Every time I had to go past their bedroom to get to my own room, I’d run as fast as I could, so that the witch didn’t fly out on her broomstick and turn me into a toad.
Then one day my dad saw me racing along the landing looking all scared and he asked me what was up.
When I told him, he made me come into the bedroom with him and he shone a torch under the bed.
The only thing that was under there was an old shoe box.
Sometimes you have to face up to your fears to realize that they aren’t actually real.
That you aren’t actually going to die—or get turned into a toad.
I’m going to do that this week, when I get on a plane.
How about you?
Do you have any fears that you’d like to face up to?
Maybe we could do it together . . . ?
Why don’t you post your fear and how you’re going to face up to it this week in the comments below?
Good luck and I’ll let you know how I get on in next week’s blog.
Girl Online, going offline xxx
Chapter Twelve
“What you need,” Elliot says to me as we take a seat in a café in the departure lounge, “is your own personal Sasha Fierce.”
“My what?” My heart pounds like crazy as I look around the lounge. Very soon we’re going to be called to board the plane. And then I’m going to have to get on the plane that’s going to somehow stay miles up in the sky without crashing down. But what if it does come crashing down? What if—
“Sasha Fierce,” Elliot says. “You know, Beyoncé’s alter ego, her stage persona.”
I frown at him. “What are you talking about?”
Elliot leans back in his chair and stretches out his long legs. He’s wearing a vintage Harvard sweatshirt, pinstripe skinny trousers, and bright green chucks, which perfectly match his bright green glasses. How can he look so laid-back and cool when we’re about to get on a giant metal tube and go shooting up into the sky?
“When Beyoncé first started out in the music business, she was really quiet and shy and she hated going onstage,” Elliot says. “So she invented an alter ego called Sasha Fierce who was brave and feisty and cool. Then, every time she went onstage she could pretend to be Sasha and it helped her act all confident and hair swishy.”
“Hair swishy?”
“Yeah, you know . . .” Elliot swishes his head back and forth, causing his glasses to come flying off and land in my lap.
“Right,” I say, handing his glasses back, “and how is this supposed to help me?”
“You need to invent your own version of Sasha Fierce and then pretend to be her when you get on the plane.” Elliot strokes his chin the way he always does when he’s deep in thought. “How about Sarah Savage?”
“No! That makes me sound like some kind of psycho!”
I look at my parents queuing up to buy coffee—and a calming camomile tea for me. Although my mouth is as dry as sandpaper, I don’t want them to come back because then we’ll have our drinks, and then we’ll have to get ready to board the plane and—
“OK, how about Connie Confident?”
I look at Elliot and raise my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
Elliot sighs. “All right, you think of one then.”
A woman walks toward us, wheeling a small, bright pink case. She’s wearing tight grey jeans, pointy black boots, and a beautiful cape coat. She looks effortlessly cool and serene. Even her hair is immaculate—a sleek black bob, glowing with mahogany highlights. As she walks past me I see that she’s wearing a necklace with the word STRONG on it. It’s like one of those “signs from the universe” that Mum is always going on about.
“Strong,” I whisper.
Elliot looks at me. “What?”
“The surname for my alter ego is Strong.”
Elliot nods. “Ah, OK. Yes, that’s good. How about the first name?”
I think for a moment. How do I want my alter ego to make me feel apart from strong? Calm, I guess. But Calm Strong is a rubbish name. As I think of feeling calm, the image of the sea pops into my head. “Ocean!” I blurt out.
Elliot nods. “Ocean Strong. Hmm, yep, that could work.”
Ocean Strong. As I roll the name around in my head, I picture a comic-book superheroine wearing a skintight sea-green bodysuit and cape, with long auburn curly hair spilling over her shoulders. I am Ocean Strong, I tell myself, and, incredibly, it starts to work. My heart rate starts to slow back down to normal and my mouth doesn’t feel quite so dry. I am Ocean Strong. I picture my alter ego surfing a huge wave, calmly surveying the horizon while adopting a superhero stance.
Just at that point Mum and Dad get back to the table with the drinks.
“Everything OK?” Mum says, looking at me.
“Yes,” I reply, and I even manage a smile.
While Mum, Dad, and Elliot chat about New York and all the places they want to see, I focus on a breathing exercise Mum taught me and continue adding details to Ocean Strong in my mind. If Ocean Strong had to get on a plane she wouldn’t bat an eyelid. She’d just stride on board, head held high, gaze fixed straight ahead. If Ocean Strong had been in a car accident, she wouldn’t let it ruin the rest of her life; she’d be fearless and brave and keep on fighting evildoers. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, breaking my daydream; it’s a text from Megan.
Hi, Penny! Kira told me you’re going abroad for Christmas. Is it true? Can you get me some Chanel perfume in duty free? I’ll give you the money when you get back. Thanks xoxo