Louise Rennison - ‘Stop in the name of pants!’

Phoned Jas.

Her mum answered. “Hello, Georgia. Gosh, you had a fabulous time camping, didn’t you? Jas said you sang and played games till all hours.”

I said, “Er yes…”

“You had a great time, I bet.”

“Er yes, it was very, erm, campey.”

“Good. I’ll just call Jas, dear. I think she’s in her bedroom dusting and rearranging her owls and so on.”

You couldn’t really write it, could you? If I wrote a book and I said: “I’ve got a mate who dusts her collection of stuffed owls and follows greater toasted newts about,” people would say: “I’m not reading that sort of stupid exaggeration. Next thing you know, someone will say they went to a party dressed as a stuffed olive. Or accidentally snogged three boyfriends at once.” Hang on a minute, everything has gone a bit déjà vu -ish.

Jas came on the phone. “Yes.”

“Jas, it is me, the Whore of Babylon, but I am preparing myself to forgive you.”

“What are you forgiving me for?”

“Because you are a naughty pally saying things about me being selfish and lax and having a million boyfriends.”

Jas said, “It’s up to you how many boyfriends you have. I am not my brother’s keeper.”

“Jas, I know you aren’t. You haven’t got a brother.”

“I mean you.”

“I haven’t got a brother either, thank the Lord. I do, however, have an insane sister, who by the way is now probably going to be done for TBH.”

“You mean GBH – grievous bodily harm.”

“No, I mean TBH. Toddler bodily harm. Josh’s mum has complained about her and she is suspended from nursery school. She is staying with Grandfarty and he is looking after her. She is the first person in our family to get a restraining order besides Grandad.”

Jas was not what you would call full of sympatheticnosity.

“I don’t think she will be the last person in your family to get a restraining order, Georgia. I am a bit busy actually.”

“Jas, please don’t have Mrs Hump with me. I need you, my dearest little pally wally. Pleasey please, be frendy wendys. Double please with knobs. And a tiny little knoblet. And—”

“All right, all right, stop going on.”

She deffo had the minor hump, but it was only four on the having-the-hump scale. (cold-shoulderosity work).

“Jas, come on. Remember the laugh we had when we all snuck off to the boys’ tent? And I came and told you that Tom was there, didn’t I? Even though you were singing ‘Ging Gang Gooly’.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“I displayed magnanimosity, which isn’t something everyone can say. But I did it because I luuurve you. A LOT.”

“OK, don’t go on.”

“You are not ashamed of our luuurve, are you, Jas?”

“Look, shut up. People might hear.”

“What do you mean, the people who live in the telephone?”

“NO, I mean, anyway, what’s happened?”

“I’ve got a postcard from Masimo and we have to call an extraordinary general meeting of the Ace Gang.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Naaaice and sunny. I wore my denim miniskirt and halter neck and some groovy sandals. I will have to do something with my legs, though, because they give me the droop, they are so pale. Rosie had some eye-catching shorts on; they had pictures of Viking helmets all over them. She said, “Sven had them specially printed in my honour. Groovy, aren’t they?”

I said, “That is one word for them.”

Rosie said, “Sven has got his first dj-ing job next weekend and I am going to be his groupie. You all have to come.”

We settled down in the shade underneath the big chestnut tree by the swings. The bees were singing and the birds a-buzzing, dogs scampering around, people eating ice creams, toddlers sticking ice creams in their eyes by mistake etc. A lovely, lovely summer afternoon, ideal to sort out the game of luuurve.

We had just passed round the chuddie and decided for Ellen where she should sit after about eight minutes of: “Well, erm, I should sit in the shade really, don’t you think, because of the ultraviolet, but, erm, what about, erm, not like getting the sun and then like maybe not getting enough vitamin D because that would be, like, not great. Or something.”

Finally she sat with her top part in the shade and her legs sticking in the sun because we told her no one had ever got cancer of the knees. Which might or might not be true, but sometimes (in fact, very often, in my experience) lying is the best policy. Especially if you can’t be arsed talking about something boring any more.

I don’t know why I bother lying because Ellen has gone off to the loos to run her wrists under cold water so she doesn’t get sunstroke of the arms.

Jas still hasn’t turned up. I wonder if she has progressed to number six on the hump scale and is doing pretend deafnosity?

The Ace Gang started talking about the camping trip and sneaking out to see the lads at night.

Mabs said, “I had a go at snogging with Edward.”

Jools said, “What was it like?”

Mabs chewed and popped and said, “Quite groovy. We did four and then a spot of five.”

I said, “Oh, so you missed out four and a half as well. I said I thought it was a WUBBISH idea that Mrs Newt Knickers came up with. Who apart from her and Tom would do hand snogging?”

Mabs said, “What do you mean ‘as well’?”

I said, “What do you mean ‘What do you mean as well?’”

Mabs put her face really close to mine. “Georgia, you said, and forgive me if I’m right, ‘Oh, so you missed out four and a half as well.’ Which means, ‘Oh, so you missed out four and a half as well AS ME.’ Meaning you must have missed out four and a half with someone. The only someone around was Dave the Laugh.”

Uh-oh, my red-herringnosity skills were letting me down.

Mabs was going on and on like Jas’s little helper. “So what did you get up to with Dave the Laugh by the river?”

I said in a casualosity-at-all-times sort of way, “Ah well, I’m glad you asked me that. Because suspicionosity is the enemy of friendshipnosity. The simple truth is that Dave and I were playing, erm, tig. Yes, and I accidentally fell in a stream and then I went back to my tent because I was, er, wet.”

Rosie said, “You and Dave were playing tig. I see. One moment. I must give this some serious thought. Luckily I have my pipe.”

Oh no.

Good Lord, I am being interrogated by Inspector Bonkers of the Yard.

The inspector (i.e. Rosie with her pipe and beard on) continued, “You expect us to believe that you and Dave the Laugh gambolled around the woods playing a little game of tig?”

I said, “Yes.”

Rosie said, “You are, it has to be said, my little chumlet, even dimmer than you look.”

Ellen came back then, just in the knickers of time. I smiled at her and said in a lighthearted but menacing way, “You haven’t told us about Declan. It is Ace Gang rules that we do sharesies about snogging.”

Rosie and Mabs raised their eyebrows at me, but I ignorez-vous ed them.

Ellen heaved herself into her Dithermobile and said, “Well, Declan showed, well, he showed me something and—”