Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 09 by Stop in the Name of Pants! Read Free Book Online Page A

were here and then we could again, what do you say—snog. And I could touch you and feel your mouth on mine. And look into your lovely face. I was thinking about your beautiful eyes and I think they are so lovely, it makes my heart melt.”
    Crikey, he had turned into Billy Shakespeare. Or Billyo Shakespeario who wrote the famousItalian plays Macuselessio and King Leario .
    Shut up, brain. Now this minitio. Stoppio, nowio. It still wouldn’t stop it (io). I was quite literally tripping around on a cloud of luuurve. Sadly the four pints of Coke I had to keep me going before he phoned now wanted to come out and join me. I tried pressing my bottom against the stool but sooner or later something was going to give. I needed to go to the tarts’ wardrobe vair vair badly. But because my vati was too mean to get a modern phone that you could walk about with I was stuck. I didn’t want to say, “Oh, ’scuse me, I have to go to the piddly diddly department” because that would start another one of those international incidents.
    So I said, “Oh no, someone is at the door, can you just hang on for a mo?”
    He said, “ Sì, cara, I wait.”
    And then weirdly the doorbell did ring. How freaky-deaky is that? I wonder who it was. Well, whoever it was, they weren’t coming in. I nipped into the tarts’ wardrobe. Then the shouting began.
    â€œGeorgia, come on, open the door, we know you are in there.”
    It was Grandad. And he wasn’t alone. I could hear Libby and Maisie. Dear God.
    I can’t keep them out for long because they’ll probably start knitting a rope ladder and get through my bedroom window. Perhaps I could persuade them to go away. There was a bit of silence and then Grandad said, “We’ve got snacks,” and he posted a sandwich through the letter box. I think it was Spam.
    I went back to the telephone.
    â€œMasimo, I have to go now, my grandad is posting sandwiches through the letter box.”
    He laughed. But he laughed alone.
    Then he said, “Phone me when you can, the telefono is Roma 75556666121.”
    He did kissing stuff down the phone and then he was gone.
    I didn’t even remember to say “when shall we speak again” or anything because I was so flustered by the elderly loons. And I wanted to write the number down before I forgot it.
    five minutes later
    People will not believe this, I know, but Maisie has knitted Libby a miniskirt and matching beret for her bridesmaid’s outfit.
    one hour later
    They have gone, thank the Lord.
    four minutes later
    Hearing Masimo’s voice has made everything simple for me vis-à-vis the general Horn, ad hoc red bottomosity, etc.
    I am putting the accidental snogging scenario with Dave the Laugh into a snogging cupboard at the back of my brainbox. A snogging cupboard that I will never be going into again. I have locked the door and thrown away the key.
    Well, I didn’t throw it away, actually, but I have put it somewhere that I will never be able to find again.
    one minute later
    The snogging cupboard is in fact next to another cupboard that has got other discarded boy stuff in it. Like the Mark Big Gob stuff. The resting his hand on my nunga-nunga episode, for instance. Which I have also completely forgotten about and will never remember.
    one minute later
    That cupboard has also got the snogging whelk boy fiasco in it. Erlack a pongoes.
    one minute later
    And that cupboard is next to the set of drawers that has pictures of Robbie the original Sex God in it. Funny I haven’t heard anything from him since I sort of dumped him. I hope he is not on the rack of love. Although that would be a first. Usually it is me that is on the rack of love.
    thirty seconds later
    I’ll just close the drawer now.
    ten seconds later
    I wonder if he has got the mega hump with me? I daren’t ask Tom. Especially as he might be Mr. Ex-Hunky.
    one minute later
    I hope Robbie is not too