Читать книгу ‘Knocked out by my nunga-nungas.’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 55

Brring brring.

Please don’t let it be Robbie’s mum or dad. Please don’t let me have to be normal.

Oh thank goodness, SG answered the phone. Jellyknickers all round.

He said, “Hello,” in a Sex Goddy sort of a way.

Wow!!

Then he said, “Hello,” again.

Wow.

Then I realised that normally when you phone someone you are supposed to say something. And that something is NOT “I love you, I love you!” or “gyunghf”. So I took the bullet by the horns and said, “Hi, Robbie … it’s me. Georgia.”

(Very good, I had even said the right name!!!)

He sounded like he was really pleased to hear from me. “Gee! How are you, gorgeous!”

Gorgeous, he, me called, gorgeous. Me, I.

Georgia to brain, Georgia to brain! Shut up shut up shut up!!!!!

He said again, “Gee, are you there? Are you having a good time?”

“Fantastic, if you like being bored beyond the Valley of Boredom and into the Universe of the Very Dull.”

He laughed. (Hurrah!!!)

Oh, it was so dreamy to talk to him. I told him about everything. Well, apart from being molested by my cousin. He says some talent scouts are coming to see the next Stiff Dylans gig!!

Then he said, “Look Gee, I’m really sorry but I have to go. I could talk to you all day but I have to go off to a rehearsal and I’m late now.”

Ho hum. Well I suppose this is the price I must pay for being the GIRLFRIEND OF A SEX GOD POPSTAR!!! YESSS!!

He said, in his groovy voice full of gorgeosity, “See you later. I’d like to snog you to within an inch of your life. I’ll phone you when you get back.”

OOOhhhhhh.

After he had put the phone down I stroked my T-shirt with the receiver, pretending it was him. But then I saw that one of the Jock McTavishes was waiting outside the telephone box, looking at me, so I had to pretend I was cleaning the receiver.