Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 03 (8 page)

No…I am being accurate. And factual.

I came out of the loos into the club. It was very dark; you needed to be half bat to find your way
round. And then, shining like a shining Sex God in trousers, I saw him. Tuning his guitar. He looked up and saw me and smiled. I went over and he grabbed me and dragged me into a room. (“Oh stop it, stop it!” I yelled…not.) It was The Stiff Dylans' dressing room. I'd never been backstage before. I suppose I will have to get used to it.

We did some excellent snogging (six and a half) but then he had to go and tune up with the rest of the band. He said, “See you on my break.”

When I went back to the loos my lip gloss had completely gone!!! Absorbed in the snoggosity.

9:00 p.m.

Yeah! What a dance fest! I was so shattered after being thrown around by Sven that I had to go and have a little sit down in an alcove with Rosie and Jas.

I could see Wet Lindsay and her wet mates dancing right in front of the stage. How desperate was that? In fact, it was all girls at the front, most of them dancing around in front of my Sex God. Smiling up at him and shaking their bums round. But he only had eyes for me. Well, he would have done, had he had a talking sniffer dog that could
have come round and found me sitting in the dark behind a pillar, and gone back and told SG where I was. There was an older bloke in a suit standing by the side of the stage. I bet he was the talent scout.

I said to Jas, “Come and dance in front of the talent scout with me.”

She said, “No.”

“Jas.”

“No, and what is more…”

“What?”

“No.”

“It's no then, is it, Mrs. Huge Knickers? Well, when I am happily being a backup dancer I will think of you packing potatoes.”

She ignored me, but as I say,
In vino veritas.
I don't know why because I am really crap at Latin (according to Slim, spokeswoman for the Latin people).

Well, as usual, I would have to step boldly where no woman had stepped before. I went over and gave my all in front of the talent scout in a triumph of dance casualosity. He seemed quite impressed, but then he went off to the dressing rooms. Probably phoning his record company.

Phew, it was hot and sweaty. I nipped off to the
loos to make sure my glaciosity was still in place and I didn't look like a red-faced loon. My waterproof eyeliner seemed to be holding its own. Rosie was readjusting her piggies next to me in the mirror so I asked her, “Does Sven ever make you jealous?”

“No, not really. He's sort of quite grown-up in his own way.”

As we came out of the loos we could see Sven almost immediately. He was in the middle of a big group balancing a drink on his head and doing Russian dancing. It's a mystery to me how he manages to get down so low, his jeans are so tight.

The Bummers were talking to some really lardy-looking blokes in leather jackets. They all had fags. You could hardly see their heads for smoke. Which was a plus. I did make out that one of the lardheads had a mustache. I shouted to Jools, “Imagine snogging someone with a mustache.”

And she said, “What, like Miss Stamp?”

9:30 p.m.

Jools had been looking at Rollo for about a million centuries and moaning and droning on about him. He was hanging out with a bunch of lads round the
bar. I was trying to concentrate on looking at the Sex God. He is sooooo cool. He's by far the coolest in the band. Dom, Chris and Ben are all quite groovy-looking but they don't have that certain
je ne sais quoi
that the Sex God has. That extra snogosity. That puckery gorgeosity combined with fabulosity. That sexgoderosity.

Jools didn't seem to know I was in Snog Heaven because she was rambling on. “He's quite fit, isn't he?”

“Yeah, he's gorgeous and he's all mine, mine, miney.”

“Gee, I mean Rollo, you banana.”

I was less than interested but she went on and on. “Should I go across?”

Pause.

“Or is that too pushy?”

Pause.

“I think it's always best to play a bit hard to get, don't you? Yes, that's how I'll play it. He'll have to beg to get my attention.”

9:35 p.m.

Jools was sitting on Rollo's knee and snogging for England. Oh well. As I said to Ellen, “She's
obviously gone for the playing-hard-to-get-ticket.”

9:39 p.m.

Tom told me that the “talent scout” was Dom's dad who helps with the band's equipment. He told Dom he thought I was trying to get off with him. OhmyGodohmyGod. I would now have to spend the rest of the night and probably the rest of my life not looking at Dom's dad.

I told Ellen, but she was too busy waiting for Dave the Laugh to show up. I must have been to the loos with her about a hundred times just in case she has missed him in the dark somewhere.

I am without doubt a great mate. You wouldn't get Jas trailing backwards and forwards to the loos. Mostly because she seems to be glued to Tom. She has very little pride.

Quite a few lads have asked me to dance. Well, their idea of asking me to dance, which means they hang round showing off when I'm dancing with my mates. I must have that thing that you can get. You know, like baboons. When female baboons are in the mood they get a big red bottom and then the male baboons know they are in the
mood and gather round. Yes, that must be it—I must have the metaphorical red bottom because of the Sex God.

10:00 p.m.

On his break Robbie came offstage and he looked over at me. This was it, this was the moment that everyone would know I was his girlfriend!! At last all my dreams were beginning to come true. I was going to be the official girlfriend (OG)!! No more hiding our love from the world. Just snogging-a-gogo and Devil take the hindmost. I couldn't wait to see Wet Lindsay's face when Robbie came over to me. Tee hee. Yessss!!!!

In the meantime I lived in Cool City. I was sipping my drink and pretending to talk to Jas and Tom, although every time Jas said anything it really annoyed me. I'd say, “OhmyGodohmyGod, I think he's coming over…. Oh, that absolutely useless tart Sammy Mason is thrusting herself at him now.”

And Jas would say, “She's actually quite a nice person, really good at blodge.”

Ludicrous, stupid, pointless things she was saying. In the end I said, “Jas, can you just pretend
to talk to me, but don't say anything in case I have to hit you.”

Now there was a whole group of girls round Robbie, giggling and jiggling about in front of him! Then Wet Lindsay slimed up. And actually touched his cheek. My boyfriend's cheek she touched. With her slimy hand. Tom said, “Leave it, Gee, just be cool. Honestly, he'll like it better if you don't make a fuss.”

Huh. What did Hunky know about it? Then he said, “Besides which, you're not long off your stick, and she will definitely kill you.”

Fair point. She had deliberately and viciously whacked me round the ankles in a hockey match last month and I didn't want to be hobbling round for another two weeks.

I couldn't bear the tension of waiting for Robbie to come over; it made me really need to go to the piddly diddly department. I nipped off to the loos. A minute or two later Rosie came in, and she wasn't alone; she had Sven with her. He said, “Oh
ja
, here ve is in the girlie piddly diddlys.”

He scared four girls, who went screeching out.

He is a very odd Norwegian-type person. Perhaps they have whatsits in Norwayland? You know,
bisexual lavatories. Do I mean that or unicycle lavatories? No…unisex lavs, I mean. Rosie was completely unfazed by him being there, but as we all know she is not entirely normal herself. She said, “Robbie says he will see you in the dressing room.”

Oh hell's biscuits. Pucker alert, pucker alert!! After an emergency reapplication of lip gloss I made my way to the dressing room. I just got near when I saw Lindsay was there again! This time fiddling around with his shirt collar.

Unbelievable.

Robbie caught my eye and raised his eyebrows to me and then behind her back gave me like a “wait five minutes” sign with his hand.

10:02 p.m.

I was livid as an earwig on livid pills.

Wait five minutes because of her…?

Unbelievable.

10:05 p.m.

Back on the dance floor all my so-called mates were too busy snogging their boyfriends to listen to me complain. OK, I would have to take action on
my own. I said to Jas over Tom's shoulder because they were slow dancing, “I will not, definitely not, play second fiddle to a stick insect.”

She said, “What are you going to do then?”

I had to sort of dance along with them in order to keep up with where her head was. “I'm going to be absent. Upstairs. Don't tell him where I am if he asks you.” Then I hid upstairs in the club. I got a few funny looks from the snoggers up there as I crouched down by the stairs, but I didn't care.

I could look down and see Robbie looking for me. He even sent Jas into the loos to see if I was in there. She did a ludicrous comedy wink up at me as she went. What is she thinking? If she had been a spy in the war, German high command would have only had to get on the blower to her and say, “Vat haf you been told never to divulge?” and she would tell them everything, probably including the Queen's bra size (sixty-four double-D cup).

Anyway, I could see Robbie getting more and more worked up about not finding me. Ha and triple ha. Hahahahaha, in fact. So, Mr. Sex God, the worm is for once on the other foot.

On the downside I had managed to make myself a snog-free zone.

10:20 p.m.

After the SG had gone back onstage to play another set, I went into the loos. Ellen was in there looking all mournful. She said, “I'm going to go. Dave the L hasn't turned up. He said he would see me here, and he hasn't come.”

I tried wisdomosity about elastic bands and when a boy says “see you” who knows what that means, etc., etc. but she wasn't interested.

She went off home all miserable.

Honestly, you try to help people even though you have troubles enough of your own. (And even though some people bring things on themselves because they get off with their best mate's red herrings.)

When I came out of the loos I made sure that Robbie could see how miffed I was. He tried his heartbreaking smile on me, but I ignored him with a firm hand and pretended to be laughing with my mates. I said to Rosie, “Wet Lindsay is a crap dancer, and her hair has no bounceability. Neither incidentally, despite all her efforts, have her basoomas. They just lie there. I think a bit of bounce in a basooma is a good thing.”

I wondered what level of bounceability mine
had when I was dancing. I went to a dark corner at the back of the bar where no one was to inspect them whilst I danced. Well, they certainly did jiggle, not always in time to the music either. Perhaps if I kept my shoulders rigid they would keep still. As I was trying rigid shoulder dancing Dave the Laugh turned up. I was so shocked I went, “Where have you been?”

He grinned. He looked very cool in black. He said, “Why? Did you miss me? Mrs. Dumper.” But he didn't seem bitter or anything. Perhaps he had forgiven me. He said, “God, it's hot in here. Do you fancy a cold drink?”

Well, no harm in a cold drink with an old dumpee is there?

Jas ogled me as I went off to the bar with him, but I just ogled back. Honestly, she acts like she's fifty. She'll start wearing head scarves soon and discussing the price of potatoes with anyone who will listen (i.e., no one). Anyway, if the Sex God could hang out with his exes, so could I.

Dave the L and I took our drinks outside for a breath of fresh air. I sort of said awkwardly, “Dave, I'm really sorry for, you know, using you like a Red Herring.”

He said, “Yes, well…I was pretty upset at the time.”

He seemed unnaturally serious. Oh God's pajamas. I was meant to be having a laugh. Why was he called Dave the Laugh if he was not a laugh? He should have been called Dave the Unlaugh. Shut up, brain.

I said, “Well, you know I just—”

He interrupted me, “Georgia, there is something you should know—I…”

Oh God. OhGoddyGodGod. He sounded like he was going to cry. What should I do? I hadn't been to boy-crying classes; I only went to snogging ones. I looked down at my drink and I could sort of sense him putting his head in his hands. I was just staring at my drink and avoiding looking at him. Then he said in a low sort of broken voice, “I haven't been able to get over you…. I think—I think…I'm in love with you.”

Oh
sacré
bloody
bleu
and triple
merde
. I mumbled, “Dave, I don't know what to say. I, well…I…”

He said, “Perhaps if you could give me just one last kiss.”

I looked round at him. And he looked at me.

And he was wearing a big red false clown's nose.

Actually it was really, really funny, even though the joke was on me. He just looked hilarious!! Both of us were falling about.

But then this awful thing happened. I accidentally found myself attached to his mouth. (He took the red nose off first though.)

midnight

I was in such a tizz of a spaz that I was on time outside for when Vati turned up. Is it really necessary for him to wear a balaclava? And also it's like being on a quiz show; he kept asking me things. “So did you have fun then? Did any lads ask you to dance?”

Why does he want to know everything? I'm not interested in him; why is he so interested in me? I would tell him what a complete fiasco he is making of himself, but I'm not speaking to him so I can't.

Anyway, if he did know that I had been snogging he would probably tie me to the kitchen table like Angus. Or take me to the vet's.

1:00 a.m.

I didn't say good night or anything to Robbie. I just couldn't. I didn't say anything to Dave the Laugh either. After the accidental snog I was in a sort of a daze. Dave the Laugh seemed a bit surprised, too. He said, “Er…right…well…I think I'll just, like…er…at…go to the…”