Withering Tights - By Louise Rennison Page 0,37

easy to talk to – if you like talking about what type of running shoes are best for cross-country. It was quite relaxing, just half-listening to him.

Then I heard Jack say the word ‘guitar’. And Vaisey’s head started nodding in agreement and she was talking as well. Must be about music.

How sweet. I think Jack’s a bit shy, but I think he likes Vaisey. Then they started singing together and Jack was making a drumming rhythm on his knees.

Phil was now tickling Jo, who was going mental. And screeching. So much so that Mrs Bottomly the driver yelled back, “Oy, stop playing silly beggars. This is a bloody bus, not a Mardi Gras!!”

Oooh, now Ben is telling me about how he does pull-ups because he’s a bit weak in the upper arm. And apparently upper-arm strength is a big plus when you want to join the Navy. And he does want to join the Navy.

He said, “When we do our cross-country runs I put bricks in my rucksack.”

Just to be nice, I said, “Crikey.”

The boys didn’t get off at their stop because Phil said, “We’ll escort you ladeez to your homes in case of carriages going by and sloshing your evening gowns.”

What is he talking about?

Phil said, “We’ve been doing Jane Austen at Woolfe, so we can get inside the female mind.”

I said, “What is inside our female minds, then?”

Phil said, “Well, for instance, should one of you want to climb up a staircase on the way home, we lads would have the training to quickly get behind you and walk up the stairs, bracing ourselves.”

I said, “Bracing yourselves for what?”

Phil winked, “Aaaa, bracing ourselves for the moment when you lost your footing, or fainted, and then we could catch you, saving you from injury.”

I said, “Why would we faint?”

And Phil said, “You might be startled by bats.”

And everyone laughed.

We said “goodnight” to the bus driver woman as we got off.

And she said, “Is it?”

I don’t think she likes people, as such.

As the bus careered into the distance, there was a bit of an awkward silence.

We were all still standing by the bus stop.

So I said to everyone, “Well, I’m off to my squirrel room. Thanks for the cinema, and the, um, Maltesers. It’s been, um, quite smashing.”

And I set off for the Dobbins’.

I’d gone about halfway when Ben came after me. “I’ll walk you to your gate, Tallulah.”

He looked up from under his floppy fringe and said, “I had a nice night, it was really interesting talking to you.”

There was more silence as we crossed the village green, so I said, “Um, do you like theatre as well as running and so on? Like we do at Dother Hall?”

He looked at me like I had spoken in ancient bee language. And repeated, “Theatre…”

I said, to lighten the moment, “Ms Beaver says it’s a harsh mistress and your feet bleed before you put on the golden slippers of applau—”

And I’d just got to “applause” when he put his hand on my shoulder and turned me round to face him.

I was about to take a piece of hair out of my mouth, because as he spun me round my hair went a bit wild. But he lunged at me, mouth first.

He put the whole of his mouth on mine. My eyes were open so I could see that he had his closed. His mouth seemed very big. In fact, I felt like I was being eaten. Even though no chewing was going on.

I had to breathe through my nose because he was blocking my mouth.

Then I felt a little proddy thing going in between my lips like it was trying to prise them open. Was there still a bit of hair in there?

Or maybe he had trapped his fringe.

It was very floppy and…

My goodness it must be his tongue.

What was I supposed to do?

The prodding was still going on. I had my teeth together because I was so tense.

The little jabby tongue thing started working its way along my toothline.

It prodded at the side of my mouth which was tickly, actually.

I don’t think laughing would go down well, though.

In fact, it was like being in Night of the Vampire Bats. There was a bit in the film where a bat flew into someone’s mouth, and you could see it barging around inside because the cheeks kept bulging out, and the bat’s little head popped out now and then.

Perhaps I should move my lips a bit.

Or perhaps now was the time to