Then I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Hey, aren’t you that girl with the blog? Noah’s girlfriend?” asks a girl with her bright blonde hair tied to one side in an awesome fishtail braid.
“Uhh . . .”
“Oh my god, guys, it’s Noah’s girlfriend!” Fishtail Braid gathers all her friends round.
“Who, the blog girl?”
“Where?”
“Can you give this to Noah for me?”
Before I know it, the girl and all her friends are surrounding me. Other people in the crowd are noticing me, or maybe they’re just using the commotion to try to get even closer to Noah onstage.
“I need to get out of here,” I say, but it comes out as barely a whisper. All of a sudden this has turned into my worst nightmare. It feels like there are a million hands pressing down on me, all wanting to pull me in a different direction. My breath turns shallow inside my chest. I can’t see where to go—every path through the crowd looks the same, leading deeper into all the faces staring at me. I can’t even hear Noah’s voice anymore over the screaming inside my head.
“Penny? Is that you?” asks a female voice.
I don’t know who it is, but I can only answer in a whimper. The girl grabs my hand and starts to pull me through the crowd. “Come with me. This way.” I feel stupid entrusting myself to her—all I can see is a cascade of long, dark brown hair—but, as she barges a path through the crowd, that feeling is quickly replaced by gratitude.
Chapter Eight
At last we break through the hordes of screaming girls and out into the wide hallway outside the stalls. I take a huge gulp of air, placing my hands on my knees. When I’ve finally managed to clear the fuzz from my mind, I look up. To my surprise, it’s Megan.
She looks genuinely worried about me. “Hey, are you OK? You looked pretty overwhelmed in there.” She puts her hand on my back.
I smile weakly. “I just couldn’t deal with the crowd. It was too much. I lost my phone, and then all the people were pressing down on me . . .”
“Were you crying? Your makeup is streaked.”
I’d forgotten that I’d cried at hearing Noah’s singing, and I wipe my hands across my cheeks. That moment backstage seems like a lifetime ago now compared to the panic attack I just experienced. When I’m struck by anxiety, it’s like everything else is pushed into the background and all my mind can focus on is panic, panic, panic. Nothing else matters. Even if my logical brain tells me that the exit is only a few steps away, my body just won’t listen. It’s like the two are separated from each other by the beast of anxiety. “Oh no, it’s not from that—these were happy tears.”
Megan smiles. “Do you want me to walk with you back to your seat?”
“Sure. It’s upstairs . . . but—oh, I don’t even know exactly where it is.” That’s when I realize that I don’t have my ticket with me. I must have left it in Noah’s dressing room—along with my camera, jacket, purse, and backstage pass. As I explain everything to Megan I can feel myself getting frustrated. I can’t believe my excitement led me to make such a silly mistake.
“Don’t worry about that.” Megan strolls straight up to the nearest security guard, flicking her chestnut hair. “This is Penny Porter—she’s Noah Flynn’s girlfriend. She left her ticket backstage and she needs to get back to his dressing room.”
The security guard gives us both a sceptical look. “Yeah right, and I’m Prince Harry.”
“Sir, please,” I say. “I just came out of the stage door in the front . . .”
“Look, girls, why don’t you go back to the concert and enjoy it like everybody else. No more of these silly games.”
“It’s not a game,” says Megan. She manages to keep her calm exterior, even though I feel like I’m about to break down. “Look, sir, if you’ll find someone from Noah’s entourage they will recognize her and explain.”
He folds his arms across his chest. He’s not going to budge one bit. “If you don’t return to the concert now, I’m going to escort you from the premises.”
“This is outrageous!” says Megan. “When Noah finds out about this, you’re going to be fired!”
I drag her away from the security guard before he can put her in handcuffs, or whatever it is that scary-looking security guards do. I can feel him still glaring at us as we talk in the hallway. “I appreciate you sticking up for me but I—I think I want to go.”
“Are you sure?” Megan puts a comforting arm round me. “You can just come back with me into the stalls?”
I shake my head. “Noah will find me if I’m at home.”
“OK,” she says, understanding. We may have fallen out recently, but she still knows a lot about me. “I’ll come with you, make sure you get home safe.”
“Really? You don’t have to do that. I can just . . .” I was going to say “call Tom,” but that’s not an option either as I’ve lost my phone and I don’t have his new number memorized. “It’s not that far to walk. And, besides, you’ll miss The Sketch and I know you were really excited about seeing them.”
Megan links her arm into mine. “I think you need me more than I need to see The Sketch right now. Plus, I could use some fresh air. The crowd was crazy.”
Megan being so nice to me still makes me feel uneasy, but I can’t hear any hint of bad intention in her voice. We walk together towards the exit.