Читать книгу ‘Luuurve is a many trousered thing…’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 62

I must have toast to calm down.

I was buttering it when my mad little sister Libby popped her head out of the airing cupboard. “Heggo, Ginger. Come in my nest. Now.”

I looked up at her. “Libbs, I’m too big for it.”

“No.”

“Yes, I am.”

Her face went all frowny and she started snorting and tutting like she has heard Mum do. I wasn’t liking this. The frowny face is not one I like to see because usually I am in agonising pain seconds later.

However, this time it wasn’t my turn to suffer. Libby disappeared into her “nest” and then scuba-diving Barbie came flying out, quickly followed by Mr Potato, Pantalitzer doll (well, the head) and finally, after a lot of panting and heaving and squealing, Gordy came hurtling through the air. He came to a skidding halt on the dish rack and then did that shivering thing before he hurled himself through the cat flap.

Libby popped her head out again and smiled in a terrifying way. “Come on, Gingey… it’s naaaaaice.”

Oh dear God. Still, what else was I doing this fine evening that I couldn’t squeeze into an airing cupboard with my clearly insane sister? She looked me straight in the eye and said, “I lobe you velly times twice.”

Aahhh. At least she “lobes” me, unlike my so-called bestie Jas, who is dead girl to me now that she can’t even perform the slightest task.