Chapter Twenty-Eight
I once read a magazine article that said every dream has a hidden meaning. Like if you dream that you’re running up a hill but you never get to the top, it means that you’re stuck in some area of your life, and if you dream that your teeth are falling out it means that you’re feeling really insecure—or did that one mean that you’re pregnant . . . ? I can’t remember. Anyway, there are people, kind of like dream doctors, who will analyze your dream and tell you what the secret meaning is. As I wake up on Christmas Eve, I wonder what on earth a dream doctor would make of mine last night. Basically, I was trapped on a train with Megan and Ollie and every time we went through a station the train announcer would read out an embarrassing fact about me. So instead of saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving at . . .” he said things like, “Ladies and gentlemen, did you know that Penny Porter once flashed her knickers to the entire world?” And all the time Megan and Ollie just sat across the table from me, laughing their heads off. And every time I tried to get up to leave, they made me sit down. And then the chair I was sitting on turned into a cake and I ended up getting chocolate icing all over my bum.
I sit up and turn on my bedside lamp. I hate dreams. I hate the way you can forget all about the things and people that have hurt you, but then a dream brings them flooding back. I pick up the china doll from the pillow next to me and hug her. It feels so weird to be thinking of Megan and Ollie again.
I get the sudden urge to check Facebook and YouTube to see if people are still talking about the video. Then thankfully I have a reality check. Why would I do that to myself? Especially as I’ve done so well since I got here, putting all of that to the back of my mind. I look around my room and feel a pang of sorrow. It’s my last morning in the Waldorf Astoria. It probably sounds weird to say this but I feel so attached to this room. This was where my life became like a fairy tale. This was where I finally realized that I can actually control what happens to me. I decide to take some photos of it so that I can treasure the memories forever.
First, I take a picture of my unmade bed, with my doll sitting perched on top of a pile of pillows. Then I take a picture of the whole room from various different angles. Then finally I take some shots of the view from the window and one of the chair with the blanket draped over it, to remind me of the night I spoke to Noah on the phone and the moon turned orange. By the time I’ve finished, I feel way better. It’s as if looking at the room through my camera has, literally, helped me to refocus. Megan and Ollie, the play . . . everything that happened is in the past. I need to keep focused on the present, and that means New York and Noah.
As my excitement starts to build, I feel the urge to dance. I grab the remote and turn on the TV. MTV is playing nonstop Christmas tunes. I start dancing around the room to “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” I dance and dance until I’ve shaken off the horrible residue from my dream. Then I collapse down onto my bed and grin at my doll.
“Happy Christmas,” I whisper to her breathlessly.
? ? ?
Thankfully, Elliot is back to his usual cheery self this morning.
“I’ve come up with a plan,” he whispers to me over the breakfast table, “a plan so dastardly that it would make the Riddler blush.”
“What is it?” I whisper back, pouring some maple syrup on my pancakes.
“It’s called Ten Ways to Ruin My Evil Parents’ Christmas,” he says with a glint in his eye. “By the time I’ve finished, they’re going to wish I was still here with you guys.”
I start to laugh. “What are you going to do?”
“Number one: tell them that I’ve decided to drop out of school and join a hippie commune. Number two: tell them that from now on I will only be answering to my new hippie name, Rain Water.”
By the time Elliot gets to number ten in his evil plan (“Tell them that I’ve got an American Hell’s Angel boyfriend called Hank”), we are both cracking up laughing. Mum and Dad, who’ve been busy talking about the plans for the party, are now staring at us.
“What’s so funny?” Dad says with a grin.
“I’m not sure I want to know,” Mum says.
“Trust me, you don’t,” I say, grinning at Elliot.
? ? ?
After breakfast, we leave our luggage with the hotel reception and take Elliot to the airport.
As the cab pulls into the terminal, I look at Elliot anxiously. “Will you be OK, flying on your own?”
He nods and grins. “Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to it. I think it will give me a real air of mystery. I can just imagine all the other passengers thinking to themselves, who is this young man, traveling alone? What could his story be?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, well, you’ve certainly dressed for the part.” Elliot is wearing his favorite vintage suit, a dark grey pinstripe, with polished brogues and a pocket watch on a chain—and his New York Yankees cap. Somehow, he manages to make this look totally cool.
Elliot gives me a hug. “I’m gonna miss you, Pen-face.”
“I’m gonna miss you too.”
“Enjoy your holiday romance.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“No, seriously.” Elliot pulls back and looks at me. “You deserve to have some fun after everything you’ve been through lately.”
I feel myself start to well up. “Thank you.”
“And I’m going to be demanding all of the deets as soon as you get back.”
I laugh and nod. “OK.”
And then Elliot’s flight is called. I watch him striding through the gate with a weird mixture of sadness at him leaving, and excitement at what is to come.
“You OK?” Dad says, hugging me to him.
I nod.