Читать книгу ‘… then he ate my boy entrancers.’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 37

Hahahahaha! While Wet Lindsay was telling us off, me and Rosie kept our eyes fixed on her forehead. She couldn’t say we were doing anything wrong, but afterwards she scuttled off to the loos for forehead inspection.

The staring campaign continues!

And she doesn’t know I am off to America to a Snog Fest with the Luuurve God.

I said to Rosie as we ambled off to the Science block, “He probably only took her to Late and Live because he is in the European Union for the preservation of rare species.”

Rosie said, “What? The ‘No Forehead Stick-insect Fighting Fund’?”

“Absolutemento mon pally.”

We are indeed vair vair amusant.