“Of course we will, darling,” Mum says with a smile.
“We’ll all be there for you,” Dad says.
Elliot’s phone starts ringing again. “Hello, Mum . . . I just told Dad . . . I’m next door . . . I’ll be back in two seconds.” He puts his phone in his pocket and sighs. “I swear, my parents never talk to each other about anything!” He suddenly looks really worried. “Oh, I hope they let me come with you. What if they say no?”
“Don’t worry, darling,” Mum says. “I’ll go round and have a word with them later. I’m sure they won’t mind—especially as our clients will be paying for everything.”
Elliot nods and grins. Then he turns and looks at me hopefully. “So, what do you reckon, Pen?”
I take a deep breath and smile. “I reckon we’re going to New York!”
20 December
Facing Your Fears
Hey, guys!
Thanks again for all of your comments on my blog about friendship. I know it sounds weird as I haven’t actually met any of you or anything but I really do think of you all as my friends—you’re always so lovely and kind and your support means so much to me.
So, most of you will probably remember my recent post about the panic attacks I’ve been having since the car accident. Well, this week I had a bit of a Glass Slipper Moment.
A Glass Slipper Moment is the name Wiki and I give to things that happen that are really bad at first but that actually end up leading to something really good—like when Cinderella loses her glass slipper but it ends up reuniting her with Prince Charming.
Earlier this week, something really, truly, hideously horrible happened to me and it caused me to have another of my stupid panic attacks. But I think/hope it’s all going to lead to something really good.
I’m going away somewhere this week and I’m going to have to go on a plane.
This is making me feel really anxious but I’m hoping that if I can do this—if I can face my fear—then it might make it go away for good.
When I was little I used to think that a witch lived under my mum and dad’s bed.
Every time I had to go past their bedroom to get to my own room, I’d run as fast as I could, so that the witch didn’t fly out on her broomstick and turn me into a toad.
Then one day my dad saw me racing along the landing looking all scared and he asked me what was up.
When I told him, he made me come into the bedroom with him and he shone a torch under the bed.
The only thing that was under there was an old shoe box.
Sometimes you have to face up to your fears to realize that they aren’t actually real.
That you aren’t actually going to die—or get turned into a toad.
I’m going to do that this week, when I get on a plane.
How about you?
Do you have any fears that you’d like to face up to?
Maybe we could do it together . . . ?
Why don’t you post your fear and how you’re going to face up to it this week in the comments below?
Good luck and I’ll let you know how I get on in next week’s blog.
Girl Online, going offline xxx
Chapter Twelve
“What you need,” Elliot says to me as we take a seat in a café in the departure lounge, “is your own personal Sasha Fierce.”
“My what?” My heart pounds like crazy as I look around the lounge. Very soon we’re going to be called to board the plane. And then I’m going to have to get on the plane that’s going to somehow stay miles up in the sky without crashing down. But what if it does come crashing down? What if—
“Sasha Fierce,” Elliot says. “You know, Beyoncé’s alter ego, her stage persona.”
I frown at him. “What are you talking about?”
Elliot leans back in his chair and stretches out his long legs. He’s wearing a vintage Harvard sweatshirt, pinstripe skinny trousers, and bright green chucks, which perfectly match his bright green glasses. How can he look so laid-back and cool when we’re about to get on a giant metal tube and go shooting up into the sky?
“When Beyoncé first started out in the music business, she was really quiet and shy and she hated going onstage,” Elliot says. “So she invented an alter ego called Sasha Fierce who was brave and feisty and cool. Then, every time she went onstage she could pretend to be Sasha and it helped her act all confident and hair swishy.”
“Hair swishy?”
“Yeah, you know . . .” Elliot swishes his head back and forth, causing his glasses to come flying off and land in my lap.
“Right,” I say, handing his glasses back, “and how is this supposed to help me?”
“You need to invent your own version of Sasha Fierce and then pretend to be her when you get on the plane.” Elliot strokes his chin the way he always does when he’s deep in thought. “How about Sarah Savage?”
“No! That makes me sound like some kind of psycho!”
I look at my parents queuing up to buy coffee—and a calming camomile tea for me. Although my mouth is as dry as sandpaper, I don’t want them to come back because then we’ll have our drinks, and then we’ll have to get ready to board the plane and—
“OK, how about Connie Confident?”
I look at Elliot and raise my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
Elliot sighs. “All right, you think of one then.”
A woman walks toward us, wheeling a small, bright pink case. She’s wearing tight grey jeans, pointy black boots, and a beautiful cape coat. She looks effortlessly cool and serene. Even her hair is immaculate—a sleek black bob, glowing with mahogany highlights. As she walks past me I see that she’s wearing a necklace with the word STRONG on it. It’s like one of those “signs from the universe” that Mum is always going on about.