Girl Online (18 page)

“I'm awake, I'm awake,” says a sleepy Noah. “Whoa, Munich seems awesome.”

I turn and follow Noah's gaze out of the window. The buildings are more picturesque here than the cooler, more modern vibe of Berlin. It's like a real-life version of the imitation German Christmas markets my parents drag Tom and me along to every year, in the centre of Brighton, where we drink glühwein (or hot chocolate, for me!), eat bratwurst smothered in hot mustard, and stick our hands in the mounds of fake snow. Looking down over a
real
German town, I realize this would be the perfect setting for a fairy tale, and I can't help wondering what it looks like in winter, covered in a layer of snow like frosting on a cake.

By the time we arrive at the venue, the roadies have already started setting up and getting everything ready for the show tonight. Noah holds my hand as we're shown through to the backstage area—and I really feel like I'm starting to get the hang of this whole tour thing.

Noah stops us outside the dressing room. “Hey, we're
about to have a big, boring meeting about some technical stuff that you won't want to listen to, but apparently some of The Sketch's friends and family are hanging around in one of the other rooms—do you want to check it out? I'll only be about an hour.”

“No problem,” I say, but I must look unsure because Larry comes over and throws a burly arm round my shoulders.

“Come on, Penny. I'll take you!”

“Thanks, Larry!” I say. Noah and I kiss goodbye, and I leave him to his meeting.

Larry leads me round a corner and out to a big, wide area just behind the stage. There are lots of people here, relaxing on multicoloured beanbags and drinking coffee out of paper cups. I spot a couple of members of The Sketch lounging around and it takes all my willpower not to whip out my phone and snap a picture of them for my friends back home. That wouldn't be very good backstage etiquette.

Larry nudges me towards a table that's laid out with drinks and snacks. “Go over and grab a bite to eat, then introduce yourself.”

“Oh, I'm not good at that . . .”

“Sure you are. Just offer someone a cup of tea. They'll think your accent is so cute they'll be all over you.” He gives me a gentle pat on the shoulder, then goes and plops himself down on one of the beanbags.

I giggle as he sinks deep into the bag—I'm not sure I've ever seen a security guard look so undignified, but somehow he pulls it off. It's even better when he slides a paperback out of his pocket, and it has a bright pink cover and a couple kissing on the front. Who knew Larry loves a good romance novel?

I take Larry's advice and walk over to the table. There really is a vast array of food and drink to choose from, including every type of tea under the sun, from normal English breakfast to camomile and peppermint. There are also huge vats of coffee, which I avoid—it just makes my anxiety spike. I'm tempted by some brightly decorated cupcakes and I wander down the table to take a closer look.

“Oh, those are
so
good,” says a voice next to me. I look up and there's a beautiful girl with very long, very straight brown hair standing next to me. She holds out her hand. “Hi! I'm Kendra. I'm Hayden's girlfriend. You're Penny, right?”

I shake her hand and smile. “Yeah, hi! Wow, I didn't even know Hayden has a girlfriend.” I suddenly realize what an awkward and uncool thing that is to say, and I clap both hands over my stupid mouth.

But luckily she throws her head back and laughs, her bright blue eyes sparkling. “Yeah, I know, right? I'm not like you—I'm a certified GUC.”

“GUC?” I ask, confused.

“Girlfriend Under Cover,” she says with a wink. “It's better for the boys' image if they're single, but, trust me, Hayden wouldn't last a day without me to keep him in line! I don't mind, though. I have a job on the tour team as a makeup artist, so it gives me a legitimate excuse to hang around. And to eat cupcakes, of course.” She reaches out and grabs one. “You can come and sit with us, if you want?” She points at a table surrounded by a few other girls who all look pretty and glossy like Kendra.

“Oh, thanks.” I follow her back to the table, cupcake in hand, but feel increasingly conscious of the fact that I'm
wearing a pair of old jeans and a plain T-shirt while Kendra is cool and casual in a pair of chic black skinny jeans that are ripped at the knees and a floaty white top with cutouts in the neck. We arrived straight off the bus, so I haven't exactly given my outfit a second thought. “I love your top,” I say to Kendra when we sit down.

“Thanks, it's Chanel,” she says, with a smile. “Hayden's credit card goes a long way to making sure I always look my best!”

“Has Noah not kitted you out yet?” asks one of the other girls, who Kendra introduces quickly as Selene. She has gold eyeliner drawn in an elaborate cat-eye shape that pops against her dark skin.

“I, uh . . .” I'm about to say that I buy all my clothes from Brighton thrift stores, but suddenly that doesn't seem very cool.

“He's brought her on this tour; it's the least he could do to help her out a bit,” Selene says, responding to Kendra's warning look. They continue to talk about me as if I'm not there. “I mean, she's not even a GUC—I know I wouldn't want
my
picture in magazines without some kind of preparation. But I guess we're the lucky ones.” Selene and Kendra quickly look over at Pete—one of the other members of The Sketch.

“What do you mean?” I ask, following their line of sight.

“Pete's been with Anna for two years, but they hardly ever get to see each other. It's been three months now since he last saw her, and they've still got three months to go,” says Selene.

Kendra sighs and stares at her nails. “Even more time on the road.” They carry on chatting about what it will be like
on the next part of the tour, which is going to even more far-flung places like Dubai, Singapore, and Australia. I can't help but think I'll be back home in Brighton by then, hanging out with my friends.

Kira has a giant scratch map of the world hanging on her wall, and every time she visits a country she scratches it off the map. She has a big dream to travel the world, and we used to talk about all our fantasy places to visit if we could. I used to worry about whether I would ever be able to travel with my anxiety, but it was still fun to dream about it together. I still can't believe that some of that dreaming is coming true for me, and in the most surreal way imaginable.

Selene's voice breaks me out of my daydream. “How are you enjoying life on tour, Penny?”

I cringe a little. “Oh, you know . . . it takes some getting used to!”

“Hey, we've been doing this for over a year now. You'll get into the rhythm eventually!” Kendra smiles at me, and I smile back gratefully at her attempt to make me feel better.

“You had that blog, didn't you?” asks Selene.

I nod. “I did, but I shut it down at the end of last year.”

“That's good—you wouldn't be able to sit here and talk with us if you were just going to go and write about it all on your blog. The managers would probably have a fit!”

“No, I know—I'm not Girl Online anymore. I'm just plain old Penny.” Suddenly I feel a warning prickle of anxiety heat on my neck and I realize I need to get out of there quickly or else things might go from bad to worse. I stand up from the table. “I'm just going to find the bathroom. It was nice meeting you guys.”

“You too, Penny! Come hang out with us anytime. Then you can officially be a member of the tour WAGs!”

I nod and smile, then head off in the direction of the bathrooms. I push through the heavy door, locking it behind me. I lean up against the door for the moment. I know what was making me feel panicky: the more I hang out with other people who have done this for a long time, the more I worry that it's not going to be for me. I don't have any talents that would make me a useful member of Noah's entourage, and I don't like fashion or music enough to keep up with the other girls. I like my home, and my own bed, and having my family close by. But I like Noah too.

I glance at myself in the mirror. Just thinking about being with all those other girls leaves me feeling racked with inadequacy. My long red hair is curled loosely and looks a little messy. I pull a few strands away from my face and trace my freckles with my finger; they are a lot more prominent now that it's summer. My green eyes stare back at me and I squint in the mirror, making a funny face.

I wish I knew how to do more with my eye makeup, like Selene. My eyes are probably my favourite feature. They are the sort of green that you would probably only see on a vampire in a TV series, and they change colour in different lights. My dad calls them sea-glass eyes, after the smooth shards of glass that wash up on the shore at the beach. Mum and Dad gave me a bottle-green sea-glass necklace for my sixteenth birthday that perfectly matches my eye colour.

I think back to last night and how I'm completely relaxed wearing my comfy pyjamas with Noah. It doesn't matter what other people might think: Noah loves me the way I am,
makeup or no. I look down at my watch and am surprised that it's almost been an hour already. I wonder if Noah's meeting is over yet.

I head back round the corner to the dressing room and knock tentatively on the door, which instead swings open at my touch.

I'm greeted by a completely unwelcome sight: Blake's bare bum.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Blake is completely naked, running around with Noah's guitar, and everyone is in fits of laughter. I have no idea where to look.

“Ahem . . . HEY, GUYS!” I say, loudly enough so they know I've entered the room. It doesn't seem to make any difference. I spot Noah and quickly sandwich myself next him on the sofa, trying desperately to avert my gaze. He is practically doubled over with laughter.

“Oh, hey, P!” He pulls me in for a cuddle and kisses my nose.

“Spare us the PDA, Noah,” Blake calls over.

“Spare me your naked body!” I yell back.

Noah bursts into laughter again and Blake just blinks back at me in absolute horror. I blush pink, but actually feel proud that I managed to respond to Blake's jibes.

When Noah finally regains his composure, he says, “Clear out, dudes. I want a bit of time with Penny before the show.”

“Seriously, man? Can I not put on some boxers first?” Blake protests.

“Hey, you made this bed. Now you have to lie in it. But here—” Noah fishes out Blake's boxers with the end of a drumstick, wrinkling his nose, and whips them across the room. Blake snatches them out of the air and shuffles over to the door, just managing to cover himself with the rest of his clothes, which are rolled up in a ball.

“What was all that about?” I ask Noah, when everyone's finally gone.

“Oh, just typical Blake. He was threatening to play my guitar completely naked tonight.” Noah laughs softly.

“Of course he was,” I say, lifting an eyebrow.

“I'm so sorry, Penny.” Noah lifts my chin with his fingers and gives me a small smile.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought we'd have so much more time to spend together. But the tour is a lot more full-on than I'd ever imagined.” His hands drop from my chin and, instead, he runs them through his hair. “The press is becoming more and more interested in me—I have interviews flying in left and right, and I want this tour to be amazing for everyone, and for me. The reviews are all good, but I need them to stay that way. I want to practise twenty-four seven, and if I'm not practising or publicizing the tour I'm asleep. I feel exhausted already, and I'm only partway through.”

“I know—” I try to reach out to him, to let him know that I understand how he feels, but it's like a dam has broken and the words keep rushing out of Noah.

“On top of that, I feel like this is such a weird time for me. I'm getting to do the one thing I've dreamt of since I was a kid, and I'm doing it with no family around me. I don't get
text updates from my mum and dad asking how the tour is going like the rest of the boys do. I don't have parents to Skype every day, who look out for me, like yours do. Sadie Lee's focus is on making sure that Bella is OK—I'm eighteen, I don't need her as much as Bella does. It's just me, on my own.” He slumps down into the sofa and starts tracing the music-note tattoo on his wrist. “But tonight . . . tonight, I promise that we can go out for dinner after the show. I owe it to you. I know I do.”