As my excitement starts to build, I feel the urge to dance. I grab the remote and turn on the TV. MTV is playing nonstop Christmas tunes. I start dancing around the room to “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” I dance and dance until I’ve shaken off the horrible residue from my dream. Then I collapse down onto my bed and grin at my doll.
“Happy Christmas,” I whisper to her breathlessly.
• • •
Thankfully, Elliot is back to his usual cheery self this morning.
“I’ve come up with a plan,” he whispers to me over the breakfast table, “a plan so dastardly that it would make the Riddler blush.”
“What is it?” I whisper back, pouring some maple syrup on my pancakes.
“It’s called Ten Ways to Ruin My Evil Parents’ Christmas,” he says with a glint in his eye. “By the time I’ve finished, they’re going to wish I was still here with you guys.”
I start to laugh. “What are you going to do?”
“Number one: tell them that I’ve decided to drop out of school and join a hippie commune. Number two: tell them that from now on I will only be answering to my new hippie name, Rain Water.”
By the time Elliot gets to number ten in his evil plan (“Tell them that I’ve got an American Hell’s Angel boyfriend called Hank”), we are both cracking up laughing. Mum and Dad, who’ve been busy talking about the plans for the party, are now staring at us.
“What’s so funny?” Dad says with a grin.
“I’m not sure I want to know,” Mum says.
“Trust me, you don’t,” I say, grinning at Elliot.
• • •
After breakfast, we leave our luggage with the hotel reception and take Elliot to the airport.
As the cab pulls into the terminal, I look at Elliot anxiously. “Will you be OK, flying on your own?”
He nods and grins. “Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to it. I think it will give me a real air of mystery. I can just imagine all the other passengers thinking to themselves, who is this young man, traveling alone? What could his story be?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, well, you’ve certainly dressed for the part.” Elliot is wearing his favorite vintage suit, a dark grey pinstripe, with polished brogues and a pocket watch on a chain—and his New York Yankees cap. Somehow, he manages to make this look totally cool.
Elliot gives me a hug. “I’m gonna miss you, Pen-face.”
“I’m gonna miss you too.”
“Enjoy your holiday romance.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“No, seriously.” Elliot pulls back and looks at me. “You deserve to have some fun after everything you’ve been through lately.”
I feel myself start to well up. “Thank you.”
“And I’m going to be demanding all of the deets as soon as you get back.”
I laugh and nod. “OK.”
And then Elliot’s flight is called. I watch him striding through the gate with a weird mixture of sadness at him leaving, and excitement at what is to come.
“You OK?” Dad says, hugging me to him.
I nod.
“I just got a text from Sadie Lee,” Mum says. “She says to tell you both that she’s just baked us a batch of brownies and we’re welcome to get there as soon as we like.”
I feel my own phone vibrate and my heart leaps at the sight of a new message from Noah.
Morning! Tell me, how good are your tree-decorating skills? N
Grinning, I quickly reply.
World-class. I’m actually Champion Bauble Hanger in my home town—three years running
Only three? Shame! I guess that’ll have to do. Hurry up and get here, Inciting Incident, Bella and I need your help
At first my mind goes blank when I see the name Bella, but then I remember—Noah has a sister.
• • •
In the taxi on the way to the airport, I’d been so focused on keeping Elliot’s spirits up, I hadn’t gotten anxious at all, but going back to the hotel to pick up our luggage is a different story. By the time we pull into the Waldorf, I want to leap from the cab and walk all the way to Brooklyn. As I go into the hotel for one final look around the grand lobby, I tell myself to get a grip. “You can do this,” I tell myself. “You’re Ocean Strong.” But my superhero name doesn’t seem to have the same effect without Elliot here. I think of him sitting on his own on the plane and I feel a hollow ache. Then I remember the exercise Noah told me about.
“Ready, Pen?” Dad says, as he and a bellboy come over with our luggage piled up on a trolley.
I nod. “Yes.”
As soon as I get back in the cab, I try to picture where in my body I feel the most anxious. As usual, it’s the tightness in my throat. I close my eyes and try to picture it as a color and shape. I see a red fist clutching at my neck. At first it makes me feel even worse and I want to open my eyes but I force myself to take a deep breath and just allow it to be there. Nothing happens. The tension in my throat is still there; it hasn’t gotten any better—but it hasn’t gotten any worse either. I take another deep breath. It’s OK, I say to the image of the red fist. I don’t mind you being there. I take another breath. In the background, I can hear Mum and Dad chatting to the taxi driver but I’m so focused that I don’t hear what they’re saying. I try to picture the fist of tension again and this time it’s more pink than red. It’s a little bit smaller too. It’s OK, I say to it again. The rest of my body starts to relax. Now it just feels as if there’s a knot in my throat rather than a huge fist. I take another breath and it’s much easier this time. It’s OK, I keep saying over and over again inside my head. It’s OK. As I keep focusing on the image of the knot, it fades until it’s snowy-white and then it completely disappears.