Girl Online (24 page)

“I know one of my parents’ Christmas-ready meals on a tray won’t be the same as one of your dad’s epic feasts,” Elliot says, turning to me, “but then you won’t be having one of your dad’s epic feasts this year anyway, will you? You’ll be having a hotel Christmas dinner.”

“But—” I begin.

“We won’t be spending Christmas at the hotel,” Mum says gently. “We’re going to be staying at Sadie Lee’s.”

Elliot’s eyes widen. “Sadie Lee’s?”

“Yes,” Mum replies, “the woman who did the catering
for the wedding. She’s invited us to spend Christmas at her house.”

“Oh. I see,” Elliot says flatly.

“And we really want Penny with us,” Dad says softly.

“Yes, it’ll be bad enough having Christmas without Tom,” Mum adds.

I feel a surge of relief. Now I don’t have to tell Elliot I don’t want to go home with him; I can blame my parents.

“That’s OK, I understand,” Elliot says quietly.

“We’ll only be staying a week,” I say.

“Eight days,” Elliot says quickly.

“OK, eight days. I can Skype with you.”

“Are you sure you won’t be too busy?” Elliot mutters.

“Hey, it’s our song!” Dad cries as “When a Man Loves a Woman” starts playing. He leaps to his feet and holds out his hand to Mum. “Madam, would you do me the honor?”

“Why, I would be delighted,” Mum cries, taking his hand.

As I watch them head back to the dance floor, I smile. It’s weird because recently their public displays of affection had been making me feel really wistful, like they were members of an exclusive Couples Club I’d never be able to join. But now watching them reminds me of Noah and it makes me feel all warm inside.

“I suppose I’d better go and start packing,” Elliot says, breaking my trance.

“I’ll help you,” I say, desperate to say something,
anything
, to make Elliot feel better. “We could have a midnight feast if you like? I have a parcel of picnic food.”

“I have no appetite,” Elliot says.

“Not even for chocolate-covered strawberries?”

“He brought you chocolate-covered strawberries?”

I nod nervously, unsure of what kind of response this will get given the mood Elliot’s in.

“Seriously, does this guy have any flaws?”

“I’m sure he has tons,” I say, although I’m not sure of that at all.

“Hmm. All right, come on then.”

• • •

It’s not until we’ve gotten Elliot’s case packed that his mood finally starts to lift.

“I’m sorry,” he says, flopping down on his bed. “I was just so disappointed not to be spending Christmas with you guys. But I suppose it’s for the best that I’ve got to go home; I’d only be a big fat gooseberry if I stayed.”

“No you wouldn’t.” I sit down on the bed next to him. “Look, the fact is, Noah and I live about ten thousand miles apart—”

“Four thousand, actually.”

“OK, four thousand, but that’s still more than an entire ocean, so it’s not like this is going to affect our friendship at all. It’s just—just . . .”

“A holiday romance?” Elliot offers hopefully.

“Yes, a holiday romance.”

But as Elliot grins and nods, an unsettling thought occurs to me. This is the first time I’ve ever lied to him in all our years of friendship.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I once read a magazine article that said every dream has a hidden meaning. Like if you dream that you’re running up a hill but you never get to the top, it means that you’re stuck in some area of your life, and if you dream that your teeth are falling out it means that you’re feeling really insecure—or did that one mean that you’re pregnant . . . ? I can’t remember. Anyway, there are people, kind of like dream doctors, who will analyze your dream and tell you what the secret meaning is. As I wake up on Christmas Eve, I wonder what on earth a dream doctor would make of mine last night. Basically, I was trapped on a train with Megan and Ollie and every time we went through a station the train announcer would read out an embarrassing fact about me. So instead of saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving at . . .” he said things like, “Ladies and gentlemen, did you know that Penny Porter once flashed her knickers to the entire world?” And all the time Megan and Ollie just sat across the table from me, laughing their heads off. And every time I tried to get up to leave, they made me sit down. And then the chair I was sitting
on turned into a cake and I ended up getting chocolate icing all over my bum.

I sit up and turn on my bedside lamp. I hate dreams. I hate the way you can forget all about the things and people that have hurt you, but then a dream brings them flooding back. I pick up the china doll from the pillow next to me and hug her. It feels so weird to be thinking of Megan and Ollie again.

I get the sudden urge to check Facebook and YouTube to see if people are still talking about the video. Then thankfully I have a reality check. Why would I do that to myself? Especially as I’ve done so well since I got here, putting all of that to the back of my mind. I look around my room and feel a pang of sorrow. It’s my last morning in the Waldorf Astoria. It probably sounds weird to say this but I feel so attached to this room. This was where my life became like a fairy tale. This was where I finally realized that I can actually control what happens to me. I decide to take some photos of it so that I can treasure the memories forever.

First, I take a picture of my unmade bed, with my doll sitting perched on top of a pile of pillows. Then I take a picture of the whole room from various different angles. Then finally I take some shots of the view from the window and one of the chair with the blanket draped over it, to remind me of the night I spoke to Noah on the phone and the moon turned orange. By the time I’ve finished, I feel way better. It’s as if looking at the room through my camera has, literally, helped me to refocus. Megan and Ollie, the play . . . everything that happened is in the past. I need to keep focused on the present, and that means New York and Noah.

As my excitement starts to build, I feel the urge to dance. I grab the remote and turn on the TV. MTV is playing nonstop Christmas tunes. I start dancing around the room to “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” I dance and dance until I’ve shaken off the horrible residue from my dream. Then I collapse down onto my bed and grin at my doll.

“Happy Christmas,” I whisper to her breathlessly.

• • •

Thankfully, Elliot is back to his usual cheery self this morning.

“I’ve come up with a plan,” he whispers to me over the breakfast table, “a plan so dastardly that it would make the Riddler blush.”

“What is it?” I whisper back, pouring some maple syrup on my pancakes.

“It’s called Ten Ways to Ruin My Evil Parents’ Christmas,” he says with a glint in his eye. “By the time I’ve finished, they’re going to wish I was still here with you guys.”

I start to laugh. “What are you going to do?”

“Number one: tell them that I’ve decided to drop out of school and join a hippie commune. Number two: tell them that from now on I will only be answering to my new hippie name, Rain Water.”

By the time Elliot gets to number ten in his evil plan (“Tell them that I’ve got an American Hell’s Angel boyfriend called Hank”), we are both cracking up laughing. Mum and Dad, who’ve been busy talking about the plans for the party, are now staring at us.

“What’s so funny?” Dad says with a grin.

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Mum says.

“Trust me, you don’t,” I say, grinning at Elliot.

• • •

After breakfast, we leave our luggage with the hotel reception and take Elliot to the airport.

As the cab pulls into the terminal, I look at Elliot anxiously. “Will you be OK, flying on your own?”

He nods and grins. “Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to it. I think it will give me a real air of mystery. I can just imagine all the other passengers thinking to themselves, who is this young man, traveling alone? What could his story be?”

I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, well, you’ve certainly dressed for the part.” Elliot is wearing his favorite vintage suit, a dark grey pinstripe, with polished brogues and a pocket watch on a chain—and his New York Yankees cap. Somehow, he manages to make this look totally cool.

Elliot gives me a hug. “I’m gonna miss you, Pen-face.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.”

“Enjoy your holiday romance.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“No, seriously.” Elliot pulls back and looks at me. “You deserve to have some fun after everything you’ve been through lately.”

I feel myself start to well up. “Thank you.”

“And I’m going to be demanding
all
of the deets as soon as you get back.”

I laugh and nod. “OK.”

And then Elliot’s flight is called. I watch him striding through the gate with a weird mixture of sadness at him leaving, and excitement at what is to come.

“You OK?” Dad says, hugging me to him.

I nod.

“I just got a text from Sadie Lee,” Mum says. “She says to
tell you both that she’s just baked us a batch of brownies and we’re welcome to get there as soon as we like.”

I feel my own phone vibrate and my heart leaps at the sight of a new message from Noah.

Morning! Tell me, how good are your tree-decorating skills? N

Grinning, I quickly reply.

World-class. I’m actually Champion Bauble Hanger in my home town—three years running

Only three? Shame! I guess that’ll have to do. Hurry up and get here, Inciting Incident, Bella and I need your help

At first my mind goes blank when I see the name Bella, but then I remember—Noah has a sister.

• • •

In the taxi on the way to the airport, I’d been so focused on keeping Elliot’s spirits up, I hadn’t gotten anxious at all, but
going back to the hotel to pick up our luggage is a different story. By the time we pull into the Waldorf, I want to leap from the cab and walk all the way to Brooklyn. As I go into the hotel for one final look around the grand lobby, I tell myself to get a grip. “You can do this,” I tell myself. “You’re Ocean Strong.” But my superhero name doesn’t seem to have the same effect without Elliot here. I think of him sitting on his own on the plane and I feel a hollow ache. Then I remember the exercise Noah told me about.

“Ready, Pen?” Dad says, as he and a bellboy come over with our luggage piled up on a trolley.

I nod. “Yes.”

As soon as I get back in the cab, I try to picture where in my body I feel the most anxious. As usual, it’s the tightness in my throat. I close my eyes and try to picture it as a color and shape. I see a red fist clutching at my neck. At first it makes me feel even worse and I want to open my eyes but I force myself to take a deep breath and just allow it to be there. Nothing happens. The tension in my throat is still there; it hasn’t gotten any better—but it hasn’t gotten any worse either. I take another deep breath.
It’s OK
, I say to the image of the red fist.
I don’t mind you being there
. I take another breath. In the background, I can hear Mum and Dad chatting to the taxi driver but I’m so focused that I don’t hear what they’re saying. I try to picture the fist of tension again and this time it’s more pink than red. It’s a little bit smaller too.
It’s OK
, I say to it again. The rest of my body starts to relax. Now it just feels as if there’s a knot in my throat rather than a huge fist. I take another breath and it’s much easier this time.
It’s OK
, I keep saying over and over again inside my head.
It’s OK
. As
I keep focusing on the image of the knot, it fades until it’s snowy-white and then it completely disappears.