"Jas!" Georgia wailed. "Jas! My best pallie! How could you do this to me?"
Jas and Rosie looked on with a mixture of sympatheticnosity and horror.
"Do what to you?" Jas asked. "Not tell you? Well, I just didn't want you to wind up like…."
"NO! You introduce me to a SEX GOD," Georgia blew her nose on yet another tissue. "He is stolen from me by sheep and kiwis, and then taken further from my cradle of love by some mad," sniff, "old," snark, "WOMAN!"
The doorbell downstairs rang. Jas blushed and excused herself from her room.
Rosie looked at Georgia and then whispered: "Where are the letters to Po?"
"In that box," Georgia sobbed. "The queer-looking one with paint and Jas's n-n-name on it."
"Brilliant," Rosie tore it open and began to read.
Just then the door burst open again and in came the Ace-Gang, carrying much chocolate and concerned faces. Rosie had retreated into the crowd to stuff a letter down her shirt and toss the rest back into Jas's frilly, pink box. Georgia was immediately engulfed in sobbing comrades. The ordeal ended with a romantic movie and more chocolate. Georgia, sniffling, thanked her friends and then realized something.
"Wait, how did you all know about this?"
"Oh Gee," Mabbs sighed. "Jas can't keep a secret any better than you can hide your red-bottom."
"There's a simile even the Bird of Avon would be proud of." Jools nodded sagely.
An hour later, Georgia went home, face tear-streaked but heart considerably lightened.
"Why do you hate me Lord Buddha or God? What have I done wrong? You gave me my great, red bottom and you have made me exploit it!" Georgia shook her fist at the skies. "And all for nothing! This is the last straw! I am becoming a… oooh… a… what's-it." Georgia ran into the house past her parents, who were blathering as usual and grabbed the phone.
"See? She barges right in without so much as a hello and goes to the phone," Mr. Nicolson shook his head, which caused his second chin to wobble unattractively. "We're nothing more than a free hotel service for her."
You'd do well to remember that, you old coot. Georgia made a face at her father and dialed Jas's number.
"Hello?"
"Jas. What's that word?"
"What word?"
"The word for someone who doesn't believe in God?"
"An atheist?"
"That's it." And Georgia slammed down the phone and ran back out the door to finish her sentiments to the sky. "I WILL BECOME AN ATHIEST! HAHA!" She turned back into the house and was suddenly pinned down by a great, pink something.
"Gingey! I'm going to go surfing in the U.F.O.!" Libby stood bare-bottomed on top of Georgia, moving around and pretending to surf.
"I think you mean U.S.A."
"Hush! Bad surf boy! Bad!"
"Mum!" Georgia squealed. "I can't take this right now!"
To Georgia's surprise, her mother came in clucking her tongue and pulling Libby off of her.
"I'm so sorry to hear about… things." Her mother muttered softly.
"What?"
"Oh, Jas's mum told me."
"What?"
"It's quite all right, dear, it happens to the best of us."
"How would you know? You're not the best of us! I'm not even the best of us! I'm the worst of us! And the worst of us hates the world!" Georgia stood and ran wailing to her bedroom and slammed the door. "I hate you God!" She frowned. "I mean… No-God!"
"We should go and get her," Dave said, looking up at Georgia's window. "I mean, we all need a little Georgia."
"She says she doesn't want to leave her house," Jas said, twirling her fringe around her finger.
"You know that means she wants us to beg her to leave."
"Of course. But I never cater to that. Besides, look where we are. Right outside of her window. Obviously she wants us to demean ourselves for her amusement."
"A fine friend you are. Let's go serve her some plotting."
"Plotting?" Rosie looked intrigued. "What sort of plotting are we plotting?"
"A plotful plot full of plotty goodness." Dave wiggled his eyebrows.
"Lost," Tom and Sven chimed.
"Oh, let's say it involves a plane, some espionage and a bit of irrational dancing."
The window finally burst open and Georgia stuck her head out. "Irrational dancing?"
"Oh yes, ma chérie, much irrational dancing indeed!" Dave stuck his arms out and demonstrated.
"Jah!" Sven started doing some odd sort of Russian jig.
"Sven!" Rosie grabbed his shoulders to get him to hold still. "The plan involves irrational dancing, not the delivery of the plan."
"Hokey-pokey."
"Sven…." Rosie laughed.
Sven, Rosie, Dave, Jas and Tom tramped into Georgia's bedroom and thus began one of the greatest planning of all times.
Second only to Napoleon's planning.
Well, probably more twenty-second because there were a great deal of talented people who weren't them.
The plan took shape like a cloud, only, more gassy and less liquidy, since it mostly consisted of words. But you can't know the plan yet. No. It's still being properly formulated and even Libby and Angus were banned from the bedroom for this plotting. And even Non-God was. And Buddha. And God.
(A/N: I should update soonish. Maybe. Possibly. If anyone reads this I'll be astounded because I've taken so long to update peevish blush)
