10:00 p.m.
I had to sleep in the sleeping bag. What a life.
friday september 4th
11:00 a.m.
Emergency Beret and Other Forms of Torture meeting to be held this afternoon. I’ve decided that my eyebrows have recovered enough to venture out (obviously not on their own). I feel like one of those blokes who have been held in solitary in a cellar and come out into the daylight blinking.
We go to Costa Rico’s for cappuccino. I hate cappuccino but everyone drinks it so you can’t say no. I haven’t been out for weeks—well, five days. Town looks great. Like New York . . . but without the skyscrapers and Americans. We decide we’ll have the meeting and then go and sneak a look at the boy that Jas likes, Tom. He works in Jennings’. I said, “What, the grocer’s?”
Jas said, “It’s a greengrocer-cum-delicatessen,” and I said, “Yes, well it sells hummus.” And she said, “And yogurt,” and I said, “Quel dommage, I forgot the yogurt. Yes, it’s like going to Paris going into that shop, apart from the turnips.”
Jas sort of went red, so I thought I would shut up. Jas doesn’t get angry very often but she has a hefty kick.
Jools said, “Shall we talk beret plan?” At our stupid school you have to wear a beret with your outdoor uniform. It’s a real pain because, as we know, everyone—and especially the French, who invented it—looks like a stupid prat in a beret. And they flatten your hair. Last term we perfected a Way of wearing it like a pancake. You flatten it out and then pin it with hair grips right at the back of your head. Still a pain, but you can’t see it from the front. Ellen said she had made up a different method, called “the sausage.” She showed us how to do it. She rolled her beret up really tight like a little sausage and then pinned it with hair grips right at the back in the center of her head. You could hardly see it at all. It was brilliant. We decided to instigate Operation Sausage at the beginning of the term.
It has been a constant battle about these berets. The so-called grown-ups will not negotiate with us. We sent a deputation to the headmistress, Slim (so-called because she weighs twenty-five stone . . . at least. Her feet cascade out of her shoes). At the deputation we asked why we had to wear berets. She said it was to keep standards up, and to enhance the image of the school in the community. I said, “But the boys from Foxwood call out, ‘Have you got any onions?’ I don’t think they do respect us, I think they make a mock and a sham of us.”
Slim shook herself. It was a sort of habit that she had when she was irritated with us (i.e., all the time). It made her look like a jelly with shoes on.
“Georgia, you have had my last word on this. Berets are to be worn to and from school. Why not think about something a bit more important, like perhaps getting less than twenty-one poor conduct marks next term?”
Oh, go on, play the old record again. Just because I am lively.
We did have another campaign last year, which was If You Want Us to Wear Our Berets, Let’s Really Wear Our Berets.
This involved the whole of our class pulling their berets right down over their heads with just their ears showing. It was very stunning, seeing one hundred girls at the bus stop with just their ears showing. We stopped eventually (even though it really infuriated Slim and Hawkeye) because it was terribly hot and you couldn’t see where you were going and it played havoc with your hair.
Beret meeting over and time for boy-stalking. Jas was a bit nervous about us all going into the shop. She’s not actually spoken to Tom—well, apart from saying, “Two pounds of greens.”
We decided that we’d lurk casually outside and then, when she went in to be served, we’d sort of accidentally spot her and pop into the shop and say “Hi.” This would be casual and give us the chance to give him the once-over and also give the (wrong) impression that Jas is a very popular person.
Jas popped to the loo to make herself look natural with concealer, etc. Then she went into Jennings’. I gave it five minutes and then I was the first one to walk by the shop doorway. Jas was talking to a tall, dark-haired boy in black jeans. He was smiling as he handed over some onions. Jas was a bit flushed and was twiddling with her fringe. It was a very irritating habit she had. Anyway, I stopped in my tracks and said in a tone of delight and surprise (which convinced even me), “Jas! Hi! What are you doing here?” And I gave her a really warm hug (managing to say in her ear, “Leave your bloody fringe alone!”).
When I stopped hugging her she said, “Hi, Georgie, I was just buying some onions,” and I laughed and said, “Well, you know your onions, don’t you, Jas?”
Then Ellen and Jools came in with arms outstretched and shrieking with excitement, “Jas! Jas! How lovely! Gosh, we haven’t seen you for ages. How are you?”
Meanwhile, the boy Tom stood there. Jas said to him, “Oh, I’m really sorry to keep you waiting,” and he just went, “It’s cool,” and Jas asked him how much she owed him and then she said, “‘Bye then, thanks,” and he said, “See you later.” And we were outside. When we got a few meters away we didn’t say anything but sort of spontaneously all started running as fast as we could and laughing.
7:00 p.m.
Just spoke to Jas on the phone. She thinks Tom is even more gorgeous but she doesn’t know whether he likes her, so we have to go through the whole thing.
I could hear Jas’s dad in the background, saying, “If you are seeing each other tomorrow, can’t you wait and not add to my phone bill?”
Parents are all the same—all skinflints. Anyway, Jas said, “He said, ‘See you later.’”
I agreed but added thoughtfully, “But he might say that to everyone, like a sort of ‘See you later’ sort of thing.”
That upset her. “You mean you don’t think he likes me?”
I said, “I didn’t say that. He might never say ‘See you later’ unless he means, ‘See you later.”’
That cheered her up. “So you think he might mean ‘See you later,’ then?”
I said, “Yes.”
She was quiet for a bit; I could hear her chewing her chewing gum. Then she started again. “When is ‘later,’ though?”
Honestly, we could be here all night. I said, “Jas, I DON’T KNOW. Why don’t you decide when ‘later’ is?”
She stopped chewing then. “You mean I should ask him out?”
I could see my book sort of beckoning to me, saying, “Come and read me, come and read me, you know you want to.” So I was firm but fair. “It’s up to you, Jas, but I know what Sharon Stone would do. Good night.”
saturday september 5th
10:00 a.m.
Same bat time. Same bat place.
10:15 a.m.
Jas called. She wants to launch Operation Get Tom. We’re going to go to Costa’s for more detailed planning.
10:30 a.m.
Lalalalala. Life is so fab. Lalala. I even managed to put mascara on without sticking the brush in my eye. Also I tried out my new lipliner and I think the effect definitely makes my nose look smaller. In a rare moment I shared my nose anxiety with Mum. She said, “We used to use ‘shaders.’ You know, light highlights and darker bits to create shadow—you could put a light line of foundation down the middle and then darker bits at the sides to sort of narrow it down.” Wrong answer, Mum. The correct answer is “You are gorgeous, Georgia, and there is nothing wrong with your nose.”
I didn’t say that. I didn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead I said, through some toast so I could deny it if I had to, “Mum, I don’t want to look like you and your friends did, I’ve seen the photos and no one wants to look like Abba anymore.”