Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 08 by Love Is a Many Trousered Thing

nose fondling or chin fondling.”
    God, she is soooooo annoying. And fringey.
    â€œJas, I am just trying to tell you what happened, this is not the Spanish Inquisition. You are not El Quasimodo.”
    She got into her Huffmobile then. “I didn’t make these snogging rules up, Georgia, you did.”
    We were just passing a litter bin and for a minute of ecstasy I thought about shoving her in botty-first like Dave and his mates did. But actually if I did shove her in there, she might get stuck because of her enormous pantaloonies and I would have to call the fire brigade to cut her out. Besides which, I must remember I want to stay at her house on Saturday night after the gig in case there are any ad-hoc snogging opportunities—so there’s no chance of Vati picking me up in his circus clown car.
    So instead of hitting her or anything, I just smiled my loveliest smile and said, “Jas, you know that you are my besty pal, and like the Wise Woman of the Forest to me. Can I just tellyou what happened?”
    She flicked her fringe about and said, “Go on, then.”
    I told her all about the Italian holiday idea. Even she was quite impressed by that.
    â€œWow, well that is like almost being an official girlfriend, isn’t it? You are really going to have to decide soon. But you don’t really know if Robbie likes you, do you? I mean you know he likes you like matewise, but does he think you are girlfriend material? I couldn’t stand being you, not knowing who my boyfriend was and everything. I was with Tom last night and we were just, you know, rearranging my owl collection into sizes together…it was really, oh I don’t know, and then he got hold of my hand and put my fingers in his mouth and sucked them.”
    I said, “Blimey, hand snogging, what number is that on the scale?”
    Jas said, “I dunno, four and a half, do you think? It was only the fingers not the whole hand.”
    I didn’t ask her who she knew that could fit a whole hand in their mouth because it was all making me feel a bit queasy.
    stalag 14
9:30 a.m.
    Wet Lindsay is on my case big time. As I was passing her to go to games, she said, “Walk properly.”
    What does that mean?
    tennis courts
    I was playing singles against Melanie Griffiths. Honestly, it shouldn’t really be allowed. Her nungas are definitely a health hazard. I don’t think she can really see over them to hit the ball. I was winning, by about eight-five-million–nil. The most dangerous times were when she had to bend over to pick up the balls. Quite often I thought she was just going to topple over.
    Then Wet Lindsay and Astonishingly Dim Monica came sliming along and actually came into the court and sat down on the chairs by the net. Wet Lindsay was just looking at me, and if looks could kill, I would be deader than a dead person on dead tablets. In dead land.
    She looked at me but went on talking to ADM really loudly. “If I had a big nose I think I would find it very difficult to disguise. It is just something youreally can’t get away from, isn’t it? I mean, people say Barbra Streisand is a good singer, but mostly they say, “What an enormous nose.”
    I didn’t mean to, but I found myself sucking in my nostrils as I was serving. Maybe I could just accidentally serve and knock her off her chair. I didn’t dare, though, because she would probably snitch to Miss Wilson or Hawkeye and I would be made to polish Mr. Attwood’s spade collection for the rest of my life.
    Octopushead hadn’t finished, though.
    â€œI don’t know what to do about Masimo and Robbie, I mean they are both gorgeous. Aren’t they? And you don’t want to upset anyone’s feelings, but…”
    I could see as I was dashing around the court, and waiting for Melanie to regain her balance, that ADM was nodding away like a nodding dog-person. Lindsay was rambling on, flicking her stupid