Withering Tights - By Louise Rennison Page 0,34

Ruby even made Matilda lift her paw up and look at me.

As if she was saying in dog language, “Please put the dress on, otherwise I may never eat another Bonio treat again.”

It was pathetic. But it worked, because in the end I agreed to at least try on the dress. I went behind the door. It was a bit tight getting it on.

I said, “It’s too small for me. I can’t lift my arms up.”

Vaisey said, “Come out and show us.”

Ruby said, “You’ve left your cardigan and jeans on.”

I said, “It’s all the rage.”

She said, “No, it’s not. You look like the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

I said, “I have to have them…on…in case I get cold.”

Ruby said, “Take them off. Now.”

In the end I went behind the door and took off my stuff and put on the dress. When I came out I could see myself in the mirror.

The dress came to mid-thigh. Which in normal legs would mean a third of the way down your leg. In my case, it meant that it was an eighth of the way down my leg.

No one actually said anything at first, they just looked at my legs – even Matilda.

Then Ruby said, “I think it looks brill.”

Vaisey was nodding.

Matilda was nodding too. But it may be fleas.

Then Ruby suddenly said, “Oy, you’re getting lady bumps!!! I can see ‘em.”

What what???

I put my arms over my front.

“Oooooh, give us a look.”

I said, “I’m not a horse. You’ll be feeling my fetlocks in a minute.”

In fact Ruby did try to feel them.

I wanted to skip around shouting, “I’ve got corkers!” But I didn’t, because Ruby would quite likely yell downstairs to her dad.

But I am deeply down secretly thrilled.

I am so very right to keep up my secret rubbing practices.

When we were ready I told Ruby, “No you cannot sneak out with us and sit in the back row, spying for a laugh.”

On our way out to catch the bus we passed Mr Barraclough in the bar combing the hair of one of his stuffed stags. He had given it a centre parting, which is not respectful of a noble breed. But I didn’t say.

He did glance up as we passed and said to Ruby, “Where’s the other big lad gone?”

And then he looked at me and said, “Oh, there you are.”

I said to Ruby, “It’s very hard to think that your dad, is, well, Alex’s dad. Alex not around then?”

Ruby rolled her eyes.

When we got to the bus stop Jo was there waiting for us. Hopping about. Which was a bit odd because she was also sitting on the wall.

She looked lovely. All shiny and dark. Mad, but shiny and dark also. She was wearing a wrapover top and a rough-cut denim skirt with wedgie shoes. And a lot of bangles and necklaces.

She said, “Do I look alright? Would you snog me?”

I said, “What? Now?”

And me and Ruby and Vaisey laughed.

But Jo wasn’t in a laughy mood.

She was in an ‘I’ve gone mad’ mood.

On and on. Is he too short? Am I too short? What is too short??

Ruby said, “Jo, if I were thee, I’d stick to smiling a lot. And shut your gob for the rest of the time. See thee later. Vaisey, make sure you tell me all about it.”

The bus came and we got on. And it was only then that I thought of something.

“What if they get on at the next stop? That’s where they got off last time. What if they get on and we have to do sitting down hello for the first time? How do you do sitting down hello?”

None of us knew, and then I thought of something worse.

“What if Phil’s mates are big hairy psychopaths? I saw a cartoon thing and a person on a plane was sitting down next to an empty seat, thinking ‘oh, good, I’ve got lots of room’ and behind him this massive one-eyed bloke with a trunk was shambling down the aisle towards the seat.”

Vaisey said, “Surely Phil might have mentioned if one of his mates had a trunk?”

Jo said, “Of course he would. Anyway, I think it’s the kind of thing you would notice when he said ‘my two mates’. You’d sort of know somehow if one of them had a trunk.”

I said, “Are you hiding something from us, Jo? Has Phil said something we don’t know about? Has he said ‘me and my mate and my other mate ‘Trunky’ are coming to the cinema’?”

In the end we