Girl Online (10 page)

My mind begins to race. Is this a paparazzi shot? Or one of Noah's crazy fans?

But then I realize it's the selfie that I took earlier in the car.

The one on my phone.

Chapter Twelve

My heart beats faster inside my chest and my pulse quickens, but I take a big, deep breath. I am not going to let some phone thief bully me into panicking about this. I know exactly who I can turn to in this situation. I gather my laptop in my arms and run down the flight of stairs that lead from my cosy attic room and knock frantically on Tom's door.

“Yeah?” I'm surprised he can hear me knock over the thrumming bass of his favourite dubstep music, but he's very attuned to any disturbance of his privacy.

“It's me.” I push open the door and see my brother at his computer. He spends so much of his time there that I'm surprised there isn't a permanent indent in his desk chair.

“Everything OK, Pen-pen?” He takes off his head-phones.

I bring my laptop over to him and show him the picture. “This was taken from my phone—the one that was stolen at the concert. Look at the subject line. I think someone wants to use it against me?”

Tom's body language shifts from relaxed to tense, like he's gearing up for a fight. “OK, first of all, have you called your provider? They can shut down the phone remotely.”

I nod. “Yeah, I did that about ten minutes after I lost it. But I haven't done anything else . . . I guess I was still holding out hope that someone would find it and hand it in.”

He grabs his phone and starts dialling a number. “Right, well, at least that's something. Is there anything that's really compromising on your phone? If they've got this photograph, they might have downloaded others from your phone already, or got your contacts list. Didn't you have a password?”

“I had a password but . . . it was Noah's birthday.” I cringe at how obvious that sounds, now that I say it out loud. “If someone had recognized it was my phone, that wouldn't be too hard to guess. There are a few texts, and most of my conversations with Noah are on WhatsApp.”

“Let's go through and change all your passwords—we can do that remotely, and set it so that your phone wipes if it's connected to the Internet. Then you'd better let Noah know that someone might have got hold of his number.”

The thought of that makes me feel anxious all over again, but Tom reminds me that it's just a phone number, and not passport details or a full-blown medical history. “Pen-pen, it was an accident. Noah will understand. He cares more about you than a stupid mobile number.”

After an hour sitting on the edge of Tom's bed, I've managed to shut down the phone, wipe it clean, and change all my passwords. I feel so much better knowing that I've done as much as possible, and that there's nothing more TheRealTruth—whoever they are—can do to hurt me. I
don't want to be a victim anymore to people who think they can abuse my privacy and my emotions. I remind myself that they don't know anything about me and Noah, and how solid our relationship is after everything we've been through. I'm stronger than I was last year, and I want to remain that way.

I stand up and hug Tom from behind as he taps away at his computer, changing the last of my log-in details. “Thanks, bro. I love you.”

He pats my arms. “I'm proud of you for not freaking out, Penny.” He spins round in his chair. “And be careful in Europe. If anything happens, I'll be on the first plane out.”

“I know.” As I leave, I take a deep breath and finally feel like I am actually going. And I can't wait.

•  •  •

When Noah picks me up the next morning, my adrenaline is still running high from the previous night. I tell him all about TheRealTruth and he doesn't even flinch. Instead, he grabs my hand.

“Remember what I said, Autumn Girl. I'm here for you. Sounds like you and Tom got things sorted, but if anything else from this creep comes up we'll face it together. You and me against the world, all right?”

“All right,” I say, and my heart lifts as I realize that whoever is trying to . . . blackmail me? Scare me? Trigger my anxiety? Whatever it is they're trying to do, I won't have to face it alone. If anything, our chat about TheRealTruth ends up being a welcome distraction from the short plane journey because, before I know it, we've landed and Noah is taking my hand and escorting me through the airport, into the car park, and up to the tour bus.

It is just as I had imagined: a great big black bus, with huge, tinted windows. It's super shiny and swish. Noah's face is lit up with excitement and he squeezes my hand so tight I feel my bones crush together.

“This is really happening, Pen! Look at this absolute beauty.” He skips ahead and stands in front of it, attempting to take a tour-bus selfie—but of course he only manages to get his face and a tiny bit of black behind him.

“Let me take it, you doofus.” I snatch the phone from his hand and take a much better shot with his arms outstretched and the bus behind him.

Larry pops his head out of the door and waves us in. “Oh, good. You're here!” he says. As we step inside, I realize how much of a boys' paradise this is. There are several mini fridges, games consoles, and TV screens everywhere. The rest of Noah's band starts filing in and, surprisingly, I don't feel claustrophobic. It's a lot roomier than I could ever have expected. There are two sofa areas, a small kitchen, a shower with a toilet, and at the back of the bus there are a few caravan-style beds in case anyone feels the need for a quick snooze.

I feel a hand slide behind my back and a husky voice in my ear.

“Wanna play?” I turn to see Blake gesturing towards the Xbox.

“Oh, I'm not very good really!” I say modestly, although secretly I'm an absolute whiz at
Sonic the Hedgehog
and
Mario Kart
. Having an older brother means that the majority of the time I've spent bonding with him has been over lengthy gaming sessions. A lot of my fondest memories with
Tom are of the days and weeks we used to spend trying to complete various games together, snacking on handfuls of cereal and leaving the room only for the occasional toilet break.

What is he doing right now?
That's not hard—he's probably on his computer, playing
Halo.
I bet Mum is cleaning the kitchen, wearing her dusting shoes, flapping around with a feather duster and singing along to eighties classics. My dad, on the other hand, is probably playing solitaire on his computer, or pretending to do the crossword in the paper. He never does them properly; he just tries to think of the most immature words he can to fill the spaces, then leaves the crossword out for my mum to find on one of her cleaning sprees. She will usually laugh uncontrollably and they'll end up smooching like teenagers in a heap on the sofa. I shudder and quickly snap out of my daydreaming.

“That's not true, Penny!” Noah laughs. “I seem to remember you kicking my butt at
Mario Kart
last time I saw you!”

“Aha! I knew it,” snaps Blake. “No excuses!” He shoves a controller into my hand and stretches out in a chair in front of a TV, placing a bottle of beer on the table and burping out of the side of his mouth.

“You're on,” I say, sitting down beside Blake and putting on my best smirk as he starts a game of
Forza Motorsport
. I can't say car racing is my forte, but I'll give my best shot.

“Prepare to lose,” he chimes back, with a strange smile on his face. He takes a sip of his beer, holding eye contact with me until I feel uncomfortable and turn towards the screen and select my car. Blake stretches out with one leg up on the table, burping and swearing at his racing car. I might actually
beat him! I can hear the rest of the guys laughing behind us, and Noah is improvising an entire song about bratwurst.

“Hey, so your friend Megan is something else,” Blake says without taking his eyes off the screen.

“What?” I'm so shocked I almost drop the controller, and my on-screen vehicle crashes dramatically into a concrete barrier.

Blake zooms past me and pumps both fists up in the air when he crosses the finish line. “Oh yeah! I knew this little girlie couldn't beat me. Better luck next time.”

I don't care about the car—but I do care about this new piece of information. “So, you and Megan talked then?”

Blake winks at me. “Why, you jealous?”

“Leave her alone, dude,” says Noah.

I look over at Blake, who is frowning in concentration at the screen. He's a really strange character; I have no friends like him, no one to compare him to. He is so different from Noah that I find it hard to think of them being close friends for so long. Noah is caring, gentle, and funny, while Blake seems very unaware of other people and somewhat cold. I can't place my finger on it, but something about him makes me feel uneasy. One thing I know for sure is that Noah wouldn't be drinking beer at two in the afternoon while swearing profusely at an animated car.

I want to know more about Blake and Megan, but I don't know how to ask. As the bus starts to crawl forward Blake throws his arms up in the air again.

“We're OFF!” he yells, and my thoughts of Megan are lost in the infectious cheers of excitement that ripple across the bus.

Chapter Thirteen

Larry emerges from the front of the bus, a large German flag draped on his shoulders.

“All right, you party animals, we should arrive in the city within forty minutes. Use this bus as your base. A lot of the crew will be staying here, but I want you to feel as though you can come here for some peace, or a game against me on the Xbox. That includes you, Penny!” He gives me a little wink. “It'll be hotels for the night in each city and then the travelling will continue in the bus or by plane to each country and city that we go to.”

“How much are we paying you to be our tour guide?” Noah shouts, and everyone else laughs.

“Nothing, you silly fool.” Larry throws the flag in Noah's direction and he wraps it round himself. It's nice seeing Noah in his element, laughing and joking with his friends and being so excited. It's a whole other level of attractive, and I honestly just want to smooch him right then and there.