Louise Rennison - ‘… then he ate my boy entrancers.’

Why?

We were just looking at them and then they fell off their bikes again, this time down a ditch. While they were climbing out we set off walking. After a couple of minutes we noticed they were lurking along behind us, pretending not to follow us. Then Dave the Laugh and his mates appeared round the corner. Dave smiled. He has a great smile and he looked as if he was really glad to see me. He has grown his hair a bit since I last saw him and it looked very cool. Oh shutupshutup, voice of the Horn.

He said, “Hello, Sex Kitty and pal.”

Then he saw the boy bloodhounds following us.

“Well, if it isn’t Tosser Thompson and his band of trainee tossers. On your way kids.”

Dave really is quite well built and he was just standing looking at them.

One of the trainee tossers said, “Come on, it’s not worth it.” and they shuffled off, shoving each other and making pretend farting noises.

Wow! It was a bit like Gladiator. But not set in Roman times, and Dave was wearing his school trousers and not a goatskin…More’s the pity. Shutupshutup.

Dave put his arm around me.

“You entice them, you know, with your sparkling personality and magnificent nungas.”

He is soooo annoying. And rude. I tried to have a strop, but he is notoriously difficult to do that with.

As we walked along Jas said, “S’later” and went off home. Dave’s mates all said “S’later” until it was just me and Dave.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m surpressing my red bottom, but he does seem to be getting better-looking all the time. But no, no, he is not the only one and only. He is yesterday’s news. Last week’s snog. Anyway, I said to him, “Aren’t you rushing to meet your GIRLFRIEND? Won’t your GIRLFRIEND be upset if she sees you with me?”

And he started that, “Are you mad?” thing. I managed to stop myself joining in, otherwise it would have developed into tickly bears and then possibly number six. Who knows?

Who knows what goes on in my mind? I will be the last to know. Even when I am totally and without doubtosity in luuurve, absolutely wouldn’t dream of being with anyone else, etc. etc., still the Cosmic Horn rears its ugly head. And there is something about Dave and his special lip-nibbling technique. In fact he is one of the best snoggers I have come across, and I haven’t even snogged Masimo yet. What if Italian boys are useless in the snoggosity department? What if Masimo looks cool but is a nunga-pouncer like Mark Big Gob? Or kisses all wet and sucky like Whelk Boy?

Dave interrupted my brain, thank the Lord.

“So, how are you, chicklet?

I said, “Fab fanks. I’m going to Hamburger-a-gogo land for a clown-car convention.”

Dave looked at me.

“YOU are going to a clown-car convention? Mad as a hen.”

I got quite huffy.

“I am very interested in old cars, as you know, and—”

Dave said, “You would rather snog Spotty Norman than go to a clown-car convention.”

Fair point well made.

I said, “Well, there is another reason…”

Dave raised one of his eyebrows. Which was quite amusing.

We were passing Luigi’s and Dave said, “Come on, let’s do coffee, man.”

And we went in.

Oh, buggering bums buggering bum. Sitting down at one of the tables were Wet Lindsay and Astonishingly Dim Monica. Sacré bloody bleu.

Perhaps they were doing reverse stalking.

Wet Lindsay almost threw up when she saw me with Dave. But she covered it quickly and was all dillydollyish with him. He said “Hi” and she batted her eyelashes and flicked her hair. She must have read that book, How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You. If she tried toffee eyes on Dave, I would have to kill her.

Even though Dave was slightly behind me, she looked straight through me and said to him, “Oh, Dave, it was really groovy at Late and Live, wasn’t it? Mas and me had a great time. Did you and Rachel?”

I hate her double with knobs on.

Dave was coolosity personified. “Yeah, it was cool.”

And then he deliberately pulled a chair out for me at a table not too near the grotesque twins. As I sat down he said loudly enough for them to hear, “Now then, even though you treat me bad, what would you like, Ms Gorgeous?”

He is soooo nice. I really like the way he is…you know…so nice to me.

As Lindsay and ADM went out, Lindsay gave Dave what she probably thinks (wrongly) is her attractive smile. She said, “Bye, Dave, maybe see you when Mas gets back.” Then she stick-insected out of the door, without leaving a slimy trail on the floor, surprisingly.

I said to Dave, “I hate her, I hate her. She called him ‘Mas’. How crap is that?”

Dave looked at me.

“You don’t like her, then?”

As we drank our coffee (me trying to avoid the foam moustache fandango) I wanted to ask Dave if he could find out where Masimo was. But I didn’t think I could just launch in, so I thought I would ask some limbering-up questions first.

“Dave, you know those boys…well, just before you got there, they ran into my legs on their bikes, then they rode off backwards. Then they called us slags.”

Dave said, “Ah, the old running into your legs, riding off backwards and calling you slags thing. Ah hum. Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“They fancy you.”

“Pardon me?”

“Uh-huh. Clear as daylight.”

“But why don’t they say ‘I fancy you’?”

“Because you might reject them in front of their mates.”

“So they think running into my legs on their bikes is better?”

“Yep.”

“And calling us slags?”

“Yep.”

“And they think that after they’ve done that, I will say, ‘Gosh, yes, I would love to go out with you and be your slag. Once my legs heal up.’”

“Yep.”

“But that is mad. Boys are mad.”

Dave looked all wise and did his eyebrow thing again.

We slurped a bit more, then I said, “But, why? How does it work? You know at break at school, when you talk about personal stuff, well…”

Dave said, “Let me interrupt you there, Kittykat. Lads don’t talk about ‘stuff’ at break. They play footie or that other well-known game, ‘Do you know any good dentists?’”

I said, “What?”

“You know: ‘Do you know any good dentists? Because you’re going to need one in a minute when I have to deck you.’”

Blimey.

Dave went on. “Of course, lads have the same feelings, we just communicate in a different way. Sometimes it does get personal though.”

I looked at him. This was better.

“Yeah, for instance, yesterday one of the fifth form hung his girlfriend’s knickers out of the science-block window.”

Walked home after my session with the Hornmeister still in a bit of a daze. When we said s’later, he gave me a kiss on the cheek and didn’t attempt tickly bears or anything. Perhaps he is going straight. Who knows? But, on the plus side, he has said he’ll find out all he can about Masimo for me. He is such a good boy-type pal. He didn’t mention Rachel, which is a bit odd as she’s supposed to be his girlfriend.

Crossing the High Street I bumped into Tom. I like Tom, even though I think he’s mad to go to Kiwi-a-gogo land. And go out with Jas. And go on camping fiascos. And go on about food produce. Other than that, I like him.

He seemed to have a touch of sadnosity about him when he said, “All right, Gee?”

“Yes, fanks all right as an…all-right thing. And you?”

He was unusually silent for him and eventually just said, “You’ll look after Jas for me, won’t you?”