Girl Online (26 page)

“I thought I’d make us something light for dinner tonight,” Sadie Lee says, putting on her apron. “Don’t want to overdo it before the feast tomorrow.”

“Good plan,” Dad says. “Just let me know if I can help with anything.”

“That would be lovely,” Sadie Lee says. “I was thinking of making a chicken Caesar salad.”

“That happens to be one of my specialities,” Dad says proudly.

“It is,” I say. “Can’t wait.”

“Oh no,” Sadie Lee says, turning to me. “I’m afraid you won’t be eating with us.”

“That’s right,” Noah says.

“What?” I look from Sadie Lee to Dad to Noah. They’re all grinning at me like they’re in on a private joke. “Why won’t I be eating with you?”

“We don’t want you ruining your appetite before the big day,” Noah says.

“We thought it would be best if you went on a fast for the next twenty-four hours,” Dad says.

“What?!”

Noah starts laughing his head off. “Don’t look so stressed. You won’t be having dinner because we are going to be having Picnic Round Two.”

“Is it all ready?” Sadie Lee asks him.

Noah nods and takes hold of my hand. “So, if you’d like to come with me, ma’am, I shall accompany you to your picnic blanket.”

I look at them all and laugh. “Oh my God, that was so mean!”

I follow Noah out into the hallway and down a flight of stairs into the basement of the house.

The basement is like our living room back at home, with a really relaxed and laid-back vibe. There are two squishy sofas covered with cushions and throws and a huge flat-screen TV on the wall. Two brightly colored lava lamps are bubbling away on side tables, casting the room in an orangey glow. The
basement’s way bigger than our living room, though, stretching back the entire length of the house. At the very far end, I can just make out a pool table. The tartan blanket is laid out in front of the sofas, covered in plates of the most amazing picnic food.

“This looks fantastic!” I say, turning to Noah.

“Well, I figured after yesterday I needed to pull out all the stops,” he says with a grin.

We both sit down on either side of the blanket.

“So, did your friend get back OK?” Noah asks.

I suddenly realize that I haven’t bothered to check my phone since I got here. Elliot should have landed by now. I think of my phone upstairs in my bag and I contemplate going to get it, but I really don’t want to disrupt the picnic for a second time, especially when Noah’s gone to so much trouble.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good.” Noah glances up at the TV before looking back at me. “I was wondering . . .”

“Yes?”

“It’s just that when my parents were alive we had this tradition on Christmas Eve and I’d really like to do it again—with you.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“We’d always watch the movie
It’s a Wonderful Life
together.”

As
It’s a Wonderful Life
is one of my favorite movies of all time, this is a total no-brainer. “I’d love to!”

So Noah puts the movie on and we sit on the floor, leaning against the sofa, with the picnic spread out before us.

I’ve always loved black-and-white movies. Just like
black-and-white photos they seem so atmospheric, and much more dramatic. Noah shuffles up right next to me until our shoulders are touching. I don’t think it would be possible to feel any more content.

And it stays like this right until the bit toward the end of the movie when James Stewart is on the bridge calling out to his guardian angel that he doesn’t want to die; that he wants to live again and see his wife and kids. Suddenly I feel Noah pull away from me. I turn to look at him. In the flickering light of the TV screen, I see that his cheek is wet—as if he’s shed a tear.

“Noah? Are you OK?”

He quickly wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Yeah, of course. I guess I must have got something in my eye.”

I sit frozen, unsure of what to do or say. Then it hits me: how much this film must mean to Noah.

I crawl around so that I’m facing him. “Is it . . . are you thinking about your parents?”

Noah is motionless for a second, but then he nods, looking down into his lap. “Geez, way to impress a girl, Noah,” he mutters, “start crying all over them.”

I’m not sure what to do. Then his eyes flick up and he gives me a half smile. But almost as soon as our eyes meet, he looks away again, embarrassed. I want to give him a hug but I don’t know if that’s what he would want.

“It’s OK, honestly,” I say, gently placing my hands on his arms.

“I thought I’d be all right,” Noah says, his head still down. “I thought it would be nice, watching it again . . .”

“Is this the first time you’ve watched it, since . . . ?”

He nods. I want to comfort him but I can’t find the right words. What he’s been through is so horrible—so huge—it feels as if all the words in the world wouldn’t be able to make it any better.

Noah sighs. “It was a really dumb idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. I think it was a lovely idea.”

“You do? Why?”

“Because it’s a way of remembering your parents and—and keeping them alive.”

Up on the screen James Stewart is now racing through the snow, yelling “Merry Christmas” to everyone and everything.

“My mom would always start crying like a baby at this bit,” Noah says with a sad little laugh, “and Dad would always kiss her tears away.”

Without thinking, I kneel forward and start kissing Noah’s face. His tears taste salty on my lips.

“It’s OK,” I whisper as I hold him tight. “It’s OK.”

Chapter Thirty

“Penny! Penny! He came!”

At the sound of Bella’s voice I sit bolt upright in bed and rub my eyes, trying to see in the pitch-blackness. Suddenly, the thin beam from a flashlight shines in my face, causing me to blink.

“He came!” Bella says again. The torch beam swings away to reveal her little face peering at me from the top of the ladder at the end of my bed.

“Who came?”

“Santa, of course.”

“Oh.” I lie back down and grin up at the ceiling.

“Wake up!” Bella says. “We have to see what he’s brought us.”

“OK. Just coming.”

I reach under my pillow for my phone to see what time it is. Five thirty! I also see that I have a new text message and breathe a sigh of relief. By the time I got to my phone last night, Elliot had texted me three times about his flight home and how much he hated his parents. I’d felt really bad about
replying so late. But when I open my texts folder I see that it’s from Ollie.

Happy Christmas, Penny! Hope you’re having a great time in New York. Looking forward to seeing you when you get back. Ollie xx

What? Why is Ollie texting me? And why is he looking forward to seeing me? Then I remember the photo shoot on the beach. He probably just wants me to take some more profile pics for him. Whatever. I put my phone back under my pillow.

“Come on, lazy bones!” Bella calls from the lower bunk and I feel her prodding my mattress.

“OK, OK.”

I clamber down the ladder and peep through the curtain into Bella’s bed. She’s sitting cross-legged, shining her torch on two stockings laid out in front of her. As soon as I see the mysterious lumps and bumps inside the stockings, I get that old familiar excited feeling. I guess you never truly grow out of Father Christmas.

“I didn’t think I was going to get anything this year,” Bella says to me, as I get into the end of her bunk.

“What? Why not?”

“Because I did something really bad at school,” she whispers, “and I thought Santa might have seen but I guess he didn’t.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sure Santa doesn’t mind if you’re bad once in a while. It’s very hard to be good all of the time.”

‘Tell me about it!” Bella says with a dramatic sigh—making me want to adopt her right there and then.

After emptying our stockings—mine was full of brightly colored candy, sweetly scented bath bombs, and a beautiful glass angel—I manage to persuade Bella that we should go back to bed. And somehow she agrees. But as I lie in the dark, my mind becomes way too busy to sleep. I’m unsettled by the text from Ollie, and worried that Elliot hasn’t texted me back—it’s already midday in the UK, so it’s really weird that he hasn’t sent me a message wishing me a happy Christmas. I hope he isn’t annoyed at me for taking so long to reply to him.

Noah kept apologizing for getting upset about his parents last night. In the end I had to remind him that I’d ended up blubbing all over him within an hour of us meeting so it just meant we were even. But, actually, it feels like so much more than that. When you cry in front of someone, when you show them your most vulnerable side, it shows that you really trust them. It’s so strange because, even though I still don’t really know very much about Noah, on some deeper level it feels like I’ve known him forever. Is this what it means when people talk about meeting their soul mate?

I get the sudden urge to write a blog post. Creeping down from my bunk, I go over to my suitcase and take out my laptop. Bella is curled up on her bed fast asleep, hugging the new teddy that Santa brought her. I gently pull her cover over her, then take my laptop back up to my bunk and log on to my blog.

25 December

Do You Believe in Soul Mates?

Hey, guys!

Happy Christmas!

I hope wherever you are, and whoever you’re with, you’re having a great one.

Loads of you have asked me to write more about Brooklyn Boy and I could really do with your advice, so here goes.

I’ve always thought that the idea of soul mates—the idea that there’s someone out there especially for you—sounds so cool and romantic, but I’ve never imagined it happening to me.

Like, I could imagine that somewhere in the 7 billion people on the planet there may be a boy who’s just right for me, but knowing my luck he’d be living in the middle of the Amazon rain forest or a desert in Ethiopia and our paths would never meet.

But then I met Brooklyn Boy.

And the weirdest thing has happened.

Even though I’ve only known him for a few days, in many ways, in
important
ways, it feels as if I’ve known him forever.

So, I still don’t know who his favorite band is, or his favorite flavor ice cream, but I do know that I can tell him anything.

And I know that I can cry in front of him and show him my weak side and I know that he won’t judge me at all.

And I know that he can cry in front of me and show me his weak side and I won’t judge him either—it just makes me like him even more.

It’s so hard to try to describe how I’m feeling. The best way to put it is that when I’m with him I feel like I’ve met my matching person.

Like Cinderella and Prince Charming.

Or Barbie and Ken.
(Hmm, not sure that’s such a great example but you know what I mean.)

Can any of you relate to what I’m saying?

Have any of you felt this way before?

Do you think he might be my soul mate?

Could I really have been lucky enough to meet the one for me? And not have to go trekking through a rain forest or desert to find him!

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments below.

Lots of love,

Girl Online, going offline xxx

PS: If you haven’t already worked it out, I’m still here—in New York! We’ve been able to stay until New Year’s Day. And we’re staying in Brooklyn Boy’s house!! Fairy tales really can happen