By lunchtime I’m feeling even more relieved. Megan and Ollie are both off sick and all the people I thought would give me the most grief about what’s happened are actually showing me a grudging respect. Maybe it’s that they don’t quite know how to handle it, or maybe Leah Brown just doesn’t have too many fans here. Either way, Kira and Amara are lovely and everyone else leaves me alone. Before I go back for afternoon lessons, I pop out to see Tom. He’s fallen asleep over the steering wheel. I knock on the window to wake him up.
“What’s happened?” he says, instantly looking panicked.
“It’s OK—you can go home,” I tell him.
He rubs his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, everyone’s being fine. Seriously. Go home. Get some proper sleep—in a bed.”
Tom frowns. “OK, well, I’m going to leave my phone on so if you need me just call and I’ll be straight back down here.”
I smile. “Will do.”
I watch Tom drive off and I’m about to go back into school when I feel my phone vibrate in my blazer pocket. I take it out and see that I’ve got a text from Elliot. My heart starts to pound as I open it.
Please don’t hate me. My dad confiscated my laptop and phone and I only just got them back. We were in the middle of a massive argument when you called and I couldn’t face seeing you. PS: I’ve run away
I study the text for clues as to whether Elliot leaked the story about me. When I don’t find any, I send a reply getting straight to the point.
Did you tell that website about me and Noah—and about the blog?
What website? No, but I feel terrible about the comment I posted on your blog. It’s been so horrible at home, I wasn’t thinking straight. PS: I’VE RUN AWAY, AS IN RUN AWAY FROM HOME!!
Elliot didn’t do it. He didn’t leak the story. I feel overcome with relief that he didn’t, and guilt that I ever thought he could.
What do you mean you’ve run away? Where are you?
On the pier
You’ve run away to the pier?!!
No!!! I’ve run away and I happen to currently be at the pier. I need to see you xxx
I start walking down the road away from school, texting as I go.
I need to see you too! xxx
Can you come and meet me? Please? I’ll even play that stupid 2p game . . .
On my way
Chapter Forty-Two
As soon as I see Elliot leaning against the 2p game in the arcades, I know there’s something seriously wrong. He’s wearing an enormous burgundy Puffa jacket, a huge pair of green wellies, and a Russian-style fake fur hat, and for once he has not managed to make a weird combo look cool.
“What’s happened?” we both say at exactly the same time.
“Jinx!” we both say at exactly the same time. We look at each other for a second before we burst out laughing. Then Elliot hugs me as the laughter quickly turns to tears.
“I can’t breathe,” I splutter, trying to remove my face from the humongous Puffa jacket.
“Sorry. Sorry.” Elliot takes a step back. “Oh, Pen, I’m so sorry.”
“What for?” I say, a last trace of suspicion flickering in my mind.
“For that stupid comment I made on your new year’s resolution post. I’ve been such an idiot, but so much has been going on at home I need to explain.”
I look at him. “Have you really run away?”
Elliot nods gravely. “ ’Fraid so. As of tonight, I am a man on the street, a man of no fixed abode, one of our nation’s lost souls.”
“But it’s the middle of winter. You’re going to freeze.”
“Why do you think I’m wearing this getup?” Elliot gestures at his bizarre outfit. “I’m not dressing like a chavvy Russian fisherman for fun, you know. I’m trying to avoid hypothermia!”
“But why are you running away?”
“My dad’s said he’ll disown me if I ever get a boyfriend.” Elliot turns and stares into the 2p machine. The flashing lights cast patterns on his face.
“What?” I stare at him, horrified.
Elliot looks back at me. His eyes are glistening with tears. “He said that there’s no way I can keep on living under his roof if I ever became”—Elliot mimes a pair of speech-marks—“ ‘a practicing homosexual.’ And then yesterday morning the whole thing escalated and he took away my laptop and phone.”
“What? But why?”
“Because he’d gotten it into his head that I’d met someone while I was in America and he didn’t want me contacting them.”
“But why did he think that?”
“Remember my campaign to ruin my parents’ Christmas?”
I nod. “Hank the Hell’s Angel?”
“Yep. You could say it backfired slightly.”
“Oh no.”
“I said to my dad, ‘You can’t take away a teenager’s online access; it’s like taking away their right to breathe.’ ”
“What did he say to that?”
“He’s a lawyer. He just quoted a load of laws at me until I lost the will to live. I think that’s when you turned up at the door.” He frowns at me. “Why didn’t you knock on the wall? And why did you send me such a stroppy text? Was it the comment on the blog? It was, wasn’t it? I’m so sorry. I’ve been so jealous and it’s been horrible.”