Читать книгу The Complete Fab Confessions of Georgia Nicolson: Books 1-10 - Louise Rennison - Страница 331

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 in the changing rooms. She was blubbing. They didn’t even look round when I came in. Jackie said, “So, Snitcher, what did you tell Lindsay about us knocking off school?”

Nauseating P. Green was trembling like a huge jelly elephant. “I…I…didn’t say…anything…”

I thought I should shout at her, to help, “Tell them about your hamsters, P. Green, that will bore them to death and you can run off.” But I looked at Jackie’s big arms and thought I wouldn’t bother.

As I was going out again the Bummers started shoving P. Green against the loo doors. Oh bum, bum.

Alison said, “We don’t like snitchers…do we, Georgia?”

I said, “Oh, they’re all right, I—”

Jackie shoved P. Green so hard that her glasses flew off. That did it. I could no longer be the Bummer Twins’ armchair. I said, “Leave her alone now.”

Jackie looked at me. “Oh yeah, big nose, what are you going to do about it?”

I said, “I’m going to appeal to your niceness.”

She laughed and said, “Dream on, Ringo.”

I said, “Yes, I thought that might not work, so this is plan two.”

Actually there wasn’t a plan two. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was like a thing possessed. I leaped over to them and grabbed Jackie’s fag packet out of her hand. Then I ran into the loos with it and held it over the toilet. I yelled, “Let her go or the fags get it!”

Jackie was truly worried then and had a sort of reflex action to save her packet of fags. Alison came towards me as well, leaving Nauseating P. Green trembling by herself. I shouted, “Run like the wind, P. Green!!!”

She picked up her glasses and just stood there, blinking like a porky rabbit caught in a car’s headlights. Good grief! I tried to give her confidence. “Well, not like the wind, then, but shuffle off as fast as you can.”

Eventually she went off and I was left to face the Bummers. I charged past them shouting, “Uurgghhhhgghhh!”, that well-known Buddhist warrior chant. I chucked the fags out of the packet on to the floor. When I looked back as I dashed out of the door they were scrabbling around picking them up. I raced out on to the pitch for the second half to a big cheer from the Ace Crew. I thought I may as well enjoy the game because the Bummers would be killing me immediately after it was over.

I noticed there were a few boys gathered at the opposite end of the pitch. One of them cheered when I ran on. Probably Foxwood lads. They sort of appeared any time there was the least hint of knicker flashing. Or nunga-nunga wobbling. I don’t know how they knew, or had found out we were playing today. Probably Elvis Attwood got on the tomtoms in his hut and drummed out a message to let them know there was a match on. He was lurking around pretending to be busy, wheeling his wheelbarrow. There was never anything in it. Old Pervy Trousers. Anyway, let the lads look at my nunga-nungas if they wanted! Let my nostrils flare free. Let my waddly bottom waddle, what did I care??? I was going to be dead anyway when the Bummers got hold of me.