Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 09 (15 page)

Rom and Jul
read-through and audition in the main hall
2:00 p.m.

Miss Wilson is already hysterical.

I said to Rosie, “Certain people are not cut out to be teachers of the young.”

Rosie said, “Do you mean people with out-of-control bobs?”

And I said, “Yes.”

She has brought it on herself. You would have thought that after the fiasco of the orange juggling in
MacUseless
she would have learned not to be innovative. But you just can't tell some people.

This time she has suggested we might try puppetry and mime in our production.

That immediately caused an outbreak of us all pretending to be Thunderbirds puppets.

Oh we laughed.

Then when we had almost stopped and got ourselves under control she said that in Ye Olde Days the audience was not very quiet and would shout rude jokes and stuff out at the actors.

Rosie said, “Like Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thy PANTS, Romeo?”

And that once more introduced the old pants theme into everything that we did.

Miss Wilson only has herself to blame.

ten minutes later

Jas was being annoyingly Jasish. She has learned all the lines for Juliet for the first two acts. How incomprehensibly botty kissing is that? She has done it because she genuinely thinks that she is Juliet.

And that Tom is Romeo.

As I said to her, “We'd better say taa ta, then, Jas, because you die at thirteen. Which was two years ago.”

She just stropped off to be with the others who are taking the whole thing seriously.

ten minutes later

I was being the prologue person and I was giving it my all at the front (oo-er).

I said:

“Two households both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona (where we lay our scene)

From ancient grudge break to”—(and I couldn't resist the comedy opportunity)—

“From ancient grudge break to new nudity, Where civil pants makes civil pants unclean.”

Oh, we laughed. I thought that Rosie was going to have a spazattack.

Miss Wilson was yelling, “Girls, girls, stop this silliness. Saying pants all the time is not funny.”

It is, though.

twenty-five minutes later

Anyway, the horrific outcome is that Mizz Bum-oley Kisser Jas is in fact Juliet. This is going to be unbearable for the next few weeks. She is soooo full of herself. Discussing stuff with Miss Wilson, she actually said, “Yes, perhaps a puppet dog would add to the whole Elizabethan feel of the production. It is very likely that Juliet would have had a little dog as a companion.”

Perhaps a swift rotten tomato in the gob might add to the whole Elizabethan feel.

Rosie has been cast as the nurse, which I think is an act of theatrical suicide.

Ellen is Tybalt, and I am Mercutio, hurray!!!

Miss Wilson had to spoil things by saying, “I am casting you, Georgia, because although you have been silly this afternoon, I know you are not going to let me or the team down.”

Jas went, “Humph.”

She is at No. 3 on the having the hump scale (head tossing and fringe fiddling) and we haven't
even done the first read-through yet.

Although I don't know why we are bothering rehearsing the final scenes, because with Ellen dithering around with a sword as Tybalt it is quite likely that none of us will survive longer than act two.

in the loos
4:00 p.m.

I've sent Jools on a little scouting mission to see if there are any signs of an Italian Luuurve God anywhere outside the school gates. My hands are trembling a LOT and I've nearly blinded myself twice with my mascara brush. Fortunately we haven't had to prance around like ninnies doing sport today, so my hair has retained its bouceability factor.

ten minutes later

Jools came into the loos.

“Oh my giddygod, Gee, he's here. He's on his scooter at the gates. And he's sort of brown, and well, I mean, I like Rollo but I mean, phwoar, is all I can say!!! Times ten.”

My bottom nearly fell out of my panties.

I sat on the edge of the sink.

Blimey. My heart was racing.

Thank God the prefects were having a late meeting about discipline, because I know Wet Lindsay is just waiting to get me for something. She has a plan for me and I will not be liking it. But at least she is out of the way for now.

All of the ace gang came into the loos. I said to them, “Right, I am ready. I want you all to metaphorically hold my hand across the playground so that I do not fall over.”

Jools said, “I haven't done metaphorical hand holding, how does that go?”

I said, “You all walk across the playground and we chat and laugh like it is normal to be meeting a Luuurve God, but whilst you are chatting and so on you are also mentally holding my pandie so that I do not fall over.”

Jas, who has not come down to earth since she became Jul, was still going on like Mrs. Owl the dim. “When you say mentally holding your hand, do you mean we hold your hand and go mental?”

“Jas, Jas, please do not make me mess up my hair by beating you to a pulp. You know very well what I mean, just do it.”

We laughed and chatted all the way step by step. I have absolutely no idea what anyone said, least of all me. I had never felt so nervous in my life. I took a quick look up from my casual laughing and saw him sitting on the seat of his scooter, with his long legs crossed. My heart skipped a beat, he was quite literally gorgey porgey. How could he like me? It seemed like being in a film.

When he saw me he got up and took off his gloves. He was wearing a pale blue leather coat and his hair had grown. And he looked so—so—Pizza-a-gogish!

Then he did a wave and shouted, “Ay, Georgia,
ciao, cara, ciao
!” and started walking toward me and the gang.

He said to them, “
Ciao, signorinas
, and here is the how you say, the very lovely,
bellissima
Miss Georgia.”

And he came right up close to me and lifted me off my feet and kissed me properly and quite hard on the mouth. No warmsy upsies. Just a proper snog. And he didn't even make it a short one. I was still off my feet and I hadn't closed my eyes because I was so surprised and so I had gone slightly cross-eyed. His mouth felt lovely but not
very familiar to me. Then he put me down and he kissed me quickly and said, “Oh, I have waited long for this. Come on, miss.”

And he took my hand and led me off to the scooter. I turned back to the ace gang and they all went, “Oooohhhhhhhhhhhh get you!” in a high-pitched camp tone.

one hour later

We drove off through the streets on his scooter. It felt soooo full of glamorosity. He accelerated up the High Street quite fast. We stopped at the lights and he put down the bike stand and got off his seat, leaving the engine running. We were surrounded by cars and there were people passing by. I wondered what he was doing, should I get off? Were we parking at the lights and going for a cup of coffee? Or did he think I should have a go at driving? Even though I can't even ride a bicycle properly. Then he took off his helmet and he said, “I must snog you more.” Blimey. And he did. He bent down and pushed up my goggles and then kissed me on the mouth. How erm…interesting. It was nice but I couldn't really concentrate because everyone was looking at us. I could see some kid in
the back of a car picking his nose. People were honking their horns and some lads were going, “Get in there, my son!!!”

Masimo didn't seem to notice. He even put the tip of his tongue in my mouth, which made me go a bit jelloid. Then he said loudly, “Ah, that is better, now I can continue. Thank you,” and he bowed to the people in cars and to passersby.

He leapt back into his seat, shoved his helmet on (without fastening the strap…I could imagine what Jas would have said about that!), kicked away the bike support and revved off.

We went to the woods and it was a lovely, soft, warm just beginning to be autumn evening. As we went into the trees we found a little babbling brook. It was quite literally making a babbling noise as it went over pebbles and rocks. If I had to talk to Masimo anytime soon that is what I would be doing…babbling.

I felt incredibly nervous. And I couldn't think of anything to say.

That was because we snogged. It was groovy gravey and I felt all melty like I didn't know the difference between his mouth and mine.

fifteen minutes later

I am still feeling incredibly nervous and I couldn't think of anything to say. But that was alright because we were in snog heaven. Having a snogtastic time.

Rosie was right, foreign boys do that varying pressure. Soft and then hard and then soft again.

I wonder what would happen if we both did the same thing at once? For instance if we both did hard together and I didn't do yielding, well, would we end up with really stiff necks? Or if I yielded when he yielded would we both fall over? Or if he went to the right and I went to the right as well and we clashed teeth would we—oh, shut up, brain. Funny, when I snogged normally my brain went on a mini break to Loonland. It didn't usually enter the debating society competition on snogging techniques.

Then Masimo stopped midsnog and just looked me straight in the eyes. He didn't say anything, just looked me in the eyes. I didn't like to blink because it seemed a bit rude but in the end I had to look down because my eyes were beginning to water. When I looked up he was still looking me in the eyes. He is, it has to be said, gorgey porgey
times twelve. He has really long eyelashes and a proper nose. I couldn't even see up his nostrils. And a lovely mouth, with just the suggestion of hairiness around the chinny chin area, like a sort of designer stubble. It wasn't like a little vole lurking around like Dad had on the end of his face. And it wasn't bum fluff like Oscar had. And it wasn't prickly like when Grandad gave me “chin pie” but it was deffo hairy stuff. And also I think, although I didn't like to stare like a staring thing on stare tablets, there was also a bit of chest type hair coming out of the top of his shirt. Blimey. It must be brilliant to be a boy and not have to worry about suppressing the orangutan gene. To be able to just let it grow wild and free. Of course you can take anything too far and some of the lads who play footie in the park are quite literally chimpanzee from the shorts downward. I don't know about the top bit, and I don't want to know about the top bit.

thirty seconds later

Dave the Laugh is a bit hairy as well. Anyway, shut up about Dave the Laugh, he is not in this scenario.

ten seconds later

And Dave the Laugh is not right about Masimo being a lezzie and that is
le
fact.

Then Masimo said, “
Cara
, it is how you say, nippy nungas.”

I looked down at my nungas, please God I hadn't had a sudden outbreak of sticky out nip nips. No sign of them—phew, I was OK. I looked up again and he said, “Brrrr.”

And put his coat round my shoulders.

I said, “Oh, you mean nippy noodles!”

And I laughed, but not in a good way, in a sort of heggy heggy hog hog way. Oh good, I am starting to laugh like my mad little sister.

one minute later

As we walked back toward his scooter the Luuurve God said, “My—erm. Other girlfriend, in Italy, I would like for you to meet her.”

What what!!? Am I in a
ménage à trois
(or
uno menagio de trois
-io)?

two minutes later

It turns out that Masimo is talking about his ex-girlfriend, the one I saw at the Stiff Dylans gig and
the one he went out with before me. Gina. Anyway, she has met an English boy and they are going to get married! And he would like me to meet her when she comes over in a couple of weeks.

Blimey.

I hadn't done ex-girlfriend work before.

And she was getting married.

Wow.

And not like Rosie. Not a Viking marriage in twenty-five years' time. But a real one. One without Horns and probably not wearing a hat made out of mackerel.

My “How to make any twit fall in love with you” book had better have a section on conversational hints with ex-girlfriends.

You know, how to avoid past snogging chat.

I must never say, “So, what number on the snogging scale did you get up to, Gina? With my present boyfriend?”

Get out of my head, past snogging scale!!!

We walked along a bit in silence holding hands. I couldn't think of anything normal to say. Then the Luuurve God said, “I am for going to the Stiff Dylans rehearsal tonight, do you want for to come?”

Inwardly I was thinking, “Er, nothing would make me go and sit through two hours of nodding along and then going home in the equipment van and sitting on Dom's drum and going through it.” Like I did the last time I went to a Stiff Dylans' rehearsal. Dom still stands in front of his drum kit any time I go near.

There are, it has to be said, about a million reasons why nothing will make me go to a Stiff Dylans rehearsal. In fact I would rather be covered in frogspawn. And slightly roasted. But I didn't say that. I said, “Erm, no, I've got homework to do.”

And Masimo smiled and chucked me under the chin and said, “Aaaaah, the little girl has her homework to do.”

He said it in a nice way. But I still felt a bit stupid. So no change there.

I was saved from being more of
le
grand idiot because we got on his scooter and raced through town.

It is vair vair groovy being with him. All the girls look as we go by. And I did a casualosity at all times sort of just lightly holding on to one of his shoulders. Until we went round a corner a bit fast and I had to grab hold of his helmet. When we got
to my place Masimo got off and started giving me a big snog good-bye. I could see Mum hiding behind the curtains in the front room. How vair vair embarrassing. I went a bit red and said to Masimo, “Oh God, my mum is watching us.”