Читать книгу ‘…startled by his furry shorts!’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 81

Walking home with Jas and Ro Ro. Jas has even done linkyupsies with me. She can’t stand being unfriends with me, really. Especially as something vair merde and odure has happened.

Ro Ro said, “I can’t believe our horns have been confiscated AGAIN. How crap is life in Stalag 14? Vair vair crap, is the answer. We should write to the newspapers about it. We are almost bound to be drug addicts by the time we are seventeen because of all the trauma.”

I said, “We’d only had them back for two hours. It is so so crap. Once again we are hornless.”

Jas said, “Not only that but we’ve got detention for two nights.”

I said to her, “Have you thought about going to hospitals and cheering people up, Jas? Because if you have, don’t – that’s all I’m saying.”

Rosie said, “When we started the bison dance in blodge, I thought Miss Baldwin was busy looking at Jas’s newt.”

Jas said, “She was. She was very interested in its peculiar markings. Tom said that actually it was the only one of its kind that—”

I said, “Jas, can you shut up now?”

She of course got the immediate hump and said, “It was the stools crashing over that attracted her attention.”

Merde.

Jas went on raving on to me, “And even then I think she might have let us off. But you just had to cheek her.”

What? What? Why was it my fault? I said that to Mrs Prissypants, “Why does the finger of shame always point towards me?”

Jas went rambling on, “Because when she asked you what you were doing, you said that it was a Viking day of celebration. That was when she snapped.”

Booo.

After Jas went home, Rosie and I did a bit of skipping to raise our spirits. I think our skipping days are numbered, though, my nungas are vair heavy. We had to sit down on a bench near the park.