Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 03 by Knocked Out by My Nunga-Nungas

I’ve done car snogging. Have you done that?”
    â€œNo…. I’ve done bike snogging.”
    â€œThat’s not the same.”
    â€œOh. Why not?”
    â€œIt’s just not the same.”
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œNo, it isn’t.”
    â€œWell, there are still four wheels involved.”
    Good grief.
    11:00 p.m.
    In the car this afternoon Robbie put his head on my knee and sang me one of his songs. It was called “I’m Not There.” I didn’t tell Radio Jas that bit.
    I never really know what to do with myself when he does his song singing. Maybe nod my head intime to the rhythm? How attractive is that from upside down? And also if you were passing the car as an innocent passerby you would just see my head bobbling round.
    1:00 a.m.
    Libby woke me up when she pattered and clanked into my room. When she had got everybody into my bed she said, in between little sobs, “Ohh, there was a big bad man, big uggy man.”
    She snuggled up really tightly and wrapped her legs round me. I gave her a big cuddle and said, “It’s OK, Libbs, it was just a dream. Let’s think about something nice. What shall we dream about?”
    She said, “Porridge.”
    She can be so sweet. I gave her a little kiss on her cheek and she smiled at me (scary). Then she ripped the pillow from underneath my head so that Pantalitzer and scuba-diving Barbie could be comfy.
    wednesday november 3rd
    7:00 a.m.
    Woke up with a crick in my neck and a sort of air-tank shape in my cheek where scuba-diving Barbie had been.
    Dad came into the kitchen in a suit. Blimey. No one said anything. Apart from Libby, who growled at him. It turns out that it wasn’t a nightmare she had last night. She just woke up and caught sight of Dad in his jimjams. Mum was in her usual morning dreamworld. As she came out of her bedroom getting ready for work, she was wearing her bra and skirt and nothing else. I said, “Mum, please, I’m trying to eat.”
    In the bathroom I checked the back of my head and profile. (There’s a cabinet that has two mirrors on it. You can look through one and angle the other one so that you can look at the reflection of yourself sideways.) Then I put Mum’s magnifying mirror underneath and looked down at myself, because say the Sex God had been lying on my knees sort of looking up at me adoringly and singing (which he had). Well, I wanted to know what that looked like.
    I wish I hadn’t bothered for two reasons: Firstly, when I looked down at the mirror I realized that my nose is GIGANTIC. It must have grown overnight. I look like Gerard Depardieu. Which is not a plus if you are not a forty-eight-year-old French bloke.
    Secondly, you can definitely see my lurker from underneath.
    8:18 a.m.
    Jas was waiting for me at her gate. I was a bit aloof and full of maturiosity. Slavey girl said, “I’ve brought you a Jammy Dodger all to yourself.”
    â€œYou can’t treat me badly and then bribe me with a Jammy Dodger, Jas.”
    She can, though, because I was soon munching away.
    On the way up the road I said to Jas, “Do you think my nose is larger than it was yesterday?”
    She said, “Don’t be silly. Noses don’t grow.”
    â€œWell, everything else does—hair, legs, arms…nunga-nungas. Why should your nose be left out?”
    She wasn’t a bit interested. I went on, “And also can you see I have a lurker up my left nostril?”
    She said, “No.”
    â€œBut say you were sort of looking up my nose, from underneath.”
    She hadn’t a clue what I was talking about. She has the imagination of a pea. Half a pea. We were just passing through the park and I tried to explain.“Well, say I was singing. And you were the Sex God and you were lying with your head in my lap. Looking up adoringly. Marveling at my enormous talent. Waiting for the appropriate moment to leap on me and snog me to within an