The Complete Fab Confessions of Georgia Nicolson: Books 1-10. Louise Rennison
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were helpless with laughter and so couldn’t undo them. It took me ages to get free. Then Rosie wrote a note:
This is the plan – Operation Movio Deskio. Whenever Miss Idris writes on the board we all shift our desks back a couple of centimetres, really quietly.
By the end of the lesson when she looked round from the board we were all squashed up against the back wall and there was a three metre gap in front of her. We were speechless with laughing. She just blinked through her glasses and didn’t say anything.
Then it happened. Jas and I got to the school gate and Robbie was there. For one moment I thought he had realised that it was ME ME ME he wanted and not old dumbo, but he gave me a HORRIBLE look as I passed by. I said to Jas, “Did you see that? What’s he got against me? All right, he’s seen my knickers, but it’s not a hanging offence.”
Jas went a bit red. I said, “Do you know something I don’t?”
And she said nervously, in a rush, “Well, erm, maybe. I think he’s a bit cross, because Tom’s upset we’re not going out and I said it was partly because I’d spoken to you and you had said I really shouldn’t go out with someone in a fruit and veg shop because it was not really good enough for me. Well, you did say that.”
I got hold of her by her tie. “You said what????!!!”
She just blinked and went pink and white.
Midnight
I CANNOT BELIEVE IT. Stabbed in the back by my so-called best friend. It was never like this in the Famous Five books. No wonder Robbie is so moody and stroppy with me.
Monday November 23rd
4:15 p.m.
Terrible day. Jackie “suggested” that we do something to pass the time in German, whilst Herr Kamyer amused himself declining verbs on the blackboard. (What a stupid language German is, you have to wait until the end of the sentence to find out what the verb is. But my attitude by then is, Who cares?? I think I might start calling my father Vater and my mum Mutter just for a change. Vati and Mutti, for short.)
Anyway, Jackie said we should mark each other out of ten for physical attractiveness. The list was skin, hair, eyes, nose, figure, mouth, teeth. You had to write out the list and put your name on the top of the paper and then pass it round to everyone to give you a mark. It was Jackie, Alison, Jas, Rosie, Jules, Ellen and Beth Morgan. I didn’t want to do it but you don’t say no to Jackie. I more or less gave everyone near top marks for everything... even in the face of obvious evidence to the contrary. For instance, I gave Beth seven for her teeth – my logic was that they might be nice when the front ones grow back in, you never know. All the marks were given anonymously. Then we got our papers back with the marks listed.
My list was:
Someone gave me a nought for my nose!!! I got the lowest marks out of anyone. My best feature was my teeth! Jas had got mostly eights for all of her features and so she was in that really annoying mood when you’ve done quite well in an exam and it makes you sort of “kind” to people who haven’t done as well. We compared marks on the way home.
“You’ve got more marks for your mouth than me, Jas. What’s wrong with mine? Why is yours so much better? Did you give me six and a third? That looks like your handwriting.”
She was squirming a bit by now. “Does it?... No, I don’t think it is.”
Then I had her. “Well, if it’s not that one you must have given me even less than that.”
She backed down. “Oh yes, actually, yes, that is my writing, yes.”
I was livid. “What is wrong with my mouth?”
“Nothing, that’s why I’ve given you six and a third.”
“But that’s only average.”
“Well, I know I would have given you more, because I think that it’s definitely seven or even an eight when it’s closed.”
“When it’s closed,” I said dangerously.
Jas was as red as two beetroots. “Well, I had to consider things overall. You see, it’s your smile.”
“What about my smile?”
“Well when you smile, because your mouth is so big...”
“Yes, do go on...”
“Well, it sort of splits your face in half and it, well, it spreads your nose out more.”
7:00 p.m.
In my room in front of the mirror. Practising smiling without making my nose spread. It’s impossible. I must never smile again.
8:00 p.m.
Phoned Jas.
“Jas, you only gave me seven and a half for my figure, and I gave you eight for yours.”
“Well?”
“Well I only gave you eight because you are my friend.”
“Well I only gave you seven and a half because you are my friend. I was going to give you seven.”
Midnight
How dare Jas only give me – what was it? – eight for my eyes? I gave her eight for hers and she has got stupid brown eyes.
1:00 a.m.
That stupid Morgan can only have given me four, three or nought for my nose. I gave her six and a half for hers and I was being very bloody generous when I did.
What is the point of being a nice person?
Thursday November 26th
9:00 p.m.
Vati dropped a bombshell today – he is going on a trip to NEW ZEALAND because M and D are thinking of going to live there! I don’t know why they bother to tell me. I don’t really see what it has to do with me. It was just as I was on the dash to school and Vati said, “Georgia, I don’t know if you have heard anything but there’s been a lot of redundancies at my place.”
I said, “Vati, don’t tell me you are going to have to go on the dole with students, and so on. You could always sell your apron if we get too short of money.”
Monday November 30th
4:20 p.m.
Jas still moping about Tom. We have to avoid “his” part of town now. I hope I’m not going mad but Rosie told me that she draws stuff on the roof of her mouth with her tongue. Like a heart or a little house. I said she was bonkers but now I’ve started doing it.
5:00 p.m.
Bumped into the boy up the street I met at Bonfire Night. We sat on our wall for a bit. It’s funny, he’s one of the only lads I don’t feel like I should rush off and cover myself in make-up for. I don’t even flick my hair so that it covers half my face (and therefore half my nose). Dad says if I keep doing it I will go blind in one eye, and also that it makes me look like a Pekinese, but what does he know? And anyway, it won’t bother him in New Zealand.
Bonfire Boy is called Mark and I suppose the reason I’m not too self-conscious in front of him is that he has a HUGE mouth. I mean it, like Mick Jagger. He is about seventeen and he goes to Parkway, the rough school. He’s mad about football and he and his mates go play on the park. I think I’ve seen them when I’ve “accidentally” taken Angus for a walk up there. He’s sort of quite attractive (Mark, not Angus), despite the mouth. He wants to be a footballer and has got a trial somewhere. When I left he said, “See you later.” Oh no, here we go again, on the “See you later” trail.
9:00 p.m.
Saw Mark walking down the street with his mates. He looked round