Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers: More Mad, Marvy Confessions of Georgia Nicolson

by Louise Rennison

  I went red, thank God it was dark…. I took abig gulp from the drink and practically choked myself, but I managed to say, “Yes, I mean, sí. I am indeed having a tired from dancing, yes indeedy.”

  He said, “It is long since I have seen you. I am glad you came. I would like, if you would like, to have your telephone number.”

  Oh now, what was the right response to that? Glaciosity requires that I say something like, “Maybe some other time.”

  But he is a Luuurve God. He is bending over me, his gorgey lips are only inches away from mine.

  Anyway, I was saved the trouble of doing anything because Dom came over.

  “Hi, Georgia, long time no dig, how are you?”

  Before I could say anything he went on to Masimo.

  “Listen, mate, sorry to drag you away, but some bloke wants to talk to us about a tour in the North. Can you come over?”

  Masimo looked at me with those amazing amber eyes. “I will see you later.”

  And he touched my shoulder and squeezed it very gently.

  Oh no, he had said it. He had said the famous “See you later.”

  Donner and bloody Blitzen. Absobloodylutely typico.

  I have got such bad snog withdrawal!!!

  Merde and merdy merde merde merde. And a half.

  I hobbled over to the groovathon and bobbed around trying to talk to Rosie as Sven flung her about like a deflated balloon.

  Pant pant, groove groove.

  “He’s asked me for my phone number!”

  Rosie yelled, “Result! Or resultio, as we must say!”

  I looked across and I could see the Stiff Dylans talking to some bloke at a table. Masimo leaned back in his chair and balanced on one leg. The chair leg, I mean, you fools!! Not his leg. He looked across at me and just looked and locked eyes with me. He was doing sticky eyes with me. It was incredibilosy. However, it began to feel like a staring competition because the mascara on my eyes was vair heavy. Eventually he looked away because someone handed him a drink, so I could blink.

  11:30 p.m.

  Band back on.

  I am sooo excited. I said to Jas, “Do you think I should accidentally hang around as he comes offstage at the next break?”

  Jas looked like she was thinking. Oh dear.

  I can’t rely on her opinion. I must consult with the gang. I rounded them up eventually for a gang meeting in the tarts’ wardrobe. I was going to ask the Hornmeister but he was slow dancing with Rachel and she had her head on his shoulder. He was stroking her hair but as I passed he looked, I don’t know, not like Dave the Laugh. So I thought I wouldn’t ask about Masimo.

  When Mabs emerged from her snogathon it turned out to be one of the trainee tossers she was snogging.

  I said, “Mabs, you have vair little pridenosity, that is one of Tosser Thompson’s mates.”

  Mabs was a bit surly and covered in her own lippy. She looked like she had been attacked by a ferret. She said, “Well, I’m only practicing on him.”

  Fair enough.

  It was a moment or two before I realized that Sven was in the loos with us.

  Rosie managed to persuade him to wait outside. I don’t like to think what she promised him as a reward, but she did mention herrings….

  I said, “Masimo wanted my phone number and I was just about to give it to him.”

  Rosie said, “Oo-er, missus.”

  But I just looked at her and went on.

  “I was just about to give him my number, when Dom called him away. So now the thing is, should I hang around at the end of the set and give it to him?”

  Rosie was just about to say oo-er again until I kicked her.

  Ellen said, “Well, if, you know…if he asked you, and well, he asked you…that means, doesn’t it, that he, you know, wants it.”

  We all looked at Ellen.

  I said, “Anyway, what do you think I should do?”

  Jas said, “I would hang around. I mean, it’s ridiculous playing silly games, isn’t it?”

  Rosie said, “Yes, I think cut to the action, go up and give him the phone number and then leave.”

  Hmmmm. Yes, that sounded good. Everyone else was nodding. And when all of the ace gang nod, you know that, er, you know that a nod is as good as a wink to a blind badger.

  We did the Klingon salute and makeup duties and then went out of the loos together. The others careered back onto the dance floor, apart from Mabs, because the trainee tosser was hanging around outside the door. I lurked at the back of the club near the tarts’ wardrobe for a moment to sit down on the stairs. My tootsies were soooooo sore. I tried to ease my feet in my shoes but they wouldn’t move. I must save my tootsies for a last walk across to give Masimo my telephone number.

  12:30 a.m.

  Outside the cloakroom getting our coats out. The band must be going to come out soon. I put my coat on slowly. Dave the Laugh was with Rachel and she was linking up with him.

  He said, “S’later, Georgia.”

  And Rachel gave me a big hug good-bye.

  “Great to see you, Gee.”

  After they had gone, I said to Jas: “Is it? Why? Why is she hugging me? We don’t do hugging, do we? And we are very nearly mates.”

  Jas said, “I think it’s nice that she is so friendly.”

  I didn’t. It was weird. I went on. “Is she on the turn? Or perhaps there is a touch of the Froggy in her family? I must warn Dave.”

  I was so distracted by Rachel that at first I didn’t sense the Luuurve presence. He was just coming out of the dressing room, putting his jacket on. How come even putting his jacket on was sexy?

  I had the particular and Cosmic Horn and a heavy dose of red bottomosity.

  He turned round to say something to one of the others and Wet Lindsay appeared like the Bride of Dracula. She just appeared from nowhere. She was playing with her hair and she trailed her hand across Masimo’s arm. He looked round and saw her and smiled. She kissed his cheek and said something in his ear. He said something back and then she whispered something else. He looked at her and sort of shrugged his shoulders. She smiled and then linked arms with him and they went off together. Oh God.

  1:00 a.m.

  And we had to walk all the way home because we had done the usual “Jas’s dad is picking us up” to my dad and “Georgia’s dad is picking us up” to Jas’s. In a fit of desperation I thought about phoning Vati and telling him we were stuck, but then I would have to talk to him, and I didn’t want to talk ever again.

  1:30 a.m.

  I managed to sneak in, actually I didn’t really need to sneak because Dad was snoring so loudly in his bedroom. And Gordy was snoring in the lavatory. And oh good, Libby was snoring in my bed.

  2:30 a.m.

  Lying quite literally in my bed of pain. I have tried to get my shoes off but I am so tired and upset I can’t be bothered to struggle with them. So I’ve left them on and put my jimmyjams on over them. My feet hurt like billio but not as much as my heart.

  2:35 a.m.

  What is it with boys and Wet Lindsay?

  I dither about for hours thinking “Shall I have glaciosity or shall I have boldnosity?” “What botty huggers shall I wear? Is the orangutan gene making a surprise appearance?” and so on, for hours and hours, and she just goes up to him and says “Come with me” and off he goes.

  Unbelievable.

  2:40 a.m.

  I am not going to give up this time, though I have had my heart burnt in the oven too many times.

  I am going to think of a cunning plan.

  2:45 a.m.

  Oh brilliant, Angus and Gordy are playing the mouse game with my shoe-feet.

  Owwwwwwwww.

  2:46 a.m.

  Libby woke up from her snoring extraganza and sat up with her arms crossed.

  She said, “Bad, Georgia. Shhhhhhh!”

  I tried to cuddle her but she got the hump and stomped off with Gordy under one arm to go to her own bed.

  Rejected by my sister as well.
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  And she didn’t even leave Sandra behind.

  sunday june 5th

  10:00 a.m.

  I woke up and I saw my shoe-feet looking at me from the bottom of the bed.

  Then I felt the pain…but I am going to have to bear it and take them off.

  10:15 a.m.

  Oh please. My shoes are embedded in my feet. My skin has been cut by the straps and then in the night everything has all swollen up. You can’t even see the straps because the flesh has covered them up. Oh brilliant, now I will have to have my feet off.

  10:30 a.m.

  Worse than that, I am going to have to ask Mum for help because I can’t walk. I will never never laugh at Slim’s feet again, because I have got them.

  11:00 a.m.

  Mum bustled into my room. When I heard her I put my shoe-feet under the blankets. She said, “Come on and have some breakfast. Dad’s taken Libbs round to Josh’s, so it’s just you and me. We can do something nice if you like.”

  I said, “It will have to be something that doesn’t involve walking about.”

  She said, “Don’t tell me you are tired. Honestly, I had so much energy at your age, I’d go to parties and then play tennis the next day.”

  I said, “Well, I would like to play tennis, believe me, but Parky Elvis would never let me play in high heels—it would ruin his courts.”

  Mum said, “What are you talking about?”

  I had to tell her about the shoes. Then I showed her my feet. She went ballisticisimus.

  “You STUPID stupid girl. Honestly, you have done some stupid stupid things in your time, but this takes the biscuit of stupidity. How could you do this to yourself? I told you about those shoes! Look at your lovely feet ruined!!!”

  And so on for about four centuries.

  Mum had a go at getting them off herself, but I couldn’t bear the pain and in the end she said, “I’m going to have to phone for the doctor. On a Sunday.”

  Oh nooooo. I am so humiliated.

  midday

  I heard Mum phoning the doctor. She said, “I am so sorry to disturb you, Doctor, but it’s Georgia.”

  There was a pause.

  “No, no, the elbows are, you know, quite stable, it’s…well, she has got her shoes embedded in her feet.”

  1:00 p.m.

  I saw Dr. Clooney’s car arrive in the driveway and he got out. I hobbled back into bed, ouch ouch and double ouch.

  Thank goodness Vati was out.

  I heard giggling from downstairs.

  1:25 p.m.

  Oh yes, that’s right, Mutti, just chat and flirt with Dr. Clooney whilst I lay up here with my dancing days over.

  Honestly.

  Eventually Mum and Dr. Clooney came up. My Mum had changed into her short black dress and done her hair and makeup. Vair vair sad.

  Dr. Clooney gave me his crinkly smile.

  “Well, well, this is a first for me.”

  He is nice though, very reassuring and funny. He didn’t ramble on at me. He just looked at my feet and pulled a bit and I went “Owwwwww.”

  Then he said, “Hmmm. I’m going to have to give you a local anesthetic and cut them off.”

  And I said, “Oh, doctor, can’t you save them?”

  And he started saying that he meant the shoes, not my feet, and I said, “I know, can’t you save them?”

  Mum gave me her worst look, but Dr. Clooney thought it was vair amusant.

  2:00 p.m.

  This is quite nice, actually, in a painful way. Dr. Clooney cut off the straps and pulled the bits out with tweezers. He even had to give me some stitches in the deep cuts in my feet. It hurt A LOT but I was brave as a bee on army maneuvers. They are all bandaged up. Mum is bringing me snacks.

  She sat down on my bed and I let her. I don’t know why. I am probably weak.

  She said, “So, Stumpy, did you have a nice time last night at least?”

  I blurted out, “Well, it was megafab at first because Masimo asked me for my phone number, but then at the end Wet Lindsay made him go home with her.”

  Mum said, “I used to know a girl like Wet Lindsay. She got married to a boy I really liked.”

  I said, “Oh thanks, Mum, you are really cheering me up.”

  And she said, “Well, every cloud has a silver lining, because she is really really unhappily married. So all is well that ends well.”

  Sometimes my mum, and I don’t want to get carried away by this, but sometimes she can be almost like a real person.

  4:00 p.m.

  It’s quite cozy just me and Mum together. I was asking her stuff about how to make any twit fall in love with you (without actually mentioning that I had read her book, otherwise she would know that I had been rifling through her drawers and unreasonably lose her rag).

  As we slurped our fifth hot choccy, Mum had a quick touch of wisdomosity.

  She said, “I think you should just relax and be yourself. What is the point of being a callous sophisticate or tricking a boy into liking you? He’s bound to find out eventually. It’s the only real advice I can give you. Be your own natural self.”

  I said, “Like when you put that black dress on and loads of makeup when Dr. Clooney came round?”

  She stood up.

  “Well, be yourself within reason. At least get the right size shoes next time.”

  We have decided not to bother Vati with the shoe-feet incident and settled for “girl trouble” until Wednesday, when I should be able to walk again.

  I said, “You mean I get time off from Stalag 14 for good behavior? Oh, thank you thank you, Mutti, you know how much I love you.”

  I have agreed to be very nice to Vati and Libby and Mutti for the next couple of days in recognition of Mum’s act of charity.

  midnight

  I wonder what Masimo did when they left the gig?

  I wonder what number they got up to?

  Erlack. Shut up, mind, shutup.

  monday june 6th

  8:30 a.m.

  Well, I may get pretend-ill a lot. Dad brought me a cup of tea and Mum phoned Jas and told her I’d be off-school with a tummy bug for a couple of days. Hmmm, snuggle, snuggle. Ouch, ouch, ouchy ouch.

  10:00 a.m.

  This is the life(ish). I am lolling in bed and everyone is out.

  I think I will just hobble downstairs for a snack.

  10:30 a.m.

  I haven’t been in the house on my own on a weekday for ages. It is an unknown world of peace and quiet and…cats. So this is what happens when we, the baldy folk, are out—the house turns into Kittykat Heaven.

  Naomi is stretched out comfortably on the front-room sofa. I hope she has enough cushions. She sleepily opened one eye when I put my head round the door, but seeing I had no snacks, she went back to sleep. Make yourself at home, Ms. Minx.

  Gordy is snoozing on the telephone table, probably expecting an urgent call. And Angus seems to be covered in jam and lolling about on Mum’s silk blouse that she left on the ironing board. She will go ballisticisimus.

  I would move them but I can’t be expected to because of my condition.

  10:40 a.m.

  I opened the fridge for snacksies and took out the butter. It has a small paw mark in it. Surely the furry maniacs haven’t learned how to open the fridge door? Freaky-deaky. They’ll be dressing up in our clothes soon and driving the clown car off for a cat picnic.

  Good.

  12:00 p.m.

  Fed up now. I wonder what the ace gang are doing? I bet they’re talking about the gig. I bet they’re talking about me and Masimo. They had better not say anything bad.

  What is there to say that is bad?

  I hope they are keeping up the staring campaign against Wet Lindsay. I am glad I am not in today because she can’t show off in front of me.

  2:00 p.m.

  I have shared two boyfriends with her.

  2:10 p.m.

  But Robbie, er, I mean the guitar plucker only went out with her because she was so upset when h
e tried to dump her. And she said she was engaged to him when she wasn’t. I think she must be a bit unhinged.

  She should be.

  Actually, the guitar plucker acted very nicely about her and me. What I mean is, he dumped her. If anyone is asking for a good dumping, it is her. If he hadn’t gone to Kiwi-a-gogo land, all of this wouldn’t have happened.

  I wonder what would have happened.

  3:00 p.m.

  I got out his letter and photo, which I had hidden at the back of my drawer. I took them back into bed. What does he say?

  “I think about you a lot.”

  Huh.

  He didn’t think about me enough to not go to the other side of the world.

  He was my first proper love.

  They say you never forget that.

  I looked at the photo. He was vair good-looking, and he was very nice to me.

  Even in front of his mates he would always put his arm round me and didn’t try to hide me away.

  3:45 p.m.

  I thought about all the good times.

  Maybe I should write to him?

  4:00 p.m.

  I think I will write.

  And maybe send a photo.

  I could send him one of when we were in Hamburger-a-gogo. It would remind him of the plans we had to go there with the band.

  Ha.

  I won’t send him the one of me riding the bucking bronco stool.

  4:10 p.m.

  Nor with that very very old bloke in the Elvis outfit.

  5:00 p.m.

  Or one of the ones me and Jas took in private with the bison horns.

  No one must ever see those. No one. Not another living soul.

  I must remind Jas.

  I’ll do it now.

  5:15 p.m.

  Phoned Jas.

  “Jas, it’s me.”

  “Hellooooo, how are your feet?”

  “Bandaged up. Listen, you must never show anyone our bison horn pictures.”

  “Oh blimey. Hahahahaha, I’d forgotten about them. What a hoot and a half that was.”

  “Yes, I know that we thought it was very amusant at the time, Jas, but pictures of us in the nuddy-pants wearing just bison horns might, well, you know…if they fell into the wrong hands.”

  She was chewing and thinking.

  “Oh, yeah, I see what you mean. Well, yes, I will only show them to Tom when he gets back. Do you know how many minutes it is until he is back? It’s two hundred thousand—”