Girl Online: On Tour (2 page)

At least one good thing has come from the Internet, though. Pegasus Girl and I swapped email addresses after she supported me, and she’s gone from being
Girl Online  
’s most faithful reader to one of my best friends—even though we haven’t met in real life yet. After listening to me moan for the millionth time about wishing
Girl Online
still existed, she told me that I could change my blog settings so that only people I gave a password to could read what I wrote. Now she, Elliot, and Miss Mills are the only people who read my ramblings, but it’s much better than nothing.

I can see Miss Mills through the warped glass in her classroom door, her light brown hair tumbling forward as she leans over her marking. I knock on the door frame and she looks up at me, smiling.

“Afternoon, Penny. Are you all done for the year, then?”

I nod. “Just finished my history exam.”

“That’s great! Come on in.”

She waits until I’ve sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs. All around the room are my fellow students’ photography projects, mounted on black foam board and ready for the summer exhibition. Against Miss Mills’s wishes, I specifically asked not to put my work on display. I completed all the assignments but couldn’t face showing my photographs to anyone else. Most of my class also put their portfolios online,
but I stopped uploading mine after Christmas. I’m terrified someone will find it and use it to make fun of me. Instead, I’ve been compiling a paper portfolio and handing it in to Miss Mills each week. The physical act of creativity has been very therapeutic.

She pulls out my portfolio and hands it back to me. “Great job, as always, Penny,” she says with a smile. “This is our last meeting for a while, isn’t it? I wanted to talk to you about your last blog. You know, it does get better.”

I shrug. Getting through each day seems to be just about all I can handle.

As if she’s reading my thoughts, Miss Mills continues. “I think you can do far more than simply survive each day. You can thrive, Penny. You’ve been through a lot this past school year. I’m glad you’ve decided to continue with your A levels—especially in photography—but I don’t think you should let your choices worry you too much. You’re allowed to not know what you want to do yet.”

I want to believe her, but it’s hard. It feels like everyone has their lives all figured out, except me. It’s not something Elliot can relate to. He knows he wants to study fashion design and he dreams of one day having his own label. I just found out that Kira wants to be a vet so she’s taking biology and maths to make sure she can get into a good university. Amara is some kind of physics genius and has always wanted to be a scientist, so she is set. All I like to do is take pictures and write blog posts that I can only publish in secret to a select group of my closest friends. I don’t think there’s a career in that.

I know there’s an ocean of possibility out there, but I’m
stuck on the shore, not prepared to dive in. “Didn’t you always want to be a teacher?” I ask.

She laughs. “Not really. I kind of . . . fell into it. I wanted to be an archaeologist! Until I realized that archaeology isn’t about Indiana Jones–style adventuring and too often involves categorizing tiny fragments of bone for hours on end. I spent a lot of time feeling lost.”

“That’s how I feel,” I say. “Lost in my own life. And I don’t know how to use a compass. Is there GPS for your life?”

Miss Mills laughs. “No matter what those
other
adults might tell you, I’ll let you in on a little secret: you don’t have to know now. You’re only sixteen. Go ahead and enjoy yourself! Live your life. Turn that internal compass of yours upside down and backwards and in circles so it doesn’t know which way is up. Like I said, I fell into teaching completely by accident, but now I wouldn’t want to do any other job.” She leans towards me and smiles. “So, are you looking forward to the concert tonight? It’s all anyone in my other classes could talk about. Isn’t Noah supporting The Sketch?”

I grin, glad for the change of subject. My heart lifts as I think of seeing Noah again. There’s a point when Skype and texting just don’t cut it, and that point is now. It’s also going to be the first time I’ve ever seen him perform live onstage, in front of thousands of screaming girls. “Yes, he’s the opening act. It’s a huge deal for him.”

“Sounds like it. Well, you take care of yourself over the summer. And don’t forget about your prep for A-level photography.” She gestures to my portfolio. “Are you sure you don’t want to exhibit? You’ve got some amazing work in here, and it deserves to be recognized.”

I shake my head. She sighs, but she knows it’s a losing battle. “Well, all I can say is keep on writing your blog, Penny. It’s your talent. You know how to connect with people, and I don’t want you to lose that. Make that your summer assignment from me this year, alongside your photographs. I want a full report of your travels when you get back.”

I smile, sliding the portfolio notebook into my bag. “Thanks for all your help this year, Miss Mills.”

I think about our photography assignment for the summer. Miss Mills has asked us to look at “alternative perspectives”: a challenge to see things from a different angle. I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I’m sure going on tour with Noah will offer up a million different opportunities.

“You’re welcome, Penny.”

I leave the classroom, and am back in the deserted hallways. I feel my heart beating inside my chest as I pick my pace up to a jog, and then a run. I burst through the doors that lead outside, throw my arms wide, and twirl on the front step of the school. I blush pink when I realize how cheesy that must look, but I have never been so ready for the school year to be over. Freedom has never felt so good.

Drum roll please . . . I’ve finished school for the year! Done!
Finito!

It wasn’t that bad. Repeat: it wasn’t that bad. But I did have some help (big thanks to Wiki, my bestest pal!) coming up with some strategies for coping when it felt like all I was doing was studying . . . studying . . . and more studying!

If I don’t write these strategies down now, I know I will have forgotten them when exam time comes round next year. For some reason, no matter how many times I have to sit exams, I always find them just as terror-inducing as before.

Five Ways to Survive Exams (from Someone Who HATES Exams)

1. Revise

OK, some might say that’s an obvious one, but this year I drew up a calendar with each subject on it and gave myself a gold star sticker whenever I completed an hour’s revision. It felt a bit like being back in primary school again, but actually seeing all the progress I was making (by way of a constellation of gold stars all over the calendar) made me feel loads more confident in my preparation.

2. Bribes

Not ones for your teachers or your examiner, but for yourself! Whenever I completed a full revision week (see Step 1) I went to Gusto Gelato and got myself a gelato burger as a reward. Nothing like using a sweet treat as motivation!

3. Do the hard questions first

Wiki’s top tip! He says to focus on the questions that are worth the most marks first of all so you don’t get stuck at the end and have to scribble down nonsense for your big essay.

4. Coffee

I don’t even like coffee, but, according to my brother, it helps. I did try it, but every time I took a sip it made me cringe, and I ended up staying awake all night, plagued by anxious shivers. So maybe that’s not such a good tip after all . . .

5. Dream of summer

Remember that there is life after exams! This is basically what got me through. The knowledge that, very soon, I’ll be with Brooklyn Boy again . . .

Girl Offline . . . never going online xxx

Chapter Two

All the way home, my excitement levels have been growing—so much so that I practically waltz into the kitchen. It seems like a pretty apt thing to do because Mum is dressed in a full-blown
Strictly Come Dancing
glitter outfit, twirling as she and Elliot dance a mean salsa across the black-and-white tiles. Elliot’s boyfriend, Alex, is sitting on a stool by the island, shouting out scores in the flamboyant manner of Bruno Tonioli. “Seven!”

Just an average afternoon at the Porters’.

“Penny darling, you’re home!” Mum says, between steps. “You never told me Elliot was such a good dancer.”

“He’s a man of many talents!”

They finish off with an elaborate dip—of Elliot, by Mum.

Alex and I break into spontaneous and enthusiastic applause.

“Upstairs?” I say to Elliot and Alex. They nod in almost perfect synchronization.

Seeing them sends a familiar pang through my heart. Elliot and Alex are the perfect couple—and they don’t have to
contend with my and Noah’s long-distance woes. They’re able to be together whenever they want, without having to worry about time zones or whether there’s enough Wi-Fi to Skype properly. They’re completely relaxed in each other’s presence.

In fact, they spend so much time together that my family has even given them their own portmanteau nickname, like Brangelina or Kimye. They’re Alexiot.

“Are Alexiot staying for dinner?” Mum calls to us before we disappear upstairs.

“No, we’re going to grab burgers at GBK before the concert!” I shout back.

“We are?” Elliot asks, raising an eyebrow.

I cringe. “Kira invited us. Is that OK?”

Alexiot exchange a look but seem to come to an agreement. “No problem, Pennylicious,” says Elliot. He reaches back and grabs Alex’s hand, and I smile.

I remember the day they met, not long before Valentine’s Day. Elliot had dragged me to a vintage-clothing store in an obscure part of the Brighton Lanes, even though we’d just been in there the day before and we both knew they weren’t going to have anything different in stock. But then I’d seen a new guy slouched behind the counter. It took me a few seconds, but I recognized him.

“Oh my god, Penny, he is so cute!” Elliot had pulled me behind a rail of clothing and covered himself with an enormous feather boa.

“That’s Alex Shepherd,” I said. “He’s in sixth form at our school.” Of course I knew him, but mostly because Kira had a massive crush on him. I lowered my voice. “Are you sure he’s gay?”

Elliot rolled his eyes at me. “You think I would bring you in here if I wasn’t sure? We’ve been eye-flirting since he started working here two weeks ago.”

“You eye-flirt with everyone,” I said, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Not like this.” He gave me an exaggerated wink that made me giggle.

“So why haven’t you made a move yet?”

“I will. Just . . . give me time.”

Kira would be devastated to find out Alex plays for the other team, but she’d get over it. He was a little more clean-cut than I would have imagined for Elliot, but he had a mischievous glint in his eye that would make anyone melt into a puddle. When I peeked back round the rail to look at him again, he was still staring at us, so I lifted my hand in a little wave.

“Penny, what are you doing?” Elliot’s whisper rose in tone by at least an octave.

Then I grinned. “Speeding up time. Besides, I’m just being polite. He was looking this way. OK, he’s coming over—be cool.”

“He’s doing
what  
?” Elliot’s face was white with panic, but he smoothed down his hair. “How do I look? I knew I shouldn’t have worn the trilby today! I look too jaunty; I should’ve worn something cooler.”

“Elliot, you’re rambling.” I’d never seen him act so flustered before. I pulled the boa down so that it didn’t sit like a fluffy animal on top of his head. “And, besides, your trilby looks—” But before I could finish my sentence Alex had reached us.

“May I help you?” he asked, with a small smile. He didn’t take his eyes off Elliot for an instant.

“Will you marry me?” Elliot said under his breath.

“What was that?” Alex frowned slightly.

“Oh, nothing . . . I was just wondering if you could help me find a scarf to go with my trilby?” It was like Elliot was a different person. All his nerves seemed to melt away in front of my eyes, and he was back to his normal, confident self.