Girl Online Going Solo

  “I know what you mean,” I say. “I think that’s why I like photography. Just me and the camera.”

  She looks up and smiles at me. “Thanks for understanding— it’s been good to talk to someone who doesn’t just think I should get over myself and do the role. You said you were just visiting someone. Is it someone in drama?”

  I nod. “Yeah . . . her name is Megan.”

  “Megan Barker?”

  I nod again.

  Posey bites her bottom lip. “I don’t really know her that well, but she had a good audition. Did you know her from home?”

  “Yeah, I’m from Brighton.”

  Posey’s eyes light up. “Ooh, I’ve heard a lot about Brighton and I’ve always wanted to go there but never had the opportunity.”

  “It’s pretty far from Manchester,” I say with a laugh.

  “True!” Posey looks down at her watch. “I . . . I’d better be getting back. I should probably call my mum again. She’s hard on me, but she’ll be worried too.” She picks up her rucksack and turns away.

  “Hang on, wait a second. Can we swap emails? Then if you ever need to talk to anyone again . . .”

  She nods and takes her phone out of her pocket. “That’d be great.” I type my email and number into her phone, so she can WhatsApp me.

  “Anytime, OK?” I tell her.

  Posey leaps forward and wraps me in a hug. I squeeze back, then together we walk back to Madame Laplage.

  Chapter Six

  When I head back to the common room, Megan is waiting for me just outside the door. She’s looking down at her phone, but her eyes are lit up like stars. If she’s noticed that I’ve been gone for a while, she doesn’t show it.

  “Everything OK?” I ask, as I approach.

  “Are you kidding me? Never better. That hot guy Luke asked for my number and he’s just invited me to his flat party next weekend!” She turns her phone round to show me a Snap of Luke—topless—with his address and a time written across it.

  “Wow,” I say, not entirely sure what my reaction should be.

  “Right? He’s so fit. All the girls in my class are going to be so jealous. Megan Barker’s going to be back on top!” She links her arm through mine and lays her head on my shoulder as we walk back up towards her room. “Penny, this has been the best day. Thank you.”

  “Uh . . . you’re welcome? Not sure what I did!”

  She dances her fingers up my arm. “I’m not the only one who got a bit lucky.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Callum asked me for your number too! I hope you don’t mind that I gave it to him.”

  “What? Megan!”

  She throws back her head and cackles, a wicked glint back in her eye. Now this is more like the Megan I know. “Hey, he likes you and you obviously don’t mind spending time with him. I heard you two yammering on about photography—lens this and angles that. What’s the harm? If he calls you and asks you out, you can always say no.”

  I bite my lip, but eventually I shrug. “I suppose so.”

  “Of course! But I wouldn’t say no if I were you. I hear that Callum McCrae is not only a fox but a super-rich fox. His family own some giant estate up in Scotland. He’s probably a laird or something.”

  I grimace. “Yeah right. And even if that is true, that’s even more reason not to go out with him. He’s probably really arrogant.”

  “And betrothed to a countess,” says Megan, fluttering her hand in front of her like an old-fashioned fan. “Ooh, maybe he knows the Royals? Sorry, Penny. He probably won’t call. You’re not quite on his level.” She pokes at me with her finger, but I feel the dig even deeper.

  When we get back to her room, Megan bounces on her bed, still staring at the Snap of Luke. I perch on her office chair, staring around her room. I can’t help but think about Posey. Not only about her beautiful haunting voice, but also about the role that she has in the show.

  “Megan, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course!” She sighs dreamily.

  “Why has today been a good day? I mean, apart from being asked out by super-hunk Luke?”

  She rolls over onto her stomach to face me, her legs kicking up behind her. She leans her chin in her hands and studies my face. “I don’t know. I guess . . . having you here has helped a lot. I haven’t found it that easy.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask gently. Megan is normally so hard to open up—she dances round issues as nimbly as a ballerina.

  “Oh, you know, the girls here are such cows . . .”

  “Megan . . .”

  She swallows, then flips onto her back. Her toes creep up the wall, but her eyes flutter closed. “I haven’t really made any friends here. Not like back home, where I had tons of friends. And everyone’s so freaking talented. Sometimes . . . sometimes I think I’m the least talented person here.”

  I take a deep breath. “Even though you’ve got this big role in West Side Story  ?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t really have a big role.” The words come out as barely a whisper, and I leave the chair to sit up on the bed next to her. “I’m just in the singing chorus.”

  “Why did you lie? You don’t have anything to prove to us, you know. You’re already at this hugely prestigious school. Everyone thinks you’re amazing.”

  “I know. I just didn’t want people back home to see me as this big failure when I already felt like one.” Her eyes open and meet mine. “Plus, I am the understudy for the big role—for Maria. The girl who got it is such a wuss anyway—she’s bound to pull out—so I didn’t think there was any harm in a little white lie.”

  “A wuss?” I ask. The Posey I met didn’t seem like a coward, just a bit lost.

  “She’s got severe stage fright or something—and she’s here on a scholarship, so Madame Laplage will probably make her go home if she pulls out. But if you can’t handle the pressure here, then how can you possibly hope to survive in the outside world? That’s acting, right?”

  “But this is still school . . . Shouldn’t someone be helping her through it?”

  Megan frowns. “Do you want me to get the part or not?”

  “I don’t think it’s fair for someone to be punished for their anxieties.”

  At that, Megan softens. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, Penny.”

  “So Madame Laplage is a real person?” I continue. “Not just a name?”

  “Oh, she’s real all right. And she’s terrifying. We don’t see her around that much, but if you do, it either means someone’s in big trouble or someone’s about to be a big star. She’s like the scout for young talent across a lot of industries.”

  “Wow! Have you ever seen her?”

  Megan shakes her head. “First-year students almost never do. Besides, it’s not just about who gets what role in the shows or plays. You remember those girls you met earlier? They’ve all got these big blogs that everyone at school reads and they’re so creative. So I started a blog too but almost no one reads mine. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

  “Why don’t you show me?” I ask. Megan’s words about Posey were hardly nice, but I know she’s going through a tough time.

  “OK.” She turns on her computer and loads her blog. Just as I expected from Megan, it’s really nicely designed, and even the photos and fashions she’s chosen to focus on are well put together.

  “This looks really good!” I tell her, honestly.

  “Thanks . . . but hardly anyone visits.”

  “Do you visit their blogs?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “And do you leave any comments or anything?”

  Her mouth drops open. “Of course not! I don’t want them to know I’ve been creeping on their blogs when they don’t even bother to visit mine.”

  “See, Megan? That’s your whole problem right there. Maybe if you opened up a little, and let everyone see that you cared about them as much as you wish they cared about you, they might let you in. Blogging is all a
bout community, and it seems to me like this whole school is like a little community too. You have to look out for each other. And you have to sometimes make the first move. If you like something they’ve blogged about, tell them. They might then come to yours to see what you’ve shared. Give and take, you know?”

  “I bet you never comment on other people’s blogs, now that you’re big shot Girl Online.”

  Now, it’s my turn to look shocked. “Are you kidding? Commenting on my friends’ blogs is one of my favourite things! If nothing else, it shows that I appreciate how much time and effort they put into their posts—because I’ve taken the time to respond.”

  “Hmm, I guess that makes sense,” Megan says.

  “Try it. I bet you’ll see more traffic on your blog. And maybe you’ll make some friends in the process too.”

  Megan smiles. “Thanks for coming up here, Penny. I really mean it.”

  “Anytime.”

  22 September

  How to Get Your Blog Noticed

  It’s always a little disheartening when you’ve spent many hours slaving away over your laptop, trying to perfect a blog post, only to have no comments in response. We’ve all been there: nobody starts a blog with an audience ready and waiting, and actually it’s all part of the fun. My friend recently decided to start her own blog and asked me for a few pointers, so I thought I’d sit down and write up a little list of the advice I gave her, in the hope it will help one of you reading this.

  So if you’re looking for that little bit of guidance or reassurance, here’s what I think:

  1. Open up a discussion. End your blog with a question that ties in with what you’ve written and will encourage people reading to leave a response.

  2. Get involved. Start up Twitter and get involved in blogging discussions using certain hashtags. Promote your blog to other bloggers and make friends. You’ll find that a lot of you will have something in common, so you will always have something to talk about.

  3. Comment on other blogs that you love. Other people leaving comments will see yours and know you have a blog too. Plus, much like the point above, it’s nice to get involved.

  4. Promote your blog on social media. Use Instagram and link a photo back to your blog. There is a lot of traffic on Instagram, and if you use hashtags that people can search, there’s a good chance they’ll find your blog. Pinterest is also a great one!

  5. Be natural. Don’t spam people or tweet links 24/7. Nobody likes a try-hard—and it can be a little off-putting. Instead, you want to do what feels natural to you. Have fun and don’t focus on the numbers! These things take time, but with a little bit of patience and some social media sharing, you’ll have readers in no time!

  Hope these few tips help you in some way. Numbers are numbers at the end of the day, and as long as you’re enjoying writing for you, that’s really all that matters. Even if my follower count dropped to five readers overnight, I’d still carry on writing here because I absolutely love it. It’s my little escape and it makes me so happy! That’s what’s most important.

  Have you started a blog recently? Are you going to take any of my tips on board? (See what I did there? See point 1—ha ha!)

  Girl Online, going offline xxx

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, making our way to the Tube station, it’s as if our entire conversation didn’t happen. Megan is back to her normal self, flipping her hair and chatting away about her upcoming date with Luke. It’s only when we come to a halt that she brings it up again.

  “Please don’t tell anyone at home that I’ve been . . . you know . . . struggling here. Don’t want to ruin my reputation!”

  “I won’t, but—Megan—you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. You’re doing great. And you’ll make so many more friends if you just be yourself.” I pause, then add, “The nicest version of yourself.”

  If Megan takes any offence at my little addition, she doesn’t mention it. “And you too. If Callum asks you on a date, you should go.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “It’s better than just worrying about the ghost of Noah Flynn jumping out at you all the time.” She wiggles her fingers mysteriously. Then she winks. “I read Girl Online too, you know. And I’m going to follow all your blog tips.”

  When we hug, I feel her squeeze my shoulders tightly. It’s about as much affection as I’ve ever had from Megan, and I know it must mean she really misses me. “I’ll miss you too,” I say.

  “I’ll see you in November for the show, right?” she adds.

  “Of course—I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “And if you think of anymore ways to make me Miss Popular again, let me know! Go on, you’re going to miss your train.”

  I look down at the time on my phone. Megan’s right. After one more quick hug, I dash through the Oyster card barriers and throw myself onto the Tube before the doors can slam shut.

  Once I’ve got myself settled onto my train back to Brighton, the south London suburbs whizzing past, I think about Megan and Posey—two totally different girls with similar dreams. One has all the confidence in the world, but needs to focus on her technical ability. The other has all the talent and technique, but none of the confidence.

  Since going on the world tour with Noah, I’ve seen a lot of stars performing onstage—The Sketch, Leah Brown, and, of course, Noah himself. They all have different styles, but one thing they all have in common is that special magic—that charisma—that draws our eyes towards them and holds them there. Star power? X factor . . . ?

  Whatever it’s called, I’ve seen it through my camera lens too. And it’s nothing to do with just being famous: Elliot has it in spades, but neither Megan nor Posey is quite there yet.

  My phone buzzes, letting me know I have a new email. To my surprise, it’s from Posey. I open it.

  Dear Penny,

  I wanted to write to you to say thank you so much for being there yesterday. Sometimes I feel so alone in this place—but you’ve made me feel so much better. You understand that my stage fright isn’t just something I can sweep under the rug and pretend isn’t there. You’re the first person who hasn’t told me to “just get on with it” and that means a lot.

  I know we probably won’t get a chance to meet again as I’ll be going home, but I wanted to thank you anyway.

  Posey xx

  Reading her email makes me even more determined to help. The only person I know who’s spent any time on a theatre stage is Mum. I remember Mum telling me that she suffered from stage fright (during what she refers to as “her lost years” in Paris), and I’m sure she knows a few strategies to deal with it. It seems like the other students at Madame Laplage can be pretty ruthless when it comes to fears and anxieties. At least I know that Mum will give a sympathetic ear.

  I hit reply and type up a quick email back to Posey.

  Posey! So great to hear from you.

  Are you free next weekend? My mum was an actress back in the 80s in Paris. Why don’t you take the train to Brighton and you can meet her? Plus, it would be great to hang out. I can show you the sights, like the Pier, and we can go shopping in the Lanes.

  Penny x

  Now I can only wait and hope that she’s able to come. I know that Mum would be able to help her, if only to reassure her that she’s not alone.

  That email sent, I lean my head against the train window. The London streets have disappeared, replaced by the rolling green hills of the English countryside. For once it’s not even raining.

  My mind drifts back to my own recent panic attack—and Callum, the common room, and Megan’s new way of life. Was it the attention I was receiving from Callum that made me feel so unsettled? I think it was the fact I felt OK with the attention from Callum. It felt new and exciting. I may have even been a bit flirty, and maybe it all got a bit too much to handle. Could this mean there is actually life beyond Noah? That is, if Callum isn’t completely put off by the fact I’ve run home with no explana
tion?

  He still asked for your number, a little voice reminds me.

  I jump as my phone buzzes with a text. Could it be . . . but no, it’s not Callum, it’s Mum.

  Are you on your way home yet? Big surprise waiting for you when you get back!! Xx

  A big surprise . . . could that mean Noah?

  I cringe as my treacherous heart leaps from one boy to the next.

  Instead, I take out my camera and spend the rest of the journey flipping through the photos I’ve taken. There’s more to life than just boys—and this camera is going to get me through.

  Chapter Eight

  As I walk up to our front door, I do a double take. Sitting in our front bay window is a small doll staring out onto the street as if she’s waiting for someone to return home. She has wild strands of fiery red hair and her clothes have changed since I last saw her; now she’s wearing a pink tutu and a bright yellow jumper—a far cry from the antique, Edwardian-style dress she’d worn when I first took her home. Still, the tutu and jumper are more appealing to her current five-year-old owner.

  But if Princess Autumn is here . . .

  I frown. That can only mean . . .

  The door swings open and another familiar figure appears at the top of the stone steps. “Penny!” she squeals with delight.

  “Bella!”

  Noah’s pint-sized sister careers down the steps towards me, jumping into my arms. She wraps her legs round my waist and I hug her tight. “It’s so good to see you! But wow, how much you’ve grown in only a few months!”

  “I’ve missed you, Princess Penny!”

  “And I’ve missed you.” I kiss the top of her head as I place her back down on the floor.