puckering and relaxing. And doing a bit of darty tongue. She is still haunted by her lip spasm fiasco. Ah well, how sad, never mind. Ellen was still sitting down on a bench dithering about. The bell will have gone before she manages to even set off to meet her imaginary boyfriend. So no change there.
    Miss Wilson was encouraging people and walking round showing us what she would look like going to meet her boyfriend. (Scary, sad, and with an alarming smile on her face.) Then she said to me, “Georgia, you’re still limping. And your back is all hunched over.”
    Yeah, and it’s not just on the outside.
    4:30 p.m.
    Walking home. Talking about the Wet Lindsay nightmare scenario.
    Rosie said, “What makes you think that she knows?”
    I told them what she said about the club and everything.
    Rosie said, “Ah I see, say no more, say no more, wink wink, nod nod.”
    And started doing the mad nodding dog thing, and chewing. They were all joining in. I was in the nodding dog parlor of life.
    Jas for once came up with a sort of sensible plan. “Look, I’ll ask Tom what is going on.”
    She looked at me from underneath her fringe and did quite a nice smile. “I’ll tell him to be, you know, well, not shoutey or anything.”
    I almost kissed her. I said to her, “Fanks, Jas, you can be a real pally sometimes and I, well, I…”
    Rosie noticed I was about to go off on a blu-bathon and said quickly, “Hey, do you know what book Tarzan wrote? Eh eh?”
    We all shook our heads, expecting the worst. And we got it.
    â€œLord of the Swings.”
    It was so crap, I must say it did make me laugh. A bit.
    Jools said, “Oh by the way, I meant to tell you Katie Steadman is having another party at the weekend and we are invited.”
    I don’t really feel like parties, but I suppose I have to go on being me.
    friday july 1st
1:00 p.m.
    Something unusually good has happened! I think. Maybe.
    We normally are made to go out at lunch and freeze around in the grounds whilst the Hitler Youth loll around in the warmey warm inside. So that is why we creep back inside and lurk around the Science labs. Usually the Physics lab. So that if there is a sudden Hitler Youth investigation we can leap into the fume cupboards and pull down the blinds. And crouch there until they go out again.
    As an additional security measure we crouch down underneath the windows so that we can’t be seen from outside. And we heap our Science overalls on top of us in case someone comes in and wedon’t have time to do the leaping into the fume cupboard scenario and we can pretend to be a pile of Science overalls.
    Actually as it happens it is absolutely boiling today. At least 180 degrees in the shade.
    Ellen said, “Can’t we just go outside? Instead of you know, er, being nearly dying from heat underneath a pile of old overalls. Or something.”
    The rest of the gang started nodding. I had to take a firm grip of the situation. I said, “Yes, yes, of course it would be nice sitting outside in the sunshine, maybe sunbathing and so on. But remember Good Queen Bess and so on, a principal is a principal and we will never give in to the tyrannical ways of…anyway, everyone under the Science overalls. Look natural.”
    one minute later
    Where was I? Oh yes, under the window. Which was