We say goodbye to Antonio and go back into the underwater corridor. This time, Noah doesn’t put the light on immediately.
“I sure am glad I got to go on a Magical Mystery Tour with you, Penny,” he says so quietly I can barely hear him.
“I’m glad too,” I whisper back.
Then, as he reaches past me to turn the light on, his hand brushes against mine. And although it’s the slightest of touches, like throwing a pebble into a pond, the tingling it causes ripples throughout my entire body.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When we step out into the cold daylight, it’s like being woken suddenly from a deep sleep. I squint and rub my eyes at the pale winter light. I look at Noah and he looks at me. Everything feels different. Like we went into the old warehouse two completely separate people and came out with an invisible bond between us. He smiles at me.
“Do you wanna go someplace else?”
Just as I nod, his phone starts to ring. He takes it from his pocket. “It’s Sadie Lee,” he says to me before taking the call. “Hey, G-ma! Yes, all good. Why, what’s up? Ah, OK. No problem, see you soon.” He ends the call and sighs.
“Is everything OK?” I ask with a definite sinking feeling.
“Yeah. But they want us to come back. Your mum wants to see the tiara and Sadie Lee needs me to take her to go pick up Bella from nursery.” He scuffs his foot on the floor. “Can I see you again before you go home? How long are you here for?”
“Just till Sunday.” I feel full of dread. Tomorrow I’ll be busy all day and night with the wedding, and our flight leaves early on Sunday morning. I won’t have time to see him again.
“When on Sunday?”
“First thing in the morning.” I look down at the ground.
“No way! So this is it?”
I nod. But my head is full of angry questions. How can this be it? How have I met someone so funny and kind and right for me and only be able to spend a day with him? This is so unfair.
“Well then, I’m gonna have to look into coming over to the UK for my next vacation,” Noah says with a grin.
It takes every muscle in my face to smile back at him. We trudge over to the truck and get in.
All the way back to the hotel I feel numb with sorrow and disappointment. On the surface, everything is OK. Noah does his running commentary of driving directions and we exchange small talk, but all I can think is, this is so unfair.
By the time we’re back in the underground car park at the hotel, I feel as if I’m going to burst into tears.
“Do you know what an inciting incident is?” Noah says as he turns off the engine.
I shake my head.
“It’s the point at the start of a movie where something happens to the hero that changes their life forever. You’ve seen Harry Potter, right?”
I nod.
“Well, the inciting incident in that movie is when Hagrid tells Harry Potter he’ll be a great wizard someday and gives him the invite to Hogwarts.”
“Oh, right.”
Noah looks down in his lap, like he’s embarrassed. “I think that’s what you might be to me.”
“What? A wizard?”
“No! My inciting incident.”
I glance at him. In the half-light of the car park, his cheekbones look even more chiseled than ever. “What do you mean?” I ask, hardly daring to believe what I think he means.
“I mean, I think this might be the start of something.”
We sit in silence.
“I think you might be my inciting incident too,” I say with a small smile.
• • •
When we get back up to the wedding suite, I’m amazed Mum and Sadie Lee can’t immediately tell something’s happened. I feel so excited and alive; I’m surprised I’m not glowing like one of the fish in the underwater mural. But they’re both too busy putting the finishing touches on the wedding cake—a fondant husband and wife, dressed in twenties-style clothes.
“Elliot and Dad are back,” Mum says. “They’re up in their rooms.”
“OK.” I look at Noah and he looks at me and it feels as if an electrical current is passing between us.
“Are you ready to take me to fetch Bella?” Sadie Lee asks Noah. I feel a pang of sorrow at the thought of him leaving, but it’s softened by another thought: we are each other’s inciting incidents. This means I have to see him again.
“OK then,” Noah says, giving me a knowing smile. “It sure has been fun hanging out with you.”
“You too.” I instantly feel my face blush.
He brings his arms up as if he’s going to hug me, but for some completely ridiculous reason, known only to the God of Awkward Moments, I go to fist-bump him. I’ve never fist-bumped anyone in my life.
“Oh!” Noah sees my raised fist and quickly meets it with one of his own. Then he grips my hand in his and pulls me in for a gangsta-style shoulder-bump. “I’ll call you later,” he whispers in my ear.
I nod, hoping he won’t notice my burning face.
And then he and Sadie Lee are gone. Before I have time to show the tiara to Mum, her phone rings.
“Hi, Cindy,” she says, raising her eyebrows to me.
“Here’s the tiara,” I mouth, placing the box down on the kitchen counter. “I’m going up to my room.”
Mum nods and I walk back out through the wedding suite. By the time I get to the elevator, I have a text from Noah.
Thank you for an awesome day. Speak to you later. N
I quickly start texting him back.
Thank YOU xxx
I look at the text and frown. Three kisses is way too many. Especially when he didn’t send me any. I delete the kisses. Now the text looks really blunt and unfriendly. I add a smiley-faced emoticon. But it looks too immature. Maybe if I did a winky face . . . ? No, no, that looks way too suggestive. I delete the winky face and add a P for Penny. Now it looks like I’m copying exactly what he did. I need to show that I have some kind of originality and flair. Three lifts come and go, but I’m still standing there, typing and deleting, typing and deleting. How can I create an original and mature impression without seeming too keen or too formal? In the end, I go with: “Thank YOU, Penny” and I add a thumbs-up emoticon. Which seemed like a great idea until the moment I pressed send.
• • •
As soon as I get to my room, I go straight over to the adjoining door.
“Elliot, are you in there?”
I open the door. Elliot is lying facedown on his bed, fast asleep. I carefully shut the door and go over to my own bed. Then I lie down and stare up at the ceiling. I want to savor this feeling for as long as I can. I close my eyes and hug one of my pillows to me as I replay every moment of the day in my head. Thank you, thank you, thank you, I whisper to the God of Inciting Incidents.
Then, when I realize I’m far too excited to fall asleep, I go over to my suitcase and pull out my laptop. Carefully avoiding my email and social networks, I go straight to my blog and sign in. There are now over four hundreds comments on my post about facing fear. I “like” them all and reply to the girl who’d been scared of her mum’s drinking. Then I open up a new post and start to type.
22 December
From Fear to Fairy Tale
Hey, guys!
Wow, you are all so amazing. I’ve just been reading your comments on my last post and they’re making me cry—but in a really good way.
I used to feel so alone before I started this blog. I used to feel like no one really understood me (apart from Wiki, of course). But reading your comments has made me realize that actually hundreds—and maybe even thousands (!)—of you totally get me.
And that makes me feel so happy.
And un-alone (is “un-alone” a word . . . ?!).
And that, actually, even though I sometimes feel as if I’m the only person who struggles with this thing called “life,” I’m not.
Thank you for being so honest about your fears—and so brave in facing them.
And please keep posting your updates because I’m sure they’ll help everyone reading this to face their own fears too.
But, guys . . . something has happened to me since I faced my fear and got on a plane.
Something truly amazing.
And I want to share it with you because the Glass Slipper Moment I was telling you about has actually come true.
Not in the way I thought it would—never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined things turning out the way they have!
Because what happened next has made me wonder if maybe when you confront your worst fear, you enter some kind of magical parallel universe where all kinds of things are possible—because I’ve met a boy.
A boy that I really like.
And I think he really likes me!
And for all the new followers of this blog (thank you, by the way!!) you might want to check out my previous posts Disastrous and Dateless and Pothole of Doom to see that this kind of thing doesn’t happen to me. Ever!
I’m the kind of girl who falls into holes and starts jibbering like a nervous wreck in front of boys. They never like me—not like like me.
They only ever want to be my friend. Or give me Chinese burns. Or make fun of me.
But this morning I met a boy who seems to like like me (I’m going to call him Brooklyn Boy). And it feels amazing because I haven’t had to pretend to be something I’m not. I haven’t had to try to be cool. I’ve totally been myself—and he still likes me.
Earlier today I was in a car with Brooklyn Boy and I started getting anxious again—in front of him.
But he didn’t think I was a freak. In fact, he was really lovely and he gave me some really cool advice that I want to share with you.
First of all, he told me that time is a great healer and that nothing lasts forever, not even the very worst things. And he should know because he lost two of the people closest to him a few years ago.
He also told me that when he lost those people, it made him get really anxious about losing the other people he loved. In the end he went to see a counselor who gave him an exercise to do whenever he started getting fearful.
Basically, it’s that whenever you get fearful or anxious you shouldn’t fight it. You should just . . . watch it in your body.
So, if your fear is making you feel all tense in your head, or sick in your stomach, or tight in your chest, you have to picture it as an actual shape and give it a color. And then just think to yourself that it’s OK to feel anxious and just allow it to be and it will start to fade away.
I haven’t tried it myself yet but Brooklyn Boy says it really helped him.
So, for all of you who posted about feeling anxious about different things, why don’t you try it yourself next time you feel that way? And I will too and then we can report back here on the blog.
I don’t know what the future is going to hold for me and Brooklyn Boy—I’m only here for another day—boo!
But I feel like something really special has happened between us.
And so I can’t believe that this is it. That I’ll never see him again.
Charming didn’t give up on Cinderella, did he? He kept on searching and searching until he was reunited with her and her slipper.
Because when you find someone who really likes you for you, and you really like them for them, you have to do all you can to not lose them.
I love you guys so much and I’m so grateful for all of your support.
Keep posting about facing your fears—and keep believing in fairy tales.
Girl Online, going offline xxx
Chapter Twenty-Three
“What, in the name of Godzilla, have you been up to?”
I open my eyes to see Elliot staring down at me through a pair of glasses with stars-and-stripes frames.
“What time is it?” I mumble, looking over to the window. It’s now dark outside and the New York skyline is twinkling away like the window of a jeweler’s shop. I must have slept away the whole rest of the afternoon.
“Time you told me what the hell you’ve been up to.” Elliot plonks himself down on my bed. “Who is Brooklyn Boy?”
“Oh.” I look at my laptop on the pillow next to me and everything comes back. Elliot must have read my blog post.
“I met him earlier. His grandma is doing the catering for the wedding.”
“What, and now you’re in love?”
“No, I . . .”
Elliot takes his phone from his pocket and starts reading from it. “ ‘Because when you find someone who really likes you for you, and you really like them for them, you have to do all you can not to lose them.’ ”
I cringe. It feels so over-the-top now that Elliot’s reading it in his most sarcastic voice. It also feels kind of unreal now that I’ve had a sleep, like maybe I dreamed the whole thing.
“Have you been drinking?” Elliot looks at me over the top of his glasses like a very stern doctor.
“No!”
“Brainwashed by a crazed cult?”
“No!”
“Then how can you be in love with this guy if you only just met him?”
“I’m not in love with him.” Disappointment starts seeping through my body like an icy fog. “We spent most of the day together and we really connected.” Oh God, now I sound like a gushing Hollywood actress being interviewed on Oprah.
Elliot frowns so hard I think his glasses might fall off. “You really connected?”
“Yes. We have a lot in common.”
“So, how old is he?”
“Eighteen.”
“Where does he go to college?”
“He doesn’t.”
“Oh, so what does he do?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. I think he’s on a gap year.” I’m beginning to feel like I’m being cross-examined by one of Elliot’s lawyer parents.
“Right, so you’ve met your soul mate but you didn’t actually find out what he does.”
“I was only with him for a few hours.”
Elliot gives me a knowing smile. He’s starting to really wind me up now—why’s he being so mean? And to think I’d been looking forward to telling him all about Noah.
“We didn’t really bother with small talk,” I continue.
“Oh, really. So do your parents know about this?”
“No! There’s nothing to know.” I look at Elliot in alarm—he’d better not tell them.
“How can you say there’s nothing to know when you’ve put it all over the Internet?”
I sit up straight in bed and glare at him. “I haven’t put it all over the Internet. I blogged about it, that’s all. I thought it might help people facing their fears. He gave me some really good advice.”
Elliot glares back at me. “What about how I helped you on the plane? Why didn’t you blog about that?”
Suddenly, the truth dawns on me. Elliot’s jealous because he didn’t get a mention. “Oh, Elliot, I’m always blogging about you. What about the time you helped me pick a dress for the school prom? And the day you told me top-ten ways to style out a fall. I blogged about them, didn’t I?”
But Elliot just stares sulkily at the bed. “I can’t believe you blogged about him before telling me,” he mutters. “If I’d met someone who liked me for me, I’d have totally told you first.”
Now I feel really bad. I lean forward and touch him on the arm. “I did try to tell you. I’ve been dying to talk to you about it all day, but when I got back up here you were asleep.”
Elliot looks at me. “You could have woken me. And you could have returned my call earlier.”
“I’m sorry.” I feel heavy with disappointment now. “There’s no point getting all moody about it—I’ll probably never see him again.”
There’s a long, awkward silence and then Elliot places his hand over mine. “I’m sorry. It was just that when I got your blog update it made me feel a bit weird—a bit left out.”
“I could never leave you out of anything. You’re my best friend.
” I pull Elliot into a hug.
Although Elliot and I have patched things up, I can’t help but feel slightly dejected. I so wanted to be able to talk through everything with him, to relive my magical day all over again, but how can I if it’s going to make him upset? Before either of us can say anything, there’s a knock on the door.
“Hey, daughter of mine,” Dad yells in a fake American accent even worse than Ollie’s. “D’ya wanna go eat?”
• • •
Dinner should have been really fun. We ended up going to Chinatown, to this restaurant called The Cheery Chopsticks, where the waiting staff were like pantomime actors. Everything they did was a grand performance, from the way they helped us off with our coats to the way they delivered the food to our table. But I couldn’t relax. Although Elliot was pretty much back to his normal self and Mum finally seemed relaxed about the wedding and actually looking forward to the big day, all I could think was, I shouldn’t have blogged about Noah. Elliot’s reaction had totally unnerved me. He’s never been negative about a blog I’ve posted in the whole time I’ve been writing Girl Online. Maybe it was really over-the-top and silly to write what I did. Maybe I read way too much into what happened with Noah. Maybe I just imagined the connection between us.
By the time we get back to the hotel, I’m determined to delete the post as soon as I get to my room. With every step we take along the plushly carpeted corridor, all I can think is, Delete, delete, delete.
“What’s that outside your room, Pen?” Mum says.
Delete, delete, delete. “What?”
“Did you order some room service?” Dad asks.
“Pretty weird room service,” Elliot mutters.
I look up and see a brown cardboard box on the floor by my door.
“Uh-oh! You don’t think it’s a bomb, do you?” Elliot says, looking at us all with wide eyes.
I frown at him. “Why would someone put a bomb outside my room?”
Elliot shrugs. “I don’t know. They might not be targeting you directly. They might have just chosen a room at random.”