Away Laughing on a Fast Camel

by Louise Rennison

  break

  We have had an extraordinary meeting of the ace gang on the blodge knickers toaster to discuss the Jastragedy. The nub and gist is that we have taken a sacred vow (you make the vow and then are given a Chinese burn by the person next to you). Anyway, the sacred vow that we will never break is, “We, the ace gang, will never let any boy come between us and the ace gang. We are one for one and one for all, once and for all.” Or whatever it is that the Three Musketeers say.

  I have to say in principle I agree, but in practice I crossed my fingers whilst I made the vow because if I can snaffle Masimo, I’m afraid it is one for one.

  english

  I think everyone must have crossed their fingers, because our vow of sisterhood lasted about ten minutes. We’d just settled down for an hour of complete misery and bollocks (Blithering Heights) when two window cleaners bobbed up at the windows. They were not what you would call very fit-looking boys, but they were boys. And none of us had seen a boy for…er…about an hour and a half, if you don’t count Elvis Attwood, which we don’t.

  The whole class had a massive dither attack; some girls dived under their desks and started applying lip gloss and some started flicking their hair around like loons.

  Miss Wilson said, “Now, girls, settle down, it’s just a couple of window cleaners. You are all acting as if you have never seen a member—”

  She was interrupted there by Rosie saying “Ooer.”

  Miss Wilson went fantastically beetroot but carried on, “as if you have never seen a…a…person of the male…gender. Please show a bit of grown-up behavior and don’t let yourselves down.” Then she started tripping lightly in the valley of the prehistoric. “When I was a young lady, I—”

  Jools said, “Did you meet the Swan of Avon, Miss?”

  Miss Wilson rambled on, “No Julia, I did not meet the Swan of…er, it’s not the Swan, it is the Bard of Avon.”

  Jools went on, “Oh so you knew him quite well then, if you knew his real name.”

  By this time most of the class were pressing themselves up against the windows and Miss Wilson had to go for reinforcements. Hawkeye soon saw the lads off into a different part of the school.

  Boo. Still, at least it had passed a pleasant half an hour, and we hadn’t been forced to wander round blasted heaths and so on.

  lunchtime

  Practically the whole school has been tracking the window cleaners like they are pop stars, chasing them about and screaming, it’s mad.

  Wet Lindsay and her henchwomen no sooner hand out reprimands and beatings (not really, but they would obviously like to) than another group of girls creeps up.

  Even the little first formers were prancing about, singing stupid songs like “Window cleaners, window cleaners, give us a wave, give us a wave.”

  In the end Captain Mad (Elvis Attwood) set up a sort of armed guard to keep us at bay. Although, to be frank, I don’t think a garden hoe is going to frighten some of the Upper Fifth if they decided to have a go. Melanie Griffith could just send her nunga-nungas on a lone expedition and he would be on his back.

  Even Jas is cheered up, and she is determined to come to the gig to show Tom how much she is ignoring him. As I left her at her gate, she said, “You have got to help me ignore him and make him jealous and so on.”

  “Jas, I am not going to snog you for anything.”

  1:00 a.m.

  I have got everything ready for tomorrow night, even though I want to play it cool and just sort of remind Masimo who I am. I am not going to be throwing myself at him or anything. I am going to play the callous sophisticate.

  The callous sophisticate with really groovy false eyelashes, or my boy entrancers, as I call them.

  saturday april 23rd

  It’s like a hobbit house. Vati has got himself and Uncle Eddie big false ears. You can imagine how attractive Uncle Eddie looks in his. Also I didn’t know there was a gay elf in The Hobbit but there is, and it is my dad. He is leaping around in his green tights going, “Oooohhh hello, I am Legalet!!”

  Libby and Gordy have gone round to Grandad’s for the night. God help them one and all, the mad meet the very very mad.

  The most appalling thing has happened. The woman in the next-door madhouse to Grandad thinks she is his girlfriend and keeps knitting things for him.

  Double sadly, she can’t knit. As a lovely gift, she knitted him a jumper. It was only after ten minutes of him nearly suffocating that we discovered that she hadn’t knitted a neck hole.

  11:30 a.m.

  I have got my bedroom to myself as makeup headquarters. Even Angus is out. He is defending his love for Naomi against her new suitor, Manky. If Mr. Across the Road thought that Angus was Naomi’s bit of rough he should see Manky, who is definitely her bit of rougher. Manky and Angus have already had a duel at dawn—Angus came home with a bit of Manky’s tail as a victory souvenir. I may frame it.

  4:00 p.m.

  Now then, I’ve written a list of hit points for my plan.

  1. Steam, cleanse and tone. Apply primer coat of pale ivory base coat, paying special attention to any lurker incidents.

  2. Coat eyelashes with talcum powder for maximum buildup of mascara. (This is a top model tip—along with putting a white spot in the middle of your lips to make them look bigger—actually, I won’t be doing this bit. I don’t want any suggestion of Koko the Clown to mar my evening of LUUUUURVE.)

  3. Dust all over face with powder to avoid the shiny twit look.

  OK, I’ve done all that, now to point four.

  4. Inspect for any orangutan outbreak.

  As I was trying to see the back of my legs in my hand mirror, Legalet came prancing in. “Hello, I’m Legalet and…bloody hell, Georgia, what in the name of your grandad’s outsize cycling shorts have you done with yourself—you look like a ghost.”

  I leapt into my wardrobe and said from in there, “DAD, how DARE you look at me, I’ve only got my foundation coat on. And this is my bedroom. I don’t come snooping around in your room—in fact I have the good manners to ignore you.”

  As he went out, Legalet said, “Oh the joy of fatherhood, it never fades…by the way, what time do you want me to pick you up?”

  What?????? He was dressed as an elf. An elf picking me up in a Robinmobile. Nooooooooo.

  I said, “Hahahhhahah, er, don’t you remember? Jas’s dad is picking us up.”

  Fortunately he is too excited to question me closely about Jas’s dad, who is in fact in Birmingham tonight.

  7:00 p.m.

  I don’t ever remember being this jelloid before, not even when I had Terminal Horn syndrome for the Sex God. I can hardly move my eyelids for mascara and false eyelashes. I wonder if they look natural? I didn’t get the ones with the false diamonds in them. I just got the thick long ones.

  Oh I can’t take them off now, it took me about a million years to put the glue on and stick them on. It is not as easy as it sounds on the packet. What I go through for luuuurve.

  stiff dylans gig

  8:15 p.m.

  We all got massive Giggling Gertie syndrome on the way to the gig. Even Jas joined in with the jollity; she is determined to let Tom know that she has a life of her own. I didn’t point out the obvious fact that she hasn’t, because I am full of sympatheti-cositisnosity. Which is not an easy thing to say.

  Anyway, she is letting Tom know that he is not the only codpiece in the sea. Going along High Street clattering along on our high heels, we sang “The girls are back in town, the girls are back in town.” We were doing the linking up thing. We all link arms and are not allowed to break the chain for any reason. It makes getting round corners or crossing roads practically impossible. God help any poor person coming the other way; they could be dragged along with us for hours. Strangely, people seemed to cross to the other side of the road when they saw us coming.

  We were allowed to break armsies at the entrance to the Phoenix. I was soooo excited, and sort of frightened too. Ellen, Mabs, Rosie and Jas hadn
’t even seen Masimo yet.

  In the tarting-up area (loos) we reapplied lip gloss for maximum snoggosity.

  Rosie said, “What is your cunning plan, Georgia? Full frontal or glaciosity with just a hint of promise?”

  I said, “Deffo glaciosity with a hint of p.”

  “Is that why you are wearing furry eyelashes?”

  I gave her my special cross-eyed Klingon look. “These, Rosie, are not false eyelashes. They are boy entrancers. They hint at a sophisticosity beyond my years.”

  The ace gang went out into the club and I had one last check in the mirror. I practiced my “sticky eye” technique. God, I was good—I practically got off with myself.

  Out in the club it was really kicking, quite dark and groovy. In fact when I first came out of the tarting-up area, I couldn’t see anything for a minute until my peepers got used to the lack of light. I don’t think the boy entrancers help.

  The ace gang had formed a posse around Jas at a table near the front. Tom, the official ostracized leper, was at the bar with a couple of mates. I could see no one else of any interest apart from loads of lardy blokes and some girls from our school.

  9:35 p.m.

  My nerves are shot to pieces. I can’t stand the tension of this—I have to go to the piddly diddly department every five minutes. Jas was making me worse; she was Ditherqueen and a half. Going on and on about Tom.

  “Is Tom looking at me? Don’t look.”

  “Jas, I can’t see if I don’t look. But don’t worry; I will be very casual. I will startle you with my casualosity. I will sip your drink and look through the bottom of the glass and see if he is looking.”

  I lifted up the glass and looked.

  “He’s not looking at the moment—oh yes, hang on, hang on…yes, he’s looking now.”

  Jas said, “How does he look, does he look upset?”

  “Er. Hang on, there is a bit of ice cube in the way, I’ll just eat it…er, he’s talking to Matt, oh oh now he’s looking over here.”

  Jas said, “How is he looking—is it just like looking looking, or is it like, you know, looking like he’s made a big mistake wanting to go and snog sheep instead of staying with me?”

  I said, “Jas, it’s a bit difficult to tell looking through the bottom of a glass, also I am getting neck spasm. Have I smeared my lip gloss?”

  I am truly a bloody great pal.

  10:00 p.m.

  I hadn’t even seen Masimo yet. I can hardly remember what he looks like; maybe I had imagined he was groovy. I hadn’t actually stood right next to him. Perhaps he was a bit of shortarse, or maybe he had an irritating laugh. Or he had grown a goatee. Or he liked elfs…or…

  Then the DJ said, “And now it’s time for The…Stiff Dylans!!!”

  And they came onstage. Everyone except Masimo. Dom said into his mike above the whooping and clapping, “Cheers, thanks a lot, we’re back! And tonight we would like you to go wild for our new lead singer. He’s not entirely an English person but someone with a touch of Latin blood—calm down, girls…I give you…Masimo. Ciao, Masimo.”

  And Masimo came onstage. Oh crumbly knees extraordinaire. He is, as I may have mentioned before, the Cosmic Horn personified. The girls at the front were going bananas jumping up and down. (Which is not something I would try, even with my extra-firm nunga-nunga holders.)

  I said to Jools, “How very little pridosity they have got.”

  Jools said, “I know. The next thing you know they’ll be creeping around backstage getting up on boxes and stalking him.”

  I said kindly, “Quiet now, Jools. I am concentrating.”

  The hard thing to do is to be noticed but not to be noticed being noticed, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

  He was so gorgey and a fantasadosy singer and soooooo sexy. When he was singing you felt like he was really looking at you; he would have had a hard time, though, because I was practically under the table—I didn’t want to reveal myself too soon…ooer.

  The joint was really rocking and we had to dance. It was like being at the sheepdog trials and dancing, because Jas was so paranoid about Tom getting to her we had to circle round her dancing. When any one of us wanted to go to the piddly diddly department, we all had to shuffle and dance off together and then shuffle and dance back to our place.

  I was exhausted and managed to have a bit of a breather by the stairs and it was there that Tom got me.

  “Georgia, why were you looking at me through a glass for ages?”

  “I…er…well…”

  “Did Jas tell you to, does she want to, you know, sort of make up? I mean, it’s only six months and it’s such a great opportunity. Can’t you make her see?”

  “Tom, I have to tell you this, I am Jas’s friend and we are officially ignorezing you, you are a mirage to me, I can’t even see you actually.”

  He said, “And nothing would make you help me.”

  “Non, and also we have taken an oath involving torture.”

  He just looked at me.

  “What if I could help you really casually bump into Masimo?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I met him the other night at snooker.”

  “You met him…he met you…you he…”

  “Yes. And he will come and say hello to me in the break and I could be casually talking to you.”

  I said with all the dignosity I could, given that my skirt was so tight, “And you think that I would betray my bestest pal Jas just for some bloke I hardly know? When I have taken a solemn vow with Chinese burns and everything?”

  Tom looked at me. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you are quite literally criminally insane.”

  11:00 p.m.

  In the loos, Jas was sitting on the sink going on and on about her heartbreakosity. “He’s a cad and a…user. He went out with me to fill in time until he could go snog sheep.”

  Rosie, Ellen, Jools and Mabs were going “Yeah, you’re so right. Creep.”

  And “Yeah, never have anything to do with him again.”

  Then they lost interest. Who wouldn’t? And they all went back in to do mad dancing. It was just Jas and me. My little upset pally and me.

  And only two minutes until the band had a break.

  Jas was raving on and fiddling around with her fringe; I resisted slapping her hand because of her condition. Tempting, though.

  She said, “I just can’t believe him, all those weekends trailing badgers and mushroom hunting, I can’t believe they just meant nothing to him. It’s as if we never found that skylarks’ nest…”

  “Jas.”

  “Or that vole nest in the banks of the river…”

  “Jas.”

  “I may as well never have learned how to make a fire without matches.”

  I got hold of her.

  “Jas, I think you should speak to him.”

  “What??”

  “I think you should, you know, talk it over with him.”

  She stood in front of me really red-faced. Bit scary actually.

  “Georgia, are you saying that after all this, after all I have been through, I should TALK it over with him?”

  I said, “Er…yes.”

  And she said, “Oh, OK then.”

  She is unbelievably weedy, but I didn’t say so because I wanted to check my boy entrancers before I went outside.

  I said, “I’ll go and talk to Tom first so that you don’t lose your pridosity. I’ll go and tell him that you might think about letting him explain himself. Then I’ll come back to you and you can look like you are shaking your head and so on and I am trying to persuade you. Then eventually I will tell him that he has four minutes and thirty seconds of your time. And I’ll stand behind you with a watch.”

  11:07 p.m.

  The band had left the stage by the time I went over to Tom. I said to him, “Mission accomplished. She will talk to you, but I have to go over and try to persuade her, but you will know that we are acting.”

  Tom gave me a hug. As h
e was hugging me (and I have to say that even though I blame him for being the brother of a Sex God who left me for wombats, I do like him)—anyway, as he was hugging me, Masimo came from the dressing room. As he walked through the crowd it sort of parted before him. There was an awful lot of flicking of hair and smiling going on. And that was just the boys!!! No really, it was the girls, especially that trollopy Sharon Davies; she’s had blond streaks put in her hair. I don’t think they look very natural. Not like my boy entrancers. I put an extra slurp of glue on them when I was in the loo just now so there is no chance of them coming off. I was just watching Masimo. Not directly. I was looking over Tom’s shoulder. As I was being Miss Cool I saw Wet Lindsay walk in with her sad mates. She had a ludicrously short skirt on. If I had legs as thin as hers, I would wear big inflatable trousers so that I didn’t startle anyone. But she is too selfish to bother.

  Ohmygiddygod Masimo was coming our way. Tom winked at me. Then he called over to Masimo, “Hey Masimo, ciao.”

  Masimo heard him and smiled and came over. Oh please please don’t let me go to the piddly diddly department in the middle of the dance floor. When he reached us I could feel the heat of him being near me. Good grief and jelloid knickers akimbo. He said, “Hey Tom, ciao—and it’s you. Let me see…the lovely Ginger.”

  I went, “Hahahahahahahahahahaha” until Tom hit me on the back.

  Tom said, “No, this is Georgia.”

  I said, even though I knew I should shut up—but you know when you should shut up but you go on and on—well I had that, “Ah well, you see, Libby thinks I am half cat, half sister, and she…er…calls me Ginger sometimes.”

  Tom went on trying to rescue me. “Georgia went out with Robbie for a bit before he went to Whakatane.”

  Masimo looked me right in the eyes. “Robbie is, how you say in English, not in his right brains to leave you behind.” And he smiled again. Phwoar. I had to look down because I couldn’t trust myself not to leap on him. I looked down and then I was intending to look up and do that looking up and looking away thing, and also possibly a bit of flicky hair. Unfortunately when I tried to look up again, I couldn’t because my boy entrancers had stuck to my bottom lashes. So my eyes stayed shut. They were glued together. I kept trying to open my eyes but I couldn’t. In sheer desperadoes I said, “Oh I love this one.” And started wobbling my head around to the music.