Startled by His Furry Shorts

by Louise Rennison

  one minute later

  Like me.

  Oh God.

  Even Rosie doing her shoulder disco dancing during “Jerusalem” failed to work its usual magic. Although when she sang, “And was Jerusalem builded here amongst these dark satanic pants,” I did snap and join in with the laughing attack the ace gang had. We had to be shuussshed by the Hitler Youth.

  Slim, our beloved elephantine headmistress, was in full jelloid mode. She was wearing an unusually attractive jumper in puce. It must have taken at least ten sheep to make it. When she loses her rag she trembles all over. But each bit trembles independently. Chins, jowls, basoomas. If there were such a thing as jelly wrestling, she would be top at it.

  one minute later

  Oh drone on. Yawn yawn. What was she talking about?

  “…no loitering without intent in the loos…in my day, you were lucky to get a shoe to live in…” Blah blah blah.

  “…only nineteen days to go to our production of Macbeth. I hope you’re all telling your parents about it…” As if.

  Then through the dark mists of boredom like a hearing eye dog I heard my name mentioned. As I drifted back into consciousness I heard her say, “Georgia Nicolson and Rosie Mees to see me in my office immediately after assembly.”

  Oh dear God, what fresh hell?

  I looked at Rosie and she looked back. I shrugged my shoulders, she shrugged back. I looked at the ace gang and shrugged my shoulders and they shrugged back. (The ace gang, I mean, not my shoulders, I don’t mean my shoulders have a shrugging life of their own.)

  What have we done?

  As we were walking out in a Winter Wonderland of shrugging, Hawkeye appeared from nowhere like the bride of Dracula and barked out, “Stop that shrugging!”

  I said to Rosie, “Now shrugging is a capital offense apparently. Don’t accidentally shake your head, for God’s sake.”

  outside slim’s office

  ten minutes later

  In the waiting room of fear there is Rosie and I and a couple of scaredy first formers playing with their pigtails. Oo-er. Ro Ro said, “Do you remember when the Bummer twins had a pigtail-cutting extravaganza?”

  Ah, the Bummers. Jackie and Alison. They had taken bullying to new heights before they were expelled for shoplifting. There was for instance their famous using of first formers as their armchairs. And in a particularly inspired moment they had actually superglued one of the little titches to a bench.

  In their pigtail campaign they used to snip a bit of a pigtail off as they passed by and then hang it on their havvies like scalps.

  Rosie said, “I wonder what has happened to the Bummers?”

  I said, “Prison, with a bit of luck.”

  two minutes later

  Slim had the scaredy little ones in first. They came out about five minutes later all red and crying and hiccupping. I said to them, “What did you do?”

  Ginger titch said, “We…we…drew a picture of a vole with a…a…bra on…on the blackboard in…in…blodge.”

  I said, “Well done, girls, keep up the good work, we are relying on you.”

  Rosie slapped them both on their backs, a bit hard actually. I thought their lungs might shoot out. She said, “Goodus workus, smallus idiotus.”

  And they went off looking really pleased.

  I said, “I like to think they look up to us as examples of womanhood.”

  And Rosie said, “Yes, but what you have to keep in mind is that you are bonkers.”

  Then we heard out beloved leader shout out, “Come.”

  Here we go. A duffing up for something that we quite clearly have not done. Whatever it is.

  Slim was scribbling away at her desk. The chair she must have been sitting on (unless she was levitating) was completely hidden from view by her jelloidiness. I wonder if she has a specially reinforced chair? There is probably a specialist circus furniture shop where she gets her requirements. Imagine the size of her bath. Oh nooooo, now I had a nuddy-pants Slim in my head.

  Slim finally looked up.

  What had we done?

  “I am returning these to you.”

  Wow, this was a turn up for the book. And she handed me a bag. It was the bison horns!!!

  The return of the bison horns! Yesss! The horns, brought back especially from Hamburger-a-gogo land for the ace gang. I fondled the horns and thought back to when I had first worn them riding a bucking bronco bar stool in Gaylords whilst Rawhide played. Let no one say that the Hamburgese have given us no culture besides Elvis. In fact, as I have said many times to those who will listen (i.e., no one), we have a lot to thank our tiny American chums for. Mostly things beginning with H: hamburgers, hillbillies, Howdy Doody, er…horns and so on.

  Slim was still rambling on. “Now I like a joke as much as the next person, but there is a time and a place, and wearing bison horns during German is not the place. Ironically you two are quite bright girls, but you waste your talents on silliness. You won’t get a job as a silly person, you know.”

  I didn’t say “Miss Wilson has,” because, as Slim says, there is a time and a place for everything and time waits for nomads, etc.

  I was pleased to have the horns back and it made me think quite kindly about Slim. She wasn’t such a bad old huge elephantine thing, really. When we got to her door to go, I did think about pretending to be a hilarious alien like in Doctor Who and saying, “I offer you my mandible in peace.” But then I thought, er, no.

  german

  Herr Kamyer seems to have accidentally come to work dressed as a twit. His trousers are so short, they are bordering on the Bermuda shorts area of legwear. And there is never an excuse for wearing a sleeveless jerkin with diamond patterns all over it. Not even if you have been brought up on a diet of spangleferkel. I stared at him. He was quite literally a sight for sore eyes. If you looked at him, he gave you sore eyes. He can always be relied on to come up trumps in the twit arena. He blinked back at me. “Guten morgen, Georgia and Rosie.”

  We clicked our heels together and said, “Jawohl Kommandant.”

  I sat next to Rosie in our comfy seats on the back row. In some of our lessons we are not allowed to sit together for some mad reason that escapes me. Something to do with attention deficit disorder. I got out my chuddie and settled down on my arms to have a little zizz. But I could feel mad beadies looking at me. I opened my eyes. It was Jas. Just looking at me. Look all you want, Miss Looking-at-me Person. She soooo wanted to know why we had been to Duffing Up Headquarters and come back looking so pleased. But she will be the last to know anything about me now.

  fifteen minutes later

  It is impossible to get a decent sleep in German, you just drift off and the shouting begins.

  It’s all ACHTUNG! or Schnell! And Raus raus!!! And more spangleferkel!

  Cor blimey. I was awake now, so I might as well do something. I got the horns out. I nudged Rosie awake and said, “Look at my lap.”

  She said, “As I’ve said before, Georgia, you are an attractive girl and everything but I’m just not interested.”

  I said, “No, really look. Take a good look, drink in the sight. The bison horns are back!” I made up a little dance with the horns on either hand.

  Rosie said, “Sound out the bells of England—the fun days are back!”

  break

  Yes indeedy, even though I am on the rack of luuurve I have the bison horns to comfort me. As we ambled off to ace gang headquarters behind the five’s court I said, “Do you know I can feel it in my waters, the bison horns are a symbol of hope. The fact that Slim gave them back is a sign from Baby Jesus, it is the dawn of a new era.”

  Ellen said, “What, er, do you, er, do you mean that people will be more spiritual and get back to nature and looking after the earth and…”

  Is she mad? I said, “No, what it means is that Masimo will be mine, mine all miney mine mine.”

  I said it to the gang, apart from Jas. Who I was ignorez vousing like billio. She was doing reverse ign
orez vousing by pretending to be interested in what Ellen was saying.

  I said to the others, “In some ways I am looking forward to the autumn term because of course it means the return of the beret. Imagine the scene: a cold morning at Stalag fourteen, the gray day stretches ahead filled with lesbian perverts and sadistic ‘teachers’; but then up the hill past the Foxwood lads setting fire to their farts and generally being prats comes a sight to lift the spirits. Could it be? Is it true? Silhouetted against the sky is an awesome sight. It is the return of the ace gang in winter uniform. Berets proudly worn with bison horn attachments. Yesssss!”

  The gang broke into spontaneous Klingon saluting. Maybe everything is going to be alright.

  two minutes later

  When we got to our headquarters, Rosie donned her horns. She strolled up and down just enjoying the magnificence of her own horns.

  Once we all had them on, I said, “Perhaps this is a good time to repeat the ace gang manifesto, because some people who shall remain nameless to save them shame, and that means you, Jas, seem to forget about the ace gang when boys turn up.”

  Jas didn’t say anything, she just straightened her horns and smoothed down her fringe. In case she was going to have a violent spaz like this morning, I went behind Rosie because my ankle still hurts.

  Rosie said, “Yes, one for all and all for one and one for the road and so on.”

  Jas was still fiddling about with her fringe.

  So Rosie put her arm round me and Jas and said, “Let bygones be bygones, shake hands and let the rule of Horn reign.” Mabs, Jools, and Ellen were all looking at us.

  Mabs said, “One for all and one for the road and all for one.”

  I put my hand out first to Jas, which is vair vair nice of me seeing as it was me who was kicked. But that is me all over. Always the first to offer the hand of friendiness.

  After a little minute Jas held out her hand. Rosie raised her eyebrows, and the ace gang started doing wise (ish) nodding.

  Rosie said, “Now hug.”

  Jas gave me a little hug, and I sort of hugged her back. There was a bit of nunga-nunga contact, so I leapt back quickly and said, “Er…group hug, group hug.”

  This culminated in a group hug that nearly made my eyes pop out. Jools was so hyped up, she yelled, “One for all and all for one and all in a one for…anyway, hip hip hoorah for Merrie England and the ace gang!!!”

  We finished up with a sailor’s hornpipe (which I have to say was a spontaneous idea of mine. Because England is after all a seafaring nation and renowned for its hornpipes).

  Then Wet Lindsay and Astonishingly Dim Monica came round the corner wearing their prefects’ badges. How uncool is that? Vair, vair uncool is the answer. They are always following us about—haven’t they got lives? Lindsay has done something alarming to her head. Her hair has somehow grown a foot over the weekend. (I mean twelve inches, I don’t mean that there was a foot coming out of her head, although there might as well have been.) She’s had extensions. What a mistake. They are spectacularly chav and naff.

  She said, “Aaaah, are you little girls practicing games for one of your pajama parties? Will there be lemonade and biscuits?”

  How could Masimo even think of snogging her??? Erlack a pongoes. I drew myself up with great dignitosity and adjusted my horns, which had slightly fallen over one eye in the excitement of the hornpipe.

  “Your hair is looking unusually, er, unusual, Lindsay, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “I mind you saying anything, in fact I mind you breathing.”

  The bell rang then for end of break. And she went on: “Get back inside because if one of you is a minute late, it’s a bad conduct mark for you all.”

  Oooooh fear factor 10. Not. But we all went grumbling and moaning off toward the science block. Lindsay yelled after us, “And take those horns off, you stupid idiots.”

  I said, “Charming, what a charming charming person she is. In every single way charming.”

  4:15 p.m.

  Walking home with Jas and Ro Ro. Jas has even done linky-upsies with me. She can’t stand being unfriends with me, really. Especially as something vair merde and odure has happened.

  Ro Ro said, “I can’t believe our horns have been confiscated AGAIN. How crap is life in Stalag fourteen? Vair vair crap, is the answer. We should write to the newspapers about it, we are almost bound to be drug addicts by the time we are seventeen because of all the trauma.”

  I said, “We’d only had them back for two hours. It is so so crap. Once again we are hornless.”

  Jas said, “Not only that but we’ve got detention for two nights.”

  I said to her, “Have you thought about going to hospitals and cheering people up, Jas? Because if you have, don’t—that’s all I’m saying.”

  Rosie said, “When we started the bison dance in blodge, I thought Miss Finnigan was busy looking at Jas’s newt.”

  Jas said, “She was. She was very interested in its peculiar markings. Tom said that actually it was the only one of its kind that…”

  I said, “Jas, can you shut up now.”

  She of course got the immediate hump and said, “It was the stools crashing over that attracted her attention.”

  Merde.

  Jas went on raving on to me, “And even then I think she might have let us off. But you just had to cheek her.”

  What? Why was it my fault?

  I said to Mrs. Prissypants, “Why does the finger of shame always point toward me?”

  Jas went rambling on, “Because when she asked you what you were doing, you said that it was a Viking day of celebration. That was when she snapped.”

  Booo.

  After Jas went home, Rosie and I did a bit of skipping to raise our spirits.

  I think our skipping days are numbered, though, my nungas are vair heavy.

  We had to sit down on a bench near the park.

  home

  All quiet on the loon front. I slumped down on the sofa. Oh God, Tues. Weds. Thurs. and all of Friday to go before I knew my luuurve fate. Why did he need a week to think about it? Why didn’t he just say, “Of course I want to be your one and only. You are a Sex Kitty of the first water.” Dave the Laugh would have said that.

  one minute later

  I miss seeing Dave the Laugh, actually, but I don’t feel I can call him. I still don’t know what he meant about me not getting it about me and him. Get what?

  I thought he said we were only young once and we must blow our horns.

  Does he mean he only wants to blow my horn?

  Oo-er.

  No, he can’t mean that.

  Can he?

  ten minutes later

  When Masimo said he would let me know in a week, I wonder if that’s a week boy time or week girl time? If a girl says a week, that’s what she means, but a boy’s week could mean anything. Like s’later.

  twenty minutes later

  Oh this is sooooo boring.

  I’m going out to the park to practice my pretend confident walking, where I have got room to really swing my arms. I’ll see if it works and anyone thinks I am confident.

  park

  Here we are. So. Shoulders back, swingy arms. Walking walking and swing, swing. Feet directly in front of me in a straight line. To make my hips go from side to side. This is a well-known boy-entrancing movement. Swing, swing, hip, hip. Aaah yes. This is working, I am feeling very confident. Hello tree, I am vair vair confident.

  Head up.

  And that’s when I saw Dave the Laugh ambling along with his mates. I hadn’t seen him since the “cream-faced loon” incident. Oh please let him be normal and not ignorez vous me. He saw me and looked across the road, just looking, not smiling. Oh no. This was awful. He is not my mate anymore. I felt a bit like crying. But then he shouted across, “Ciao, Georgia. Ho due gatti e un piccolo maiale!”

  I said, “What?”

  He shouted, “I thought you lurved the Pizza-a-gogo language. I thought you loved
Italian blokes. You know, all that handbags at dawn, ‘Ooh have you seen my lovely trousers?’ sort of thing. ‘Ooo don’t let the rain spoil my hair.’”

  Oh dear, he’s going to be mean to me and hold a grudge and so on. He was going to be Dave the Unlaugh. But then he smiled at me. He had ever such a nice smiley smile. I was so relieved. I smiled back, and I didn’t even reign in my nostrils, I was so pleased we were friends. He didn’t come over or anything, though, he just went walking on with his mates. Then he called back, “Oy missus, you don’t know what I said to you in Pizza-a-gogo ese, do you?”

  I said, “Er, yeah.”

  And he said, “You don’t.”

  “I might.”

  “Yeah you might, but you don’t.”

  He said, “I said, ‘I have two cats and a small pig.’”

  “That’s a lie.”

  He said, “Is it, though?”

  What is he on about?

  Then he tapped his nose. “See you Friday at the MacUseless rehearsal. Get your pants ready for action.”

  Cheeky cat.

  Still, he was sort of friendly, so maybe he still likes me. I hope he still likes me.

  two minutes later

  I still don’t know what he meant about what if you liked someone and let them go. Does he really mean me and him?

  Is he saying he would like to go out with me as my proper boyfriend?

  one minute later

  Why would he say he has two cats and a small pig?

  Boys are without doubt a complete and utter mystery.

  And that is le fact.

  Without doubtosity.

  twenty minutes later

  Oscar was outside his house. He was doing keepie-uppie, listening to his headphones and casually eating a Mars bar at the same time. He said, “Alright?”

  In what he fondly imagines is a cool way.

  But he took his eye off the ball and it went over his wall. He pretended he had meant to do it by falling to his knees and going, “Yesssss!”

  Like he had scored a goal.