Читать книгу ‘…startled by his furry shorts!’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 80

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 hurt.

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 arms 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 leaped 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 hooray 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 prefect 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 be.) She’s had extensions. What a mistake. They are spectacularly chav and naff. She said, “Aaaah, are you little girls practising games for one of your pyjama 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 ten. Not. But we all went grumbling and moaning off towards 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.”