I met Jas on the way to school. She was trailing her rucky along as we walked. I said, “Dave sent me a card today, it said, Merry one week anniversary, gorgeous. lots of love, D, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.”
She didn’t say anything. I said, “Jas, what are you doing?”
She was all pale, I noticed.
“I haven’t heard from Tom and I tried to ring him and he was out.”
“Ah yes, well.”
“You said I should say, ‘Have your own space, Tom’.”
“Yes, well…”
“And now he’s got loads of space.”
“Ah yes.”
“And so have I.”
“Yes…”
“But I don’t want it.”
Oh good grief. I’m not going to be an agony aunt if all people do is moan on all the time.
Last bell
3:50 p.m.
Jas, Jools, Ellen, Rosie and me were lurking near the science block, hiding from the Gestapo (Hawkeye) who wants to ask me about the lunchbox beret idea. Everyone has been doing it. Slim told us not to be so silly; she said in assembly, “You are making a mockery of the school’s good name in the community.”
Anyway, we have taken her advice to heart and we are going to have a “blind day” instead. After last bell we went to the alleyway in between the Science block and main school, waiting for an opportunity to dash out of the gates when Hawkeye was not looking. We all had our lunchpack-berets on apart from old spoilsport knickers Jas.
Rosie said, “On the blind day next Wednesday the deal is we all shut our eyes for the whole morning and have to have minders that guide us around. From lesson to lesson.”
I said, “Wait a minute, we have sports on Wednesday, it’s hockey. That will be a laugh.”
Jas said gloomily– she had been an unlaugh all day– ”Hawkeye will stop us, with detention and so on.”
Rosie said, “No, because we will explain that we are being sponsored and are doing it so that we will have a better understanding of the poorly-sighted.”
That’s when we saw something awful. The SG drove up to the school gates in his car and Wet Lindsay ran out and got in!
7:00 p.m.
In a way I feel free. If SG chooses Owlie over me then he is the loser. So be it. That is the Buddhist way. Omm. I will not be the crow finding the snake or whatever it found. Who cares? It’s only a crow.
8:00 p.m.
I need a break from being a Buddhist for a minute. POOO!!! DOUBLE MERDE!!! Life really is a pooburger.
9:00 p.m.
Mum came in for a “chat”.
“Dad’s home in a week.”
“Still time for a few serious medical complaints, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Doctor Clooney.”
“Georgia, you’re mad.”
“Am I?”
“Look, all it is is that I think he’s quite good-looking.”
“Well that’s because you are comparing him to Dad.”
“Don’t be rude.”
“I’m not, I’m being factual.”
“Anyway, you needn’t worry, it’s just innocent flirting.”
“Yes it is for you but what if Doctor Clooney really likes you? And what about if he will be really upset if he finds out you are just toying with him? Like a toying person?”
She went off looking all worried. Good. That’s two of us all worried and guilty. And confused.
9:30 p.m.
Dave phoned. He said, “I just called to say I really like you. Night-night.”
Good grief.
I wonder if all heartless babe magnets feel guilty?
Tuesday October 12th
Hockey pitch
2:30 p.m.
Hockey match against boring old Hollingbury College. They really do think they are cool, but sadly they are about to find out that they are not.
I had a sneaky look in their changing room when I pretended to be fastening up my boots. It was a nightmare of thongs. I noticed Miss Stamp busily popping in and out, saying things like, “Don’t mind me, I was just wondering if you had enough towels.”
She was all red and keen. Running on the spot, and so on. Very alarming if you’re not used to it. I noticed quite a few of the Hollingbury girls were rushing off into the loos when she came in. They were getting a bit jittery. So I used sporting tactics. I said, “Miss Stamp, I wonder if the Hollingbury team would appreciate a bit of physio after the match. You know, if they had any little knocks or anything you could offer to…er…treat them yourself. Use those magic healing hands.”
Adolfa was a bit suspicious. But she couldn’t figure out my angle. I heard her go back into their changing room and say something about treatment. All of the Hollingbury girls shot out of the door and on to the pitch. Ah good, a nervous team, desperate not to get injured!! Result!!!
It’s very nippy noodles. I’ve got three pairs of knickers on. I probably look like Nauseating P. Green from the back…or Slim. Still, better a fat bum than a numb bum. There is a little crowd supporting us, most of my mates actually. Although not Jas, she wasn’t at school today. I hope she has not gone all weird because of Tom.
The slimiest wet weed who shall remain nameless (Lindsay) is captain of the team. Erlack…well I will not do anything that she says. In our pre-match talk she said, “So remember to watch me for instruction, and when you get into any kind of shooting position, watch for me to come and take on the shot.”
Oh yeah, dream on, wet and weedy one. With a bit of luck someone will knock her stick insect legs from under her. I am not saying I want her to be badly injured, just badly enough that she has to go away to a convalescent hospital somewhere (Mars) for a year or two. Thank you, Buddha. (You can see how I am not taking poo lying down.)
2:50 p.m.
Cracking match. I am playing a stormer, even if I say so myself. Zipping up and down the pitch, hitting the ball up to the forwards. Excellent passing!! I’m like David Beckham apart from the hockey stick and skirt and three pairs of huge knickers. Although who knows? Posh Spice may insist he wears sensible snug knickers in the winter time. She is a very caring person. But quite thin.
Half-time
No score
3:15 p.m.
Rosie, Ellen, Jools and Mabs are like cheerleaders. They have made up this song which goes, “One– two– three– four– go, Georgia, go!”
I said to them as I came off, “It doesn’t rhyme,” and Ellen said, “Well, it’s too nippy noodles.”
Brrr. She’s right. I went into the loos to run my hands under the hot water tap. Oh no, the Bummer Twins had got Nauseating P. Green cornered