Читать книгу ‘… and that’s when it fell off in my hand.’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 14

This is boring. I’ve been cooped up for about a million years.

What time is it?

Phoned Jas.

“Jas?”

“Oh God.”

“What time is it?”

“What?”

“Why are you saying ‘what’? I merely asked you a civil question.”

“Why don’t you look at your own clock?”

“Jas, have you noticed I am very, very upset and that my life is over? Have you noticed that?”

“Yes I have, because you have been on the phone telling me every five minutes for a month.”

“Well, I am soo sorry if it’s too much trouble to tell your very bestest pal the time. Perhaps my eyes are too swollen from tears to see the clock.”

“Well are they?”

“Yes.”

“Well how come you could see to dial my number?”

Mrs Huffy Knickers was so unreasonable.

“Anyway, I’m not your bestest pal any more, Nauseating P. Green is your bestest pal now that you rescued her from the clutches of the Bummer twins.”

I slammed down the phone.

Brilliant. Sex Godless and now friend to P. Green, that well-known human goldfish.

Sacré bloody bleu and triple merde.

And poo.

Oh Robbie, how could you leave me and go off to the other (incredibly crap) side of the world? What has Kiwi-a-gogo land got that I haven’t? Besides forty million sheep.

I think I’ll play the tape he gave me again. It’s all I have left to remind me of him and our love. That will never die.