A Midsummer Tight's Dream

by Louise Rennison

  I will tell you what is on the not-normal topic list.

  Knees.

  Spontaneous Irish dancing.

  Face-licking.

  Lavinia.

  I know she only wants to be pretend friends with me because she likes Alex.

  So what is normal?

  I can’t mention my home life.

  Oh, I know, I can read my A Midsummer Night’s Dream and then I could talk to him about that. I could even drop in a line casually mentioning my doing the play and how it would be good to get his ideas.

  Right, here we are.

  In the SparkNotes about the play it says the major themes are love’s difficulty, magic, and dreams.

  Spooky.

  That’s me and Alex.

  I woke suddenly when it was still dark because I’d fallen asleep and had a nightmare. Harold had knitted me some tights and I had them on when Charlie walked into my squirrel room and said, “I’ve got a girlfriend. Do you want to see her?”

  And he got a small blond girlfriend out of his pocket. Then Dr. Lightowler flew in, onto the top of the wardrobe, and said, “Look at her uncontrollable legs.”

  Then Cain and Alex came through the window and Cain said, “Show us the knees, soft lass, I feel like licking them.”

  I shouted, “I can dance! I can dance!”

  And I tried to dance and found that Harold had knitted the legs of my tights together.

  Eat the boat!

  I MUST HAVE DRIFTED off to sleep properly because suddenly it was gone eight and I had to race around to get to Dother Hall in time. I put on my new yellow lacy corker holder and a yellow jumper that Georgia helped me to get.

  The jummie is quite clingy.

  Good. That’s good. And my hair is bouncy and perky. And shiny. If I wear a skirt with dark tights it makes my legs look almost normal length. I made sure my tights weren’t knitted together.

  I thought everyone had gone when I went downstairs because it was all quiet. I made for the door with my breakfast banana. (I don’t mean the banana was walking along with me, I just mean … anyway, it wasn’t a walking banana.)

  But then Dibdobs popped out unexpectedly from the cupboard under the stairs.

  She beamed at me.

  Her beaming can be quite alarming first thing in the morning.

  She blinked at me through her glasses. She is the smiliest, oddest person I have ever met. I like her though. Sadly she wasn’t on her own in the cupboard.

  She smiled and said, “Great news, Lullah. We started to knit the Christmas hats last night. We are hoping the whole village can have one. The twins are modeling theirs.”

  Max and Sam came out of the cupboard in their knitted antler hats. As she pulled them out of the door, Dibdobs said, “What color would you like, Lullah?”

  I was a bit late as I ran across the green. It was overcast and looked like rain. Ruby was just setting off up the hill to her school with Matilda. Matilda had a rain hat on. Ruby saw me running and yelled over, “Ay, Loobylullah, you really jiggle when you run! Ta-ra, see you later.”

  I waved at her and crossed the bridge and then jogged into the woodland lane that led to Dother Hall. Or “Dither Hall” as Mr. Barraclough calls it. I am surprised that the vandal who changed Skipley, Home of the West Riding Otter to Skipley, Home of the West Riding Botty hadn’t had a go at our sign.

  Despite the Charlie thing, I have a song in my heart and my song is “Woo-hoo-hoo-hooo. I’ve got corkers and I got a letter from a Dream Boy. Wooo-hooo-hooo, the jiggler is back in town!!!”

  First thing we changed into our dance gear and went straight into the dance studio and Blaise Fox was there. She has had her hair cut into a crew cut and dyed white blond. She was dressed in silver leggings and enormous shorts.

  I said to the others, “Oh no, she’s got her drum.”

  She shouted, “Here you are again, you little minxes. And here I am, the minx mistress. And yes, you will notice I have my drum!!!!”

  Monty came rushing in, well, as quickly as he could in his leotard. He was carrying a megaphone. Blaise said, “Now, girls, I know it’s the second day back and we need to ease our way into things gently so we are going to do an improvised free-form version of Jaws.”

  We looked at each other. Jaws. The film about a killer shark that is mostly underwater? And …

  Monty put some seaweedy-looking stuff on his head.

  Blaise shouted, “Right, girls. It’s a calm day and you are the sea. Feel the sea. Find your inner sea. BE the sea!”

  Monty was encouraging us by scampering around in his leotard. With his seaweed head.

  Jo said, “Is he a sea anemone? Or a jellyfish?”

  Actually, in his pink leotard he looks more like a jellybaby.

  Monty was doing a bit of light leaping. And singing, “Wish, swish, wish, swish.”

  Flossie started swishing backward and forward, throwing her arms above her head. She said, “That’s my foam.”

  Oh, well, in for a penny, in for a pound, the rest of us started doing a sort of giant hokey cokey. Pulsing in and pulsing out.

  It was quite soothing. I could have done it all day. Backward and forward. Swishy swish swish. Other girls were rushing backward and forward, flapping their arms around. I didn’t know that waves could do skipping, but what do I know, I was doing the hokey cokey.

  Then Blaise started beating her drum.

  Softly at first. Bang-bangity-bang-bang.

  She pointed at Milly and her mates and said, “Now then, this group here, you be little children playing around in the lovely waves. Splashy splashy. Laughy laughy laughy. In amongst the swishy swishy.”

  This was all very pleasant and soothing for first thing in the morning.

  The drumbeat started getting louder and faster.

  Blaise shouted, “Tallulah, you be the shark.”

  What? How do you be a shark?

  Blaise shouted through her megaphone, “Flossie, Vaisey, you are the boat, and Jo, you are the madman in charge. The drunken insane captain.”

  Flossie and Vaisey started being the boat, and Blaise was yelling through the megaphone: “Splice the mainbrace!!! Clean the poop deck!!! MORE RUM!”

  I started doing breaststroke.

  Blaise said, “Oy, shark, look, no, don’t look because you can’t see, SNIFF …”

  I started doing sniffing and breaststroke. Jo nearly fell overboard she was laughing so much.

  Blaise said, “There’s some children playing in the shallows. Start sharking toward them. Children, keep playing around and splashing, you’ve nothing to think about except what kind of ice cream you will have … la la-la, la la-la … You don’t see the sharky yet.”

  Blaise was yelling at me. “You’re getting a bit peckish and looking for snacks.”

  She and Monty started a joint impro of the theme to Jaws on megaphone and drum.

  “Der der … der der … Come on, shark, circle nearer … der der, der der … oooooh, look at those little legs waving about … der der, der der … ooooh, one of the children has seen your fin!!!!!! They are all trying to swim and make for the shore. One of them is swimming out to sea. Quickly, quickly, your supper is escaping!!!”

  I don’t know what I was doing. I think it was mainly fast crawl and teeth baring.

  Monty got carried away, flung down his drum, and tried to be a heroic surfer diving in to save the little children. But I gradually dismembered him. I have to say, he made an absolute meal of the whole thing. (Tee-hee, must put that in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary.)

  I had to sit on him in the end. Which is quite clever for a shark, I think. People say that sharks have brains the size of a walnut. Corker size, in fact, but …

  I couldn’t think anymore because Blaise was shouting at me: “Rear up and bite his head off!!! Eat the boat, eat the boat!!!”

  Two hours of it.

  I’m exhausted. Everyone’s exhausted. I think Monty ripped his leotard.

  And also I have a big bruise on
my bum where Jo as the mad old captain stuck a mime harpoon in me.

  Jo said, “Sorry about that, Tallulah—too much rum.”

  She doesn’t know her own strength.

  I’m so hot that my hair is sticking to my head. Flossie fell over a fire bucket because her fringe had glued itself to her glasses. I can’t tell you how red Vaisey was. Even her curls have gone droopy.

  When we staggered into the loos I glanced into the mirror—a red-faced orangutan stared back at me. Its hair plastered down to its skull. It was panting.

  It was me. Mr. Sharky. Thank goodness Alex the Good can’t see me now. As I supported myself against the sink, I realized I am surrounded on every side by notices from Bob.

  Listen up, Dudes, forget the towel.

  The towel is yesterday.

  Shake your hands about a bit.

  And even by the (switched-off) radiators:

  Cold? You will be if the Ice Age comes again.

  After I had shaken my head around to dry my hair I went into the loo. On the loo door it said:

  Couldn’t you hang on for a bit?

  Oh phew. I was certainly feeling the bleeding slippers of fame. And maybe even the bleeding bottom of fame. I’m going to just have a look to see if I have got a bruise on my …

  Flossie shouted, “Lullah, where are you? We are going to the sacred tree again to eat our lunch.”

  I said through the door, “I’m just having a little private …”

  Flossie looked at me from under the door.

  “Poo?”

  “Er, no. I’m just …”

  Then Jo’s head popped up over the next cubicle.

  “Come on. You’re being selfish, just looking at your own bottom. I want to talk about me and whether Phil might be at the tree today.”

  This was ridiculous.

  Vaisey’s curls bobbed up next to Jo and she looked down at me and said, “My head’s not so red any more, is it? Maybe the boys will be at the sacred tree. Come on, Lullah.”

  I was being looked at in the loo. This would have never happened at my old school.

  I staggered out. Ouch, ouch!

  When we got there, the boys weren’t at our tree.

  I said, “Come on then, let’s go back.”

  Then we heard the barking of dogs in the distance. And coming nearer, the sound of panting and crashing through the trees.

  It was really scary and for some reason we all got onto a tree stump that was about a foot high, and held on to each other. Vaisey practically had her head buried in my corker area.

  The barking was getting closer and closer and so was the panting and crashing.

  I said, “Maybe it’s a pack of wild otters.”

  Jo said, “I can hear barking.”

  I said, “Well, a pack of barking wild otters.”

  Jo said, “Otters don’t bark.”

  I said, “They do now.”

  Flossie said in a doomy voice, “No, no, it will be Fang and his wild child puppies.”

  Noooooooooooo.

  The panting and scuffling got nearer and nearer. We closed our eyes. I was so tired after being Mr. Sharky, I said, “Please don’t hurt us. We mean you no harm.”

  The crashing stopped and a voice gasped, “Bloody hell, it’s the Tree Sisters on a stump!”

  Charlie.

  It was Charlie, Jack, Ben, and another couple of lads we had seen about from Woolfe Academy. But no sign of Phil. Perhaps the otters had got him.

  We were still on the stump while the boys flung themselves onto the ground, panting and sweaty. They had tracky bums on and vests with numbers on the front. And attached to the numbers were a couple of sausages.

  Jack was getting his breath back, but then he said, “Hello, Vaisey,” and he beamed at her.

  She looked a bit shy and then smiled back at him. Her curls were all smiley. She’s right—Jack has got a nice cheeky face. His teeth are crooked but in a good way and he’s got curly hair like hers. As I was looking at him I caught Charlie’s eye and he smiled.

  Him with his crinkly turning-up smile. And his really nice, slightly curly, dark blond hair, and hands and legs. And so on. But then I remembered what Charlie had done to me the last time I had seen him. Swine.

  Boy swine. I would give him my icy icicle treatment. I didn’t smile back at him. I just looked away.

  Then Ben smiled at me. Oh yes. With his floppy hair and his bat kissing. Yeah, his bat kissing and then saying that I was too young for him. Swine. Floppy-haired swine.

  All boys are swines.

  They snog you and dump you. Or lick your face. Or put bats in your mouth. Apart from Alex, who wouldn’t dream of licking your face and even if he did I would probably like it and, and …

  Charlie was still panting but he said to me, “Oy, oy, Tallulah, we meet again. I’ve got a top view of your exceptional knees here, wrapped up in what look like dance tights. Have you got any snacks?”

  I became icicle-like. I was an icicle in dance tights. I stepped down from the stump, trying to hide my knees, and said coolly, “Hello, Charles, I’m afraid I have no snacks, sadly. Why don’t you eat your sausage?”

  Charlie looked at me in amazement.

  Vaisey said, “You’ve got your secret crisp stash, Lullah.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  Charlie said, “Lullah, it’s me!”

  Jo leapt down from the stump, threw herself into his lap, and gave him a huge hug. She said, “Charlie, Charlie. I’ve got a banana you can have.”

  Charlie gave her a big hug and took the banana.

  There he goes again. Hugging. Eating people’s bananas.

  I know about his type.

  A type that hugs a friend. (Also known as me.) And then pretends that he likes that friend’s knees. And is all round friendly and huggy. And then goes from hugging to snogging. And does good knee-trembling snogging. Then stops and says, “This is wrong, I’ve got a girlfriend.” And then goes back to his stupid pocket-sized girlfriend to hug her. Leaving a trail of hugs.

  While I was wondering what to do next, Jo said, “Charlie, where’s Phil? How come he’s not with you? Is he in detention already?”

  Charlie put his arm around her. I couldn’t help it—I felt a bit jealous. Of my own pal. But Charlie, the serial hugger, is in fact very good-looking and when he smiles his mouth turns up at one side. It’s a very nice shape mouth and you can actually imagine it pressing against your … Oh no! I have forgotten my icicle work.

  Charlie hugged Jo a bit more and said in his deep voice, “Er, no, he’s not in detention. He’s not even at Woolfe. Phil’s not coming back to Woolfe.”

  Jo leapt up.

  “What do you mean Phil’s not coming back to Woolfe??”

  Oh no.

  Jo’s little face was all red and hot.

  Her conker head was bobbing furiously.

  “He didn’t even tell me. Doesn’t he like me anymore? I didn’t even punch him very hard and he—”

  Charlie said, “It’s nothing to do with that. He really does like you.”

  Jo looked puzzled, and like she was about to cry.

  “He told me about telling the police that teenage boys are people too. And he tidied his room.”

  Charlie said, “Yeah, well, it got announced in assembly this morning. The headmaster at his old school has given him a second chance. For good behavior. Our headmaster, Hoppy, said he was an inspiration to us all.”

  Jo said, “What do you mean?”

  Charlie said, “I’m so sorry to tell you this, but he’s being sent back to ordinary school.”

  We were all shocked.

  I said, “Phil … ordinary school? No. No, that’s …”

  Vaisey said, “It’s inhuman.”

  We could hear the barking and shouting really near and Charlie scrambled to his feet. He had his back to me as he looked into the woods. He’s got a nice bottom. Not that I think about bottoms. Or noticed his bottom particularly. It just happened to be there. Att
ached to his legs.

  Jo was saying, “But I won’t ever see him again.”

  Charlie hesitated.

  “I can’t stay now. Hoppy has organized a drag race for the beginning of term and I’m one of the foxes. We have to leave a trail of sausages so that the dogs and other boys can hunt us down.”

  Flossie said, “Mmmm, nice. So you boys are actually like animals in joggy bums.”

  The boys started to run off. Jack called to Vaisey, “See you at the gig.”

  And she said, “Look!” and showed him the plectrum. He gave her a thumbs-up and a big grin and he went off.

  Charlie stopped as he went by me and looked me in the eyes and said quietly, “Look, Lullah … about that thing … that happened … well, can we … forget about it?”

  The barking was getting very near now.

  He said, “Oh, bugger it,” and turned and ran off into the woods after the others.

  What did “Oh, bugger it” mean in boy language?

  What does “can we forget about it” mean?

  As we walked back to Dother Hall, Vaisey was all flushed and said, “Jack gave me a thumbsy-up for having his plectrum.”

  She was all smiley.

  Jo wasn’t. She’d gone all floppy and miserable. She wasn’t the only one. I was thinking about what Charlie had said to me about “forgetting about it.”

  Well, he could rely on me.

  I’ve forgotten about “it” already. Whatever “it” is.

  The show must go on. Even with a bruised bottom.

  Human glue

  JO WAS QUIET FOR the rest of the day, and then after last bell she disappeared.

  Vaisey said, “Maybe she has gone on the roof. Like when I thought that Jack had dumped me. You know, when Cain told him about the band rules.”

  Oh yes, I remembered. Cain had told Jack that he couldn’t go out with Vaisey because the band members of The Jones didn’t have regular girlfriends. He said it was “anti-band” practice. Cain would say that.

  We trooped up the stairs past the dorms and then up the narrow stairs that led on to the roof.

  When we got there we discovered that Bob had put a Danger Area—absolutely NO Admittance. Dangerous tarpaulin notice across the stairs to the roof with a bit of ribbon to stop us going there.