“The surname for my alter ego is Strong.”
Elliot nods. “Ah, OK. Yes, that’s good. How about the first name?”
I think for a moment. How do I want my alter ego to make me feel apart from strong? Calm, I guess. But Calm Strong is a rubbish name. As I think of feeling calm, the image of the sea pops into my head. “Ocean!” I blurt out.
Elliot nods. “Ocean Strong. Hmm, yep, that could work.”
Ocean Strong. As I roll the name around in my head, I picture a comic-book superheroine wearing a skintight sea-green bodysuit and cape, with long auburn curly hair spilling over her shoulders. I am Ocean Strong, I tell myself, and, incredibly, it starts to work. My heart rate starts to slow back down to normal and my mouth doesn’t feel quite so dry. I am Ocean Strong. I picture my alter ego surfing a huge wave, calmly surveying the horizon while adopting a superhero stance.
Just at that point Mum and Dad get back to the table with the drinks.
“Everything OK?” Mum says, looking at me.
“Yes,” I reply, and I even manage a smile.
While Mum, Dad, and Elliot chat about New York and all the places they want to see, I focus on a breathing exercise Mum taught me and continue adding details to Ocean Strong in my mind. If Ocean Strong had to get on a plane she wouldn’t bat an eyelid. She’d just stride on board, head held high, gaze fixed straight ahead. If Ocean Strong had been in a car accident, she wouldn’t let it ruin the rest of her life; she’d be fearless and brave and keep on fighting evildoers. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, breaking my daydream; it’s a text from Megan.
Hi, Penny! Kira told me you’re going abroad for Christmas. Is it true? Can you get me some Chanel perfume in duty free? I’ll give you the money when you get back. Thanks xoxo
This is the first time I’ve heard from Megan all week. Even though I haven’t been to school since the play—she hasn’t bothered asking if I’m OK. Even Ollie sent me a message on Facebook to see if I was all right. There’s no apology about the video either, although she did take it down from her page.
I turn off my phone and put it in my bag. If Ocean Strong had an embarrassing video of her put online, what would she do? I picture my alter ego laughing it off before leaping on her surfboard and heading off in search of new adventure. And suddenly something weird happens—I start feeling really good about myself. Some rubbish things have happened to me recently but I haven’t let them beat me. And not only have I not let them beat me but I’m going off to New York to have an adventure. I might be clumsy and panicky and make some terrible underwear choices but what I’m about to do is actually pretty cool. I am pretty cool, because I am Ocean Strong.
Chapter Thirteen
Thankfully, all four of us are seated together in the middle section of the plane and I’m sandwiched in between Elliot and Dad. This instantly makes me feel safe but as soon as the plane engines start firing up I feel that horrible tightness start gripping at my throat.
“So, tell me more about Ocean Strong,” Elliot whispers in my ear.
“She’s got a really cool surfboard,” I say, gripping onto the armrests.
Elliot nods appreciatively. “That’s nice. I think she needs some kind of catchphrase too.”
The pilot’s voice comes over the PA system. “Flight attendants, prepare for take-off.” His voice is deep and clear, and reassuringly reminds me of Dad’s.
“What do you mean?” I say to Elliot.
“Well, like Batman says, ‘To the Batmobile, Robin,’ and Judge Dredd says, ‘I am the law.’ ”
“Oh. Right.”
The engines are screaming now and the plane starts to move.
I close my eyes and rack my brains for an Ocean Strong catchphrase.
“And the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles had ‘Cowabunga’ and Lobo has ‘Bite me, fanboy.’ ”
I open my eyes and glare at Elliot. “I am not having ‘Bite me, fanboy’ as my catchphrase!”
The plane starts hurtling down the runway. I get a flashback to our car screeching across the road in the rain and I hear Mum screaming. I turn to look at her but she’s chatting and smiling to Dad.
“How about ‘Here I come to save the day’?” Elliot asks.
“Whose catchphrase was that?”
“Mighty Mouse.”
I laugh. “Ocean Strong can’t have the same catchphrase as Mighty Mouse!”
“ ‘My spider-sense is tingling’?” Elliot suggests with a grin.
Now I’m laughing and scared all at once. The plane is tilting up into the air and the ground is sliding away.
“You OK?” Elliot whispers, placing his hand over mine.
I nod and grit my teeth. “Please can you keep telling me catchphrases to take my mind off it?”
Elliot’s eyes light up. “Of course!”
By the time the plane has stopped climbing, I know the catchphrases of every single superhero from Captain America to Wonder Woman to Wolverine.
“All right, Pen?” Dad says, looking at me anxiously.
I nod and smile, and think to myself that having Mum and Dad and Elliot makes me the luckiest girl alive . . . as long as we make it through this flight alive.
Elliot turns out to be the best flight companion ever. He just talks and talks for the whole six hours. Even when we watch a movie together, he provides a hilarious running commentary all the way through. And at the odd moments where I feel myself starting to get anxious, like when the seat-belt sign pings on when we hit a spot of turbulence, I just focus on my breathing and conjure up the image of Ocean Strong in my head.
As the flight attendants prepare for landing, I feel a shiver of excitement mixed in with my fear. As the plane descends, the people in the window seats start peering out but I stay staring straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of me. I am strong just like the ocean, I say over and over in my head. And then suddenly there’s a slight jolt and we’re on the ground. I’m so happy and relieved I want to cry.
“We made it,” I whisper to Elliot. “We’re here.”
As we get up to go, I glance out of the plane window and catch my breath. Everything looks so American—from the long-nosed silver trucks to the men working on the wheel of the plane next to ours, with their navy-blue baseball caps and cargo pants.
Elliot’s grin is so wide it practically reaches his ears. “We’re in New York,” he whispers excitedly. “We’re in New York!”
Even having to wait almost two hours to get through customs doesn’t dampen our enthusiasm. As we join the queue for a taxi, Elliot and I keep grinning at each other and shaking our heads in disbelief.
“I can’t believe we’re really here,” Elliot keeps saying again and again, clapping his hands together.
As I watch the bright yellow taxis speeding off with their passengers, I feel as if the plane has plonked us down right in the middle of a movie set. Everything looks so different—and yet so familiar. Poor Mum doesn’t look very excited, though; pretty much as soon as we landed she had to start making calls to people about the wedding. Right now she’s on the phone to Sadie Lee—the woman in charge of the catering. Apparently there’s been some kind of problem getting the quail for the Downton Abbey–style menu.
“OK, well I suppose that will have to do,” she says, pacing up and down beside us. “And don’t forget the custard for the bread pudding.”
Dad goes over and places a hand on Mum’s shoulder. She leans into his shoulder. In all my fear and excitement, I’d kind of forgotten that Mum is actually here to work. I go over and join them for a group hug.
Finally, we reach the front of the queue.
“Where to?” the driver says, jumping out of the cab. He’s dark and swarthy and wearing a black jumper, jeans, and a serious scowl.
“The Waldorf Astoria, please,” Dad says, causing Elliot to have another clapping fit.
“This is the best day of my life, ever!” he cries.
The cabdriver looks at him like he’s crazy, then he sees our
huge pile of luggage—we needed two huge cases just for the bridal-party outfits. “Geez!” he says. “You guys sure you don’t need a pickup truck?”
Mum smiles at him apologetically.
The cabdriver starts slinging the cases into the boot, muttering.
“Don’t worry,” Elliot says to me quietly. “New York cab-drivers have to be rude—it’s their thing.”
The cabbie straightens up and looks at Elliot. “What did you call me?”
Elliot practically jumps out of his skin. “Nothing. I was just saying, it’s all part of your act, as a New York taxi driver.”
“What’s part of my act?”
“Being—er—being—rude.” Elliot looks at the floor like he’s hoping it will open up and swallow him whole.
“That’s no act, son,” the cabbie growls. “Now get in.”
We all shuffle into the cab. I daren’t look at Elliot in case I start to giggle. I’m so full of nervous energy and excitement I feel like I might explode. As the driver pulls out of the airport, I catch my breath. Everything is so huge—from the wide-open highway to the gigantic billboards lining the roadside.
“So, had any snow yet?” Dad says to the cabdriver, doing that typical British thing of, when in doubt, ask about the weather.
“Nope,” the driver replies. “Where the hell d’you think you’re going?” he yells out of the window as a truck cuts in front of him.
I clench my fists so tightly my nails cut into my palms. Instantly, Mum and Elliot, who are sitting on either side of me, place a hand on my knee. I close my eyes and think of Ocean Strong.
Once we get to the heart of New York my head feels like it might actually burst from all the incredible sights it’s taking in. I’d expected the skyscrapers but I hadn’t expected them to be quite so sky-scraping. And I hadn’t expected to see so many old buildings mixed in with the new. Every block we go past seems to have at least one old stone church nestled between the gleaming towers. And the people are even more fascinating. The sidewalks are crowded with business-people and Christmas shoppers. Just when I focus on one interesting-looking character, another one bursts into view. I watch as a beautiful woman in a charcoal-grey suit and bright blue trainers effortlessly weaves her way along the crowded pavement, suddenly disappearing into a juice bar. Then my eyes fall on a young Hispanic guy with purple hair coming out of a bookshop the size of an aircraft hangar and being swallowed up by the throng. There’s a cop biting into a hot dog at a traffic crossing and a nun in a dark blue habit, gliding through the mayhem as calmly as if she’s in a trance. Everywhere I look I see an epic photo opportunity. Even the noise seems bigger here, a chorus of sirens and car horns and shouting. Next to me, Elliot keeps squeezing my arm with excitement.
And then, finally, we get to Park Avenue. The road is so wide that the traffic lights are suspended over them on huge poles, swaying slightly in the wind. They’re the same yellow as the taxis that seem to make up practically every other car. My eyes open wider and wider as I take in the palatial hotels lining the street. All I can think is, I am going to take some amazing photos while I’m here.
When we pull up outside our hotel, even Dad looks speechless. The grey stone front seems to stretch up for miles. Two huge Christmas trees twinkling with red and gold lights are standing on either side of the large revolving door, like guards on duty. As I step out of the taxi, I feel something cold on the end of my nose. I look up and see that it’s starting to snow. Not heavily, just a few tiny flakes drifting down, as if they’ve sneaked out of a cloud to see what’s going on.
“Good afternoon, ma’am!”
I look over and see a doorman dressed in the smartest uniform ever, smiling at me.
I smile back shyly. “Afternoon.”
“Welcome to the Waldorf,” he says, coming over to help us with our cases.
I look at the Christmas trees and the twinkling lights and the snowflakes shimmering in the air like powdered silver, and I don’t feel like I’m in a movie anymore; I feel like I’m in a fairy tale. As we all follow the doorman into the hotel, I cross my fingers and hope it has a really happy ending.
Chapter Fourteen
Imagine the most incredible, beautiful, luxurious fairy-tale palace your brain is capable of conjuring. Then add more marble, more gold, more chandeliers, and more general shininess and sparkliness and then, maybe, you’ll have something close to the Waldorf Astoria.
“Wow!” Elliot exclaims, as he gazes around the lobby.
“Beats the Hastings Travelodge, eh, kids?” Dad says with a wink.
I’m too stunned to even giggle.
Mum looks slightly terrified. “This is huge,” she whispers to Dad. And I’m not sure if she’s talking about the lobby, the hotel, or the wedding she’s got to organize.
By the time we’ve been shown to our rooms, Elliot and I are doing a great impression of a pair of goldfishes—opening and closing our mouths but with no words coming out other than “Oh my God.”
We’ve been put in two adjoining rooms right next door to Mum and Dad’s.
“We need one of these back at home,” Elliot calls over to me from the adjoining door. “How cool would that be, if I could just pop over to see you without ever having to go outside?”
“It would be very cool,” I say, perching on the edge of my bed. My room is like something out of a stately home. The furniture is all made from gleaming mahogany, the chairs and the desk and the bed all with ornately carved legs. The color scheme is burgundy and gold, which isn’t something I would ever choose for my bedroom at home, but here it’s perfect. I look over to the window. The velvet curtains go all the way from the ceiling to the floor and are tied back with wide sashes. “Oh my God, is that . . . ?” I jump off the bed and race over to the window.
Elliot follows me. “The Empire State Building,” he gasps as we gaze out at the New York skyline.
We turn and look at each other for a second, then we both start jumping about like kids on Christmas morning.
For the rest of the afternoon, Mum and Dad are busy in meetings with Cindy, Jim, and the catering manager. Elliot and I are supposed to be napping off our jet lag before we go out for the evening but we’re far too excited to sleep. Instead, we’ve built a nest of cushions and pillows on my bed and we’re channel surfing our way through American TV.
Elliot is also looking up interesting facts about the Waldorf Astoria on his laptop. My laptop is still tucked away inside my suitcase. I’ve decided to leave it there for the rest of the trip. I’ve also turned off the Internet on my phone. I want it to truly feel as if there’s an ocean between me and everyone from school and my Unicorn Knickers Shame.
“Oh my God, Pen, listen to this!” Elliot starts reading from his screen. “The Waldorf Astoria was created by two feuding cousins called Waldorf and Astor who each built rival hotels next to each other.” He turns to me, laughing. “Then, when they made up, they built a corridor between them.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.” Elliot continues reading. “Oh, but it’s not this building. This one was built in 1931. The original hotel was knocked down to make space for the Empire State Building.”
We both glance to the window and once again I get that pinch-me-I’m-dreaming feeling.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Elliot exclaims with a gasp. “This was the hotel where room service was first invented!”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope. And—and”—Elliot can barely contain his excitement—“there was a secret underground train platform.”
“What?”
“It was for VIPs who wanted to arrive here in secret, like the president.” Elliot looks at me, his eyes wide as saucers. “Oh, Pen, I love this place.”
In the end we order some room service because, as Elliot said, “It would be rude not to, given that they invented it.” We order a Waldorf salad because it was also invented here and a huge margherita pizza. I’m just starting to feel really sleepy when Mu
m and Dad get back. Dad is looking his usual laid-back self but Mum is looking super-stressy.
“There’s so much to do!” she wails, plonking herself down on my bed. “I knew we should have come sooner.”
“It’ll be fine,” Dad says, giving her a reassuring smile. “We’ve got all day tomorrow to sort everything out. And Sadie Lee is a star.”
Mum nods. “Yes, she’s amazing. Her bread pudding tastes divine.” Mum turns to me. “Cindy and Jim were wondering if you could take some behind-the-scenes photos for them. They’ve got a professional photographer booked for the wedding day, but they were saying how nice it would be if they could have some pictures of us setting things up and putting the Downton Abbey touches to everything. And they’ve asked if you’d take some fun shots on the day too—the little things the professional photographer won’t see.”
“Seriously?” I feel an excited fluttering in my stomach. “But why me?”
“I showed them some of the pictures you’ve taken at other weddings and they were very impressed.”
Dad starts nodding and grinning proudly. “They really were.”
“So they should be,” Elliot says. “Penny’s an awesome photographer.”
I feel all smiley inside. “Wow. When do I start?”
“Tomorrow, while I’m setting everything up,” Mum says.
“Don’t worry, Elliot,” Dad says. “While the girls are busy we can do a bit of sightseeing. How do you fancy a tour of the museums?”
Elliot looks up at Dad and to my surprise I see that his eyes are gleaming with tears. “That would be epic,” he says quietly. “Seriously, you guys are the best. Thank you so much for bringing me here.”
“Oh, honey,” Mum says, laughing. “You’re very welcome.”
And we all smother Elliot in a hug.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, I’m woken by a knocking sound.
“Pen, are you awake?”
My first thought is, how am I able to hear Elliot’s voice so clearly through my bedroom wall? Then I open my eyes and catch a glimpse of crisp white bed linen and plush burgundy carpet and it all comes flooding back. I’m in the Waldorf Astoria. I’m in New York. I survived the flight!