‘…startled by his furry shorts!’. Louise Rennison

complete fool said that?”

      “YOU did, Jas.”

      “Did I? Well, yeah, but I didn’t mean it, did I? Clearly. That was in the sanctity of our own brains, wasn’t it? I mean, we were going to the PRETEND nose-disguiser shop. I didn’t actually mean you should BE yourself. That is just stupid.”

      I really really could kill her. In fact, if I attacked her stupid fringe suddenly, she might choke on her stupid Midget Gem, and that would be good.

      Sadly, Jas had got interested now. She said, “So let me get this right – he’s choosing between you and Wet Lindsay? Blimey, does she know that? Because if she does, you are dead as a doughnut. Deader.”

      Cheers.

      1:30 p.m.

      The doorbell rang downstairs, and a minute later Tom bounded into the room. He said, “Hey, Georgia… gidday, as our Kiwi pals say! Bonzer to see you!” And he gave me a big, proper boy hug. It felt really nice. Especially as I may never feel another boy’s jumper next to my head in this lifetime, the way things are going.

      He sat down on the bed and looked at both of us and said, “OK, what have you two been talking about? Lipstick?”

      We both looked offended. Tom went on, “Erm… world peace, the Manchester United attacking four? Snogging?”

      I said with dignitosity at all times, “I’ve got a lot more on my mind than boys, Tom. There are other things in the world, you know.”

      He said, “So it’s all over with you and the Italian Stallion then?”

      “No, well, er maybe… oh, I don’t know.” And I blurted out the whole story because it was so nice to have a boy type to talk to. And, for a boy, Tom is very nearly not quite completely insane.

      At the end he lay back on Jas’s stuffed owl family and said, “Wow.”

      I looked at him.

      He looked at me. “Wowzee wow and wow.”

      Jas said, “I know, that’s what I thought.”

      What are they, the idiot telepathic twins?

      I said to Tom, “What do you think?”

      He said, “Well, you know he’s just come out of a big relationship and, well, he’s a fit-looking guy, isn’t he? Not that I’m on the turn or anything. But he is. He could pretty much have any chick he wanted.”

      Jas was nodding away like Tom was Dr Ruth, psychiatrist to the Hollywood set, or something. And she shuffled up really close to him. It’s pathetic.

      Tom went on talking, “Georgia, you don’t think he’s, you know, well, a bit worried that you might be a bit… well, unusual?”

      I said, “Unusual? Like how?”

      Tom said, “Well, when he first asked you if you wanted a drink, you went off disco dancing to Rolf Harris’s ‘Two Little Boys’.”

      Oh goddygodgod, am I never to be free from my own bonkerosity?

      I said, “What else is a person supposed to do when their boy entrancers get stuck together?”

      Jas was still doing her nodding along wisely fiasco. She said to Tom, “Yes, yes, I see what you mean. He may be afraid to go out with her, and really who can blame him?”

      I was just about to lunge for her throat when her mum knocked on the door and said, “May I come in for a moment, Jas? Dad and I are off to the allotment and then we may pop into the club for a quick game of cards, so I’ve left snacks in the kitchen. I know how you young people eat! Bye.”

      Her mutti and vati were going to their allotment. Jas’s mum was wearing welligogs and a proper mum-sized pair of trousers and a cardi. Her vati probably doesn’t even know what leather trousers are. My vati has a clown car and my mum came in last night with her T-shirt on inside out. How am I supposed to know how to behave? Why would any Luuurve God want to have anything to do with me? Oh nooo, please don’t let me blub.

      Tom looked at me and then he put his arm around me. “Listen, Georgia, if he doesn’t get you then its his loss. You’re fab; we all know that.”

      Jas even had a go at being nice. “Yes, you are, er… fab, and you are so, you know… you. I mean, you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t you, would you?”

      What was she rambling on about?

      Tom was fishing about in his rucky. “I’ve got something to show you, Gee.”

      Oh blimey, now he was going to get his newts out or something, at a time like this. He handed me a pile of photos. Oh good, they were of his trip to Kiwi-a-gogo land. How interesting. Not.

      I flicked through them. Trees, trees, sheep, trees, Kiwi-a-gogo people in big boots and shorts and funny beards. And the men were just as bad!!! Hahahahahaha. Oh, shutup, brain. More sheep, wombat droppings, rogue bores, more beards, sheep, trees, sheep and… then I saw the photo of you know who. The Original Sex God Heartbreaker. Smiling into the camera. With dreamy dark blue eyes. Suntanned. Standing in a river wearing shorts. Thank goodness I had eschewed him with a firm hand and felt nothing.

      One minute later

      Corrrrrr. And also phwoar.

      Back in my bedroom of pain

      7:00 p.m.

      I felt like a goosegog extraordinaire round at Jazzy Spazzy’s. All that hand holding and giggling, it’s pathetic. I may as well have been the wife of the Invisible Man. Mrs Invisible Man. It was all kissy kiss kiss, “Oooooohhh, Tom, do you like my new shoes? Oooohhh, Tom, I’ve got a new owl.” Pathetic. I would never do that in front of anyone. I needn’t worry, though, because if Masimo chooses Wet Lindsay, I am going to be living in a lesbian monastery for the rest of my life.

      Five minutes later

      Life really has gone merde when I can’t even speak to my besty pally because she is so BUSY with her boyfriend.

      Well, so be it: if she chooses Tom above me, that is her lookout.

      I will be eschewing her with a firm hand.

      A LOT.

      Like I am eschewing Robbie.

      I will not have him in my brain. There is no room for anyone else in the cake shop of agony; it’s crowded enough in there already. And, anyway, Masimo is my one and only one.

      Maybe.

      Ten minutes later

      I hate Jas. My so-called friend and bestie.

      But I tell you this for free: she will never know how much she has hurt me. I might be in pain, but at least I have my dignitosity.

      That I will never give up for anyone.

      One minute later

      Phoned Jas.

      “Jas, what do you think Masimo will say? Do you think he wants to go out with me? Would you go out with me if you were him?”

      “Oy, don’t start that lezzie business again.”

      “Jas, I am just asking you to imagine being him and what you would think about me if you were him. I mean, you wouldn’t pick Wet Lindsay over me, would you?”

      “She’s got quite nice arms.”

      “Jas, that is the wrong answer. The correct answer is, ‘Of course I would choose you every time, Georgia, you gorgey creature.’”

      “Well,