Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 08 by Love Is a Many Trousered Thing

must be cool and calmy calm. I must not under any circumstances turn into ditherqueen and remind Robbie how much younger than him I am. I must exude sophisticosity at all times.
    Nearly fell down the stairs because I was trying to keep my eyes open. Mum came out of the kitchen.
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œJust round to Jas’s.”
    â€œWhat, with half a ton of makeup and your shortest skirt on?”
    â€œMum, just leave it for once. Remember when you were young, there must be some papyrus scroll somewhere that will remind you of what it was like.”
    She looked at me. “Georgia, that is not the way to get a favor out of me.”
    I would have to risk it. I said, “Mum. The letter was from Robbie. You know, from before? Well, he has come back unexpectedly and I don’t know why, but he asked me to meet him tonight. Please don’t ruin my life.”
    To my amazement she said, “Alright, but you must be back at a reasonable time, otherwise yourdad will have one of his turns and no one wants that.”
    What? No argument? As she went off she said, “You look lovely. Why wouldn’t he want to go out with you? Just try not to do that thing that you do when you are nervous and your brain drops out. And why are you staring at everything?”
    I gave her a quick kiss and leapt out of the door.
    ten minutes to get to east street
    Pant pant.
    five minutes later
    Nearly there. I must stop my starey eyes now and prepare for sticky eye work like what it says in How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You . Yes and it is also time for hip work. And…hip swing, hip swing, flicky hair flicky hair, licky lips, hip swing, hip sw—
    There he was! Robbie the Sex God. How many hours had I spent longing for this moment? How many times had I cried myself to sleep just dreaming of him coming to meet me?
    He looked vair cool and tanned. Not in an English way, which is a bit like crispy bacon bitswith a touch of tomato sauce, but in a groovy gravy sort of way. He was wearing all black. A suit with a collarless black shirt. My heart went all melty. And my legs. And my brain. Hurrah, jelloid girl was back! He turned round and saw me and smiled and shook his hair back out of his eyes. They were incredibly blue black against his tan and all softy looking and he looked like he really liked me. I held my hand out for him to shake. Why? Had I turned into the Duke of Edinburgh? He smiled in a puzzled sort of way but took my hand and shook it.
    â€œEr, how do you do? You’re not dashing off for a train, are you?”
    I went beetroot.
    â€œNo, I—well, that was a bit of a misunderstanding, trainwise.”
    â€œWhat, you mean as there is no train station in town?”
    â€œYes, that will be the one.”
    He laughed then.
    â€œI’d almost forgotten how interesting life can be around you, Georgia.”
    But he said it in a sort of nice way.
    And I said, “Hgnnfff.”
    Which is a quite brilliant thing to reply if youwant someone to run away.
    Robbie looked at me. “Look, let’s just try and relax and have a nice time, it’s OK. We haven’t seen each other for ages.”
    two minutes later
    He really is vair groovy looking. I had slight jelloid knickers. Then I heard Jas’s voice in my head saying, “Tart.” I don’t see why, though, because I am still a free woman. I haven’t plighted my troth with Masimo. I haven’t had a chance to plight anything, as he hasn’t bothered to get in touch with me. I am officially an untrothed person.
    Robbie suggested we go to La Strada, which is a cool Italian bar/coffeehouse sort of place with sofas and stuff. All the groovy types go there, it’s perfect for showing off in.
    three-quarters of an hour later
    Robbie has been telling me about his time in Kiwi-a-gogo land. He’s made me laugh quite a lot, but I must say there is a high level of tensionosity. He hasn’t actually said