‘… and that’s when it fell off in my hand.’. Louise Rennison
all snuggled down at the back. RoRo was knitting something for the teenage werewolf party. I think it might be a full-length beard. Jools was doing her cuticles and Jas was reading her wilderness manual. She loves it because it has lots of photos of girlie swots building incomprehensible things out of twigs. Anyway, time to read my letter. Miss Wilson was beginning to ramble on about “world peace” and asking us for our views. I didn’t want to have to answer anything, I just wanted her to soothingly write stuff on the board or rave on. So I put my hand up. That startled her. I said, “Miss Wilson, I have been very troubled in my mind.”
That started Rosie off in uncontrollable sniggering. Miss Wilson looked at me through her owly glasses. She is the most strangely put together person I have ever come across. Where does she get her clothes from? Did you know that you could get dresses made out of red felt with matching booties for grown-ups? She has clearly been to the circus shop that Slim buys her wrinkly elephant-tights from.
Anyway, Miss Wilson was vair vair interested in my troubled mind.
“Is it something of a theological nature, Georgia?”
“Yes indeedy, Miss Wilson. This is what is troubling me. If God is, you know, impotent…”
Miss Wilson went sensationally red, so now her head matched her booties.
“Well… er… Georgia, erm, impotent means not being able to have any children… I rather think you mean omnipotent.”
“Whatever. Well, if He is, does that mean that He is with you even when you are in the lavatory?”
Miss Wilson started rambling on about God not being really a bloke like other geezers but more of a spiritual whatsit. Hmmm. She has a very soothing manner. Jools had finished her cuticles and was having a little zizz on her pencil case.
I opened my letter with trembly hands. I wondered how long it would take me to fly to Kiwi-agogo land.
Dear Georgia,
Sorry it has taken me S0 long to write to you but it has been full-on since I got here. The countryside around here is fantastic, it’s all formed from volcanic activity. There are volcanoes near here that are still live and there is a lot of geothermal activity.
Yesterday when we were eating our lunch outside, the table was heaving and lurching about. That’s because the molten steam trapped beneath the Earth’s crust makes the ground move and shake around. It was amazing! The sheep were going backwards and forwards, and the trees were going up and down. There are bore fields around the whole area where they tap the steam and make electricity out of it. The lads took me to see a rogue bore called Old Faithful that explodes every fifteen minutes.
Rogue bore? He could have stayed here and just sat still in our school for a few minutes; it’s full of rogue bores. Sadly, they do not explode.
And that is all the letter was about, just loads and loads of stuff about vegetables and sheep and lurching tables. Not one thing about missing me.
I couldn’t believe it.
At the end, it said,
Well, I must go, some of the guys are going down to the river. It has natural hot springs that run through it. We go down there at night and lie in it playing our guitars.
He was going down to a river and he was going to lie in it.
That was the big nightspot.
I wrote a note to Jas.
Jas,
SG just talked about opossums and rogue bores and a river and then at the end he said, “I hope you are well and happy. You’re a great girl. Gidday. Robbie x”
One measly kiss.
11:00 am
After RE I was in a state of shock. I could hardly eat my cheesy snacks. We sat on the knicker toaster in the Blodge lab and the Ace Gang had a look at the letter.
Jas said, “Well, he said you were a great girl.”
I just looked at her.
“And it’s really interesting about the molten steam and the geothermal… stuff.”
I just looked at her again.
Rosie said, “Forget him, he’s obsessed with marsupials. When he comes back he’ll be playing a didgeridoo and be like Rolf Harris. Move on.”
4:15 p.m.
Walking home with Jas. I said to her, “I cannot believe my life. I’ve kept reading SG’s letter over and over but it still rambles on about steam and vegetables.”
Jas looked thoughtful (crikey) and then she said something almost bordering on the very nearly not mad. She said, “Maybe it’s in code.”
“In code?”
“Yes, so that, erm, the customs people, or say it fell into the wrong hands, like your mum and dad… well, so that they couldn’t tell what he had really written.”
I gave her a hug. “Jas, I am sorry that I ever doubted your sanity. You are a genius of the first water.”
In my room 4:45 p.m.
So let’s see.
5:30 p.m.
If I underline every fourth word, that might work.
6:00 p.m.
I think I have got it! Phoned Jas.
“Jas, I think I’ve got it.”
“Go on then.”
“OK. It’s sort of in shorthand even when it is decoded but… anyway… this is what it says:
‘Dear Georgia. Me, you fantastic. When we were heaving and lurching about it was amazing. Me explodes every fifteen minutes. At night me in it playing you. You’re great. Love Robbie.’”
There was a silence. Then Jas said, “Did you say, ‘me explodes every fifteen minutes’?” “Yes… keen, isn’t he?”
In bed 7:00 p.m.
It wasn’t in code. It was just a really, really crap letter.
Nothing can be worse than how I feel now.
7:30 p.m.
Wrong. I cannot believe my vati. He has sold our normal(ish) car and bought a Robin Reliant. You know, one of those really really sad cars that only the very mad buy? It has got three wheels. It is a three-wheeled car. I shouted down to Vati, “Why?”
He was all preened-up and dadish.
He shouted back up, “It’s an antique.”
I tried logic with him. “Vati, sometimes antiques are interesting – the crown jewels, for instance, they interest me – but this is just a really old crap car that only has three wheels.”
He was polishing it. It’s red and it has a racing strip.
Vati said, “Hop in and I’ll take you fora spin.” As if.
Dad started rustling around