Away Laughing on a Fast Camel

by Louise Rennison

  Oh God, I couldn’t believe we were back here again, round the sodding campfire. I said, “Anyway, he is fabby beyond the dreams of avarice. I have got all of the Horns combined for him, Particular, General and Cosmic.”

  Jas looked very disapproving. “You said Robbie was your only one and only only one and now it’s Masimo, who you have only seen for two minutes. You will end up a lonely person with a reputation for promiscuosity.”

  What is the matter with her? She is the Mother Teresa for a new generation, with a crap fringe. I was furious. I said, “Yes, but do you know what the good news is, Jas? I won’t end up YOU, Mrs. Slug Eater.”

  She got the megahump and we were walking along ignorez-vousing each other when we came across Dave the Laugh AGAIN. Since he got a girlfriend I have seen him all the time; I wonder if he is stalking me. I was about to say that when he grinned and said, “Look, Georgia, stop following me around, you know I love it.”

  Damn!! By this time we had reached Jas’s gate and she went into her drive and said, as a parting shot, “Georgia thinks Masimo is really cool. She likes him, if you know what I mean.”

  I couldn’t believe it!! She had ratted on me and cheapened my love by announcing it on Radio Jas. I could feel my ears going red. As we walked on, Dave was looking at me in a looking-at-me way. Which I hate.

  “You just can’t resist a lead singer, can you, Georgia? He’s flash.”

  I said, “He’s not flash, he’s Italian, that’s what they are like.”

  Dave said, “When I saw him, he was carrying a handbag.”

  “That’s not a handbag, that’s a…er…wallet thing.”

  “It’s a bag he carries in his hand, known as a handbag.”

  I said quickly, not necessarily bothering to involve my brain in the process, “He keeps his revolver in it.”

  Dave looked right into my eyes. He said, “Excuse me—are you officially mad?”

  I said, “No, are YOU mad?”

  And he went, “No…are YOU mad?”

  We’d got to my gate by then and we could have gone on with the “no, are YOU mad?” game forever, but as I started my bit Dave stopped me by tickling me in the ribs. It made me splutter and I got spazoid and he kept doing it. Now I was playing tickly bears with Dave the Laugh. He’d probably start talking Elfin in a minute. What is the matter with boys? I said to Dave, “What in the name of arse is the matter with boys?”

  And he looked at me and then just snogged me! How dare he!!! I tried to tell him off but I couldn’t speak for the snogging. I don’t like to admit this under the circumstances, but he really is a cool snogger and I forgot everything in the puckerosity of the moment. When we stopped for breath he said, “Phwoar—excellent snogging, Georgia.”

  I said, “Why did you do that? You’re going out with someone else.”

  Dave said, “So?”

  I said, “Well, it’s not right.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “You enticing me and snogging me when you’re going out with someone else.”

  “Georgia, you are repeating yourself, and anyway, there is an explanation.”

  Oh here we go, he’ll tell me that it is really me he likes and that it is moi he wants but I will have to say, “I’m sorry, Dave, but I am putting you aside with a firm hand—I am in love with another.”

  I looked at him sympathetically. “What is the explanation, Dave?”

  “I like snogging you and I have got the General Horn.”

  “But…”

  “It’s my age. I’ll grow out of it when I am about forty-five.”

  “But I…”

  “Don’t you like snogging me?”

  “Well, that’s not the point, I mean, don’t you like Rachel…?”

  “Yeah, she’s cool, but I like you as well, and come to think of it, I quite fancy your mum.”

  “You fancy my mum????”

  I couldn’t believe my earlugs. Actually I think even Dave felt like he had gone that little bit too far. He said, “It’s nothing personal. It’s just my hormones, tell them off.”

  I just looked at him.

  He said, “Look, girls and boys are different. Girls like to be touched twenty times a day in a nonsexual way to feel good about themselves—that is why I tickle you and link arms with you—but boys think about sex, snogging and football, and also snogging whilst playing football. Simple.”

  home

  No one in.

  I am completely and utterly living in a state of confusiosity.

  Dave is clearly insane.

  But what if he is right?

  Actually, the way he describes it, it explains a lot of things. Oscar, Mark Big Gob, Cousin James and those boys from Foxwood that run into our legs and say, “Any chance of a shag?”

  5:00 p.m.

  But on the other hand, what about Hunky with boring old Jas, and Sven and Rosie? Oh, I don’t know.

  5:05 p.m.

  Also I sometimes get the Cosmic Horn, so does that mean I am half girl, half boy?

  5:30 p.m.

  Does that mean I will have periods and also be heavily bearded and good at reading maps?

  Actually, looking at my legs, I suspect I do have a touch of the hermaphrodite about me. When does the hair do its growing? It wasn’t there this morning and now it’s about a foot long.

  5:45 p.m.

  Mutti came in from work. I looked at her. How could Dave the Laugh say he quite fancied her? I wonder if she fancies him. Probably; she has no moral backbone. Ohohohoh get out of my head!!!

  6:00 p.m.

  The phone rang and for once Mutti answered it. She started giggling. “So, it’s like a sort of dance orgy thing?” Then I heard her going, “No!!” Then more silence…“No!!!…and he took off all his clothes…to the music??”

  Good Lord.

  Then Mum began again, “Uh-huh…no…no…no…no!!!”

  I thought I would have to kill her to stop her, and then she started again, “So does everyone get naked? Oh I see…he just spontaneously took everything off because he had got carried away by the music. Wow. What time does it start? OK, what are you wearing? OK, see you there.”

  bedroom

  The world, which once seemed a simple place, has gone mad. Mutti has gone off to dance with men in their nuddy-pants. She says it’s called “Five Rhythms.” I bet. Dad is out with his ludicrous mates in the Robinmobile, probably marauding around harassing women. Libby is destroying some poor fool’s house. She has taken Gordy round in his cat basket to “wisit” Josh. I don’t think that Gordy was specifically invited.

  Even Angus is off in his luxury bachelor pad with Naomi. He’s back in the Prat Poodles’ kennel because Mr. and Mrs. Next Door are out.

  6:30 p.m.

  I will have to try to distract myself from thinking about Masimo and the whole Cosmic Horn thing. I’ll try doing some homework. Another bad conduct mark and it’s Detention City for me.

  6:45 p.m.

  How boring is Blithering Heights? Remind me never to read anything else by Emily Brontëchitis.

  7:00 p.m.

  I am soooo restless.

  Phoned Jools and Ellen and they said they would meet me at “homework club,” which is our code for the clock tower.

  8:00 p.m.

  It’s incredibly nippy noodles but at least my face is snug. It should be—it has several layers of makeup on it. I’ve got so much mascara on I’m going to have to do eyelid exercises to keep my eyes open. We sat on the wall by the Co-op. Mark Big Gob came by with his unusually lardy mates, but to my absolute amazement he said, “Alright?” to me. Which is the nearest thing to him saying, “Good morrow, Miss Nicolson.”

  Jools and Ellen were totally fazed. Jools said, “He acted almost like a human being.”

  We discussed the mystery that is boydom. Jools is still thinking about whether to go out with Rollo again. She said, “The last time, he finished with me because he wanted his freedom—so will he want it again in a week, when we start going ou
t again?”

  Hmmmmm.

  I said, “I’m going to have to read more of my How to Make Complete Fools Fall in Love with You book.”

  Ellen said, “You said the book said that if I danced by myself, Dave the Laugh would come and get off with me. He got off but not with me…so what the book says is rubbish.”

  I said, “The book didn’t have a chapter called ‘Dance by Yourself, Ellen, and Dave the Laugh Will Get Off with You.’ It just said that it was a way of enticing boys into your web. And someone did come and dance with you, just not the right someone.”

  Sometimes I amaze myself with my wisdomosity.

  As we walked along, we happened to pass by the Phoenix. (Well, when I say “happened” to pass what I mean is that I deliberately wandered that way.) There was a light on and The Stiff Dylans’ van was outside. Wow…trembly and jelloid knees.

  I said, “I bet Masimo is in there, you know, the new singer with the Dylans. He is absolutely groovy and marvy and fab.”

  Jools said, “So you quite rate him then?”

  I said, “There is a stage door sort of thing that you can get in, and we could have a look at him and the Dylans rehearsing. Come on, it will be cool.”

  Ellen was having a dither attack and talking rubbish about private property and so on. But she followed me and Jools round the back in the dark to the stage door. It was open, so we quietly went in. We could hear the band playing. The door to the main club room was straight ahead, but to the right was a room that they used as a dressing room. I had been in it for snogging extravaganzas with Robbie. Thinking of him made me feel a bit wobbly, but he had chosen furry freaks called wombats rather than me; I had to think of the future. We opened the door and I said to Jools and Ellen, “There is a gap at the top of the wall from where you can see right onto the stage. We could step up on this chair and then onto those boxes.” My skirt was so tight that I had to tuck it into my knickers to get up.

  Jools said, “Now I have quite literally seen everything.”

  Ellen wouldn’t get up because she was a scaredy cat; either that or she was wearing something alarming in the pants department. She has probably been studying at the Jas school of big knickers.

  It was so exciting, when we got up there we could see right onto the stage and no one could see us. The boy stalkers.

  Oh general jelloidosity…there they were, the lads. And one lad in particular. Masimo was wearing a groovy Italian shirt and jeans. He was singing “Play Cool” and it sounded marvy with a bit of an accent.

  Jools whispered, “Phwoar.”

  And I said, “I know.”

  After a few minutes they stopped playing and Dom said, “Shall we pack it in for now? I’m starving.”

  Masimo said, “Yeah, I think it is, how you say, kicking. Do you like to come round to my house and I will fix us some pasta and vino?”

  Dom said, “Ciao bella, mon amigo.”

  And they all laughed and started packing up their gear. Masimo said, “Oh damn…scusi, first I make a phone call.”

  Ben said, “Hot date, Masimo?”

  Masimo smiled—good grief, he was sex on a dish when he smiled. “Well…it’s just someone, she…I will tell her another night. It is cool.”

  He jumped off the stage. Oh God’s shortie nightie, he might come into the dressing room…and although I was keen, I thought being found on a box practically in your nuddy-pants seemed just that little bit too keen.

  We scrambled down, nearly killing Ellen, and rushed off to the door and outside.

  11:00 p.m.

  I had to run home to make sure I got back into Gestapo headquarters before the olds returned. Pant pant pant. Masimo was pant pant gorgey…but who was the girl on the phone pant pant?

  Angus was just strolling home with a mouse tail, as a special present for Mutti. How pleased she will be. I raced upstairs and leapt into bed to dreamy dream how to entrance Masimo.

  Perhaps I had better learn Italian.

  I may suggest to Slim that I give up German because there is no chance I will be going there ever since I learned that snogging in German is knutschen. And as that would leave a gap in my school schedule, I could learn Italian instead because I have a deep interest in er…ancient Rome and so on.

  tuesday april 19th

  jas’s house

  Jas must be setting off at dawn to get to Stalag 14 because she was there before me. She is trying to ignorez-vous me, because I called her Mrs. Slugeater.

  maths

  I gave Jas my most attractive smile but she pretended she was interested in quadratic equations.

  break

  Absolutely typical of this bloody place. I went to see Slim about my Italian plan and I didn’t even get to the ancient Rome bit. In fact, to be honest, I didn’t even get to her office. Hawkeye asked me why I was hanging around waiting to see Slim, and I explained my interest and she said, “Don’t annoy me any more than you do simply by turning up to school. Off you go.”

  That’s nice and encouraging isn’t it? I don’t know why she is a teacher; she hates us. Oh no, I tell a lie—she likes all the useless girlie wet beaky swots like Wet Lindsay and Astonishingly Dim Monica and so on.

  lunchtime

  I borrowed an Italian book from the library, Parliamo Italiano, and found a comfy loo to put my feet up and read.

  five minutes later

  Constantly disturbed by ludicrously excited first formers chasing each other and saying “Oh we did something really brilliant in blodge—we looked at pond life under a microscope.” Surely I wasn’t like them at their age.

  Christ, now they were playing tig. Well, they were until Wet Lindsay came in to torture them. Of course she came rattling at my study door.

  “Who’s in there?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Who’s me?”

  “I am.”

  She completely and unreasonably lost her rag.

  “Get out here now.”

  Oh odds bodkin. I sloped out of the loo. She was remarkably red, and there is really no excuse for her knees.

  “I might have known it would be you.”

  I said, “Lindsay, forgive me if I’m right, but there is no law against going to the piddly diddly department, is there?”

  She said, “Don’t be so cheeky.”

  I didn’t bother to reply. As I was leaving, she said, “Off you go and play with your silly playmates. Honestly, when will you lot grow up?”

  I really hate her. She has never forgiven me for going out with Robbie, or for when she fell over into the sanitary dispenser when I was trying to help her in the school panto.

  outside

  Brrrr. I found a little sheltered corner round the back of Elvis’s hut. The old maniac was nowhere to be seen. So I snuggled under my coat to learn about the pasta-a-gogo people.

  blodge

  Rosie said, “Where in the name of Slim’s chins have you been all lunchtime?”

  I told her about my Italian studies. “The main nub and thrust of their gorgey language is that you add ‘o’ to everything.”

  She said, “Oh, OK, what is…er…‘desk’ then?”

  “Deskio.”

  She looked at me. “What is ‘snog’?”

  “Snoggio.”

  I think she was quite impressed.

  4:15 p.m.

  No sign of Jas, she must be running like the wind when the bell goes, or lurking around until she sees me going home. She is so childish.

  home

  5:30 p.m.

  Mutti insisted on taking me to Dr. Clooney’s surgery. She has made an appointment with him to talk about my work experience. The whole thing is a fiasco. Jas is going to work in the Jenningses’ fruit and veg shop, which means she will be snogging Tom, and Rosie says her work experience will be “having the flu,” and so that means her work experience will be snogging Sven. I don’t know why everyone is bothering with all this work business. I have set my sights far higher than having a job. I am going to be a pop sta
r’s girlfriend. It’s hard work, but someone has to do it. Try telling that to my mum, though. I did try actually. I said, “Look, Mum, it’s pointless going to find out about jobs and stuff, because I am going to be rich beyond the beyond of the Universe of Beyond.”

  She was trying to capture Gordy and Libby, and was getting quite bad tempered.

  “Oh yes, and how are you going to do that, exactly?”

  “I have a plan.”

  “Does it involve hanging around with someone in a local band and them getting a record deal and then you living in a luxurious flat in London and America and having anything you want, for ever and ever? Is that your plan?”

  Wow, sometimes she is almost psychic. How did she know all this? Had she been tuning in to Radio Jas?

  I said, “Wow, how did you know all that?”

  She was stuffing Libby into a pair of dungarees, so she had to speak quite loudly over the growling. I think Gordy was in the dungarees somewhere too.

  “I’ll tell you how I know, Georgia, because sadly, I know what rubbish your brain is full of. Get your coat on.”

  Charming.

  Gordy is being left behind in a secure unit (Libby’s old playpen with the table on top of it). Libby wouldn’t let go of the bars of the cat prison until Mum let her pop Pantalitzer doll in with Gordy to keep him company.

  I’ve never really got Pantalitzer doll. It has a weird plastic face with a horrible fixed smile, and the rest of it is a sort of cloth bag with hard plastic hands on each side like steel forks. It says Made in Eastern Europe, so that is another place I won’t be visiting.

  Vati has gone off on what he calls a “secret mission” with Uncle Eddie. He said to Mum, “I’ll be back for you later. Keep yourself warm for me.”

  And then he snogged her. How disgusting is that?

  Dr. Clooney’s

  Oh, how very embarrassing all this is. I want to be home dreaming up my plan for entrancing Masimo. And also it is only seven days to the gig, and I haven’t even started my cleansing and toning routine—let alone thought about making my eyes as sticky as possible. I should buy some more false eyelashes, otherwise known as boy entrancers. You can get some with tiny little sparkly bits in them. Or is that going a bit too far? I don’t want to blind him, merely mesmerize him.