by Zoe Sugg
Mum clasps her hands together. “That’s wonderful! Tell me all about the production. Are you performing the classic version of the show?”
“It’s the classic version, but it’s abridged—unfortunately.”
Mum’s hand flies to her forehead in a dramatic swoon. “Abridged! A writer’s worst nightmare!”
“I know,” says Posey ruefully. “But it’s still a good show. Or, it will be, once Megan takes the lead.”
“I’m sorry?” Mum asks.
Posey turns her eyes to the ground and I put my hand on her shoulder. “Posey has really bad stage fright,” I say, “and I thought maybe it would help if you could talk to her?”
“Oh my, yes. I used to get so nervous, I would throw up before a performance. I can show you some breathing tricks if you want. Eventually though, I gave up performing,” says Mum, a little wistfully. I can see it’s not helping Posey though, so I give her a pleading look. She nods. “But, honey, lots of actors suffer from it, and they keep on performing! In France it’s called avoir le trac. I remember one of my best friends from that time, Éloïse, she used to have le trac until she learnt to picture the audience naked . . .”
Posey shudders. “Somehow, I don’t think I want to be picturing all the kids in our class naked. That just seems wrong.”
“Hmm, yes . . . that probably wouldn’t be the right way forward. Tell you what, I really should get in touch with Éloïse again. Maybe I’ll write to her and see if she has any tips for you?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Porter,” Posey says politely. I can tell that any hope she might have had of my mum being able to help has disappeared. Posey needs to speak to someone who’s overcome it and kept going.
“Yeah, thanks, Mum. I’m going to take Posey back home now. See you for dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Mum says with a smile. “I hope you like spaghetti bolognese?”
“I love it,” says Posey.
We take one last trip through the Lanes before hopping on a bus back to my house. “I’m sorry that talking to my mum wasn’t that helpful,” I say.
Posey smiles. “This is something I’ve been dealing with for so long now that I don’t expect an easy fix. Don’t worry, Penny, I didn’t come down here only because of that. I’m having a lot of fun.”
“Me too,” I say, matching her grin. But I’m determined not to give up. “I do have another idea, though. I have this blog online that I’ve had for a while. Whenever I have a problem, I always post on there and I always get really good advice back. Do you mind if I ask my readers for help?”
She shrugs. “That might work. But, honestly, there probably isn’t a ‘cure’ or ‘method’ that I haven’t already googled.”
“I know, but it might be worth a try, right?”
“Sounds good. What’s your blog?”
“It’s called Girl Online. It used to be anonymous, but then when all the stuff with Noah happened it kind of gave away who I am. Still, I’m glad. Some of the people I know through my blog have become some of my best friends—even though we haven’t met!”
“Oh, you’re so brave having a blog. Lots of people at school have them too, but I just can’t get my head round it. I just don’t think I’m the writing type.”
“No, you’re more the singing type!” I say with a laugh, and we jump off the bus, walk to my house and head upstairs.
“Wow, your room is awesome!” Posey gasps, as she takes in my cosy space in the attic.
“Thanks! I love it. It’s sort of like a Tardis.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s all these nooks and crannies and hidden spaces behind the panelling, and my best friend lives in the room that’s just the other side of this wall. So, even though it feels small, there’s more space here than you think.”
“You’re so lucky. I had to share a room with my sister until I got in to Madame Laplage. I really don’t want to leave there,” she says quietly.
I’m about to say something further, when Posey squeals. “Oh my god! Have you met Leah Brown?”
She’s staring at my mirror, where I have Leah’s album cover with my photo on it. She’s signed it too.
To Penny, who saw the real me. Big love, Leah.
“Yeah,” I say with a sheepish grin. “That photo is one I took of her in Rome.”
“You’re kidding! Isn’t this her new album? You took this?” Posey says breathlessly. “Wow, you’re so lucky. She’s, like, one of my idols.”
“She’s pretty great,” I say with a laugh. “And yes, weirdly that somehow happened!”
The rest of the evening passes in a whirl of laughter and stories. Mum grills Posey about the current theatre scene and regales us with stories from her Paris days. I learn more about eighteen-year-old Mum in one evening than I’ve known my whole life—and I’m not sure I was quite prepared for it.
After we drop Posey back off at the station and wave goodbye, we all wish she could have stayed longer. I turn to Mum. “Do you think she’s going to be OK?”
“I genuinely don’t know,” says Mum with a sigh. “I’ve known a few actresses who let stage fright ruin their careers. Éloïse managed to overcome it, but I don’t know how. It has to come from deep down inside, I think. There’s no easy fix.”
When I’m back in my room, I type up my post to Girl Online.
26 September
Girl Online Asks For Help: Stage Fright?
You know when people say “I’m asking for a friend,” but really they mean themselves? This isn’t one of those occasions for once. I really, genuinely, am asking for a friend. A new friend actually, who has brought a lot of positivity to my week. Don’t you just love it when you meet someone and you instantly click? I love spending those first few weeks messaging back and forth, learning the ins and outs of someone and building a friendship that you know is going to be so solid. It’s like your lives just piece together and you wonder how you lived before without them in it. Like they’ve always been a member of your girl gang but you didn’t know it yet. That’s the feeling I’ve been having when I met Musical Genius.
Now here’s the thing about MG. She’s landed a lead role in her school production (claps all round) but she suffers from stage fright. Although I have anxiety, stage fright isn’t something I can fully relate to. Unless of course you count the last time I was onstage and managed to flash my frayed knickers at the entire audience—let’s be honest, that’s enough to leave anyone frightened. I want to give her the advice she needs in order to feel a little better about it, but I’m struggling. I don’t know what it must be like to love doing something so much but feel like, no matter how hard you try, you can’t give it your all. She describes it to me like she’s standing on the stage, looking out into the audience ready to sing, but her tongue has disappeared from inside her mouth. Then the panic rises as she realizes nothing is coming out and suddenly she’s frozen to the spot and the audience are a pack of lions, baring their sharp teeth in slow motion.
I’d love to know if any of you suffer from stage fright and, if you do or if you’ve overcome it, please leave me any tips that I can pass on to my friend. I also think it would really help other readers too. I can’t let MG pass up on something I know is a huge dream of hers just because her mind won’t cooperate at that very moment she needs it to most.
Girl Online, going offline xxx
Almost instantly, I get a direct message on Twitter from Pegasus Girl.
Hey Penny! I just read your latest post in my BlogLovin’ feed . . . Have you spoken to Leah Brown about how she overcame her stage fright? xx
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Leah?
No? I didn’t even know she had stage fright!
Oh yeah! I read about it in an interview with her in Teen Vogue. She didn’t go into a lot of detail, but you could tell just from the short snippet that it was a big deal for her.
I think of how Posey’s face lit up when she saw Leah Brown’s album cover in my room and found out I knew her. And if she�
��only the biggest female pop star of the moment—once struggled with stage fright too, then maybe there is something I can do to help.
My fingers itching with excitement, I open a new window to compose an email. I write to Leah.
From: Penny Porter
To: Leah Brown
Leah!!
Hope you’re well. I saw your pics on Instagram of your Australia holiday—it looked amazing. Jealous much?!
Things are pretty same old, same old (still no news from Noah—don’t suppose you’ve heard anything?) but I do have a favour to ask . . . I’ve met a friend here who’s studying to do musical theatre. She has an amazing voice but also suffers from terrible stage fright. I heard you went through something similar . . . Is there any way you can give me some tips to pass on?
Love and huge hugs,
Pen xxx
Chapter Thirteen
When I wake up in the morning, I roll over onto my tummy and grab my phone from where it’s been charging on my bedside table. It looks like it’s been busy overnight. There’s a message from Megan that just says “Call me,” a ton of notifications letting me know there are comments on Girl Online, and also an email reply from Leah. She’s several hours behind in Los Angeles, so she must’ve had time to reply overnight. I open that first.
From: Leah Brown
To: Penny Porter
Hey!! So great to hear from you! No news from N I’m afraid
Actually, I can do you one better than just tips. I’m gonna be in London on Saturday, recording with one of my favorite producers. Why don’t you and your friend drop by? I’d love to see you and help if I can.
L xxx
It’s even better than I could’ve hoped. I roll over to the other side of the bed and knock five times on the adjoining wall between my bedroom and Elliot’s, part of our code for when we want to get each other’s attention—it’s even better than a text message. When he doesn’t reply right away I knock again, even firmer this time. Finally, I hear two lazy knocks back. I check the time. It’s ten a.m. It’s not too early to be waking Elliot, but I know he still might be a bit grumpy when he comes round.
I throw on my comfy towelled dressing gown, clip up my knotted bed hair, then write her a reply.
From: Penny Porter
To: Leah Brown
Yesss!! Can’t wait to see you. And thank you so, so much for this. On such short notice too. Did I ever tell you that you’re the best?
P x
Then, I have someone else to tell. I check my WhatsApp and see that she’s online, so I send her a message.
Posey, hey!
Hey Penny! That’s so weird . . . I was just thinking about you
SNAP! In fact, I have something to ask you. Are you free next Saturday morning, 10ish?
Uh . . . you have me worried now! But yes, I think so! I have rehearsals in the afternoon, but before that is fine. Why?!?
You may think I’m kind of crazy but I want it to be a surprise. I think I might really have found someone to help you with your stage fright. Meet me outside Victoria Station at 10 next Saturday?
Penny . . . it’s really nice of you to want to help me, but I’ve tried what feels like everything to get over this. It might just be better for me to accept that this is my reality. I can’t do it, and I won’t ever be able to
I pause for a moment, not sure how to respond. I can recognize in her words all the familiar feelings I get when I am overwhelmed by anxiety—the idea that nothing will ever change, and that I will never be able to live a normal life because of it. For Posey, I know it must be even worse, because the thing she loves doing most is also the source of her biggest anxiety. But if my therapist has taught me anything, it’s that it’s always worth trying.
You could be right. But if you’re still willing to try, will you meet me?
There’s a long pause from her this time, and I stare at the word “typing . . .” that’s appeared underneath her name, waiting for the reply to come.
OK, let’s do this. It can’t get any worse, right?
:D Yay! I’ll see you then
“What’s the big news?” It’s Elliot, framed in the doorway of my bedroom. He’s also wearing a dressing gown and slippers, bleary-eyed and with his hair sticking out all over the place. He very rarely lets anyone see him like this, but he looks so adorable. He bounces down onto the bottom of my bed.
“Leah’s coming to town next week! Pegasus Girl told me that Leah had stage fright once, so I’m going to take Posey to meet her.”
“Only you have a world-famous pop star willing to help you out at the drop of a hat,” he says, with a wink. “What does Megan think about all this?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she’s going to kill you if she finds out you’ve arranged for someone else to meet Leah Brown before her.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Oh yeah . . .” I think about her blunt message: “Call me.” But there’s no way she’d know that I’ve arranged to meet Leah already. It must be about something else. “What if I invite her along? Then she won’t hate me.”
Elliot wrinkles his nose. “True. Megan’s far from my favourite person—”
“That’s an understatement.”
“—but she’s not stupid. She’ll be so thrilled to meet LB she’ll forgive you anything. I mean, knowing her, we can expect her to turn this whole thing into her charity project, but who cares.”
“Phew, OK. I feel better now.”
“You better tell her before she finds out through the grapevine, though. I’m going downstairs to see if your dad will make us Sunday pancakes. I’m like Linda Evangelista—it’s just not worth getting out of bed for anything less than five pancakes stacked with maple syrup. Plus, I haven’t done my hair and feel a mess. Only pancakes will make it worthwhile.”
“I think for the supermodels in the nineties it was ten thousand dollars . . .”
“When it comes to your dad’s pancakes, same difference.” Elliot jumps back off the bed and heads downstairs.
I have a bad feeling about Megan’s message, but I try not to assume too much before I’ve spoken to her. I hit the FaceTime button under her contact page on my phone.
Within a few rings, she’s answered. She’s already in full makeup, her hair artfully sculpted into glossy waves round her face. Compared to me—no makeup and bed-head hair—she’s distinctly glamorous for a Sunday morning. The only thing marring her appearance is the grumpy look on her face. My stomach does a flip. Maybe my instincts weren’t too far off after all.
“Penny,” she says, her mouth a firm line.
“Hey, Megan,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “What’s up? I got your message.”
“Yeah. So, what was your blog about?”
“My blog?”
“You know, the one about stage fright? What’s going on?”
“Oh.” I pause for a second. I hadn’t technically told Megan about meeting Posey—there hadn’t been a good moment. I didn’t mean to hide it from her, but also I hadn’t been in a rush to tell her. “When I was up visiting you, I met this girl, Posey . . .”
“You mean Posey Chang, the girl who’s playing the lead role.”
“Yeah . . . She was really upset and we bonded over anxiety, so I thought I’d try to help her out.”
“What, so are you, like, trying to ruin my life?”
I frown. “No. I’m just—”
“Just trying to make sure the person I’m the understudy for doesn’t drop out of the role that’s rightfully mine?”
“Well, it’s not rightfully yours if—”
Megan steamrollers right over me. “What are you thinking? I thought you were supposed to be my friend?”
“I am your friend, Megan, but I’m also now Posey’s friend. And anyway, I had something I wanted to ask you.”
“Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“It’s about Leah Brown. She’s coming to town next Saturday and wants to meet up at her studio.
She said I could bring friends, so . . .”
Like a dark grey cloud splitting apart to reveal bright sunshine, a huge smile appears on Megan’s face. “Can I come? Seriously?”
I can’t help laughing at her change in demeanour. “I mean, if you aren’t ignoring me that is.”
“Oh my god, Penny, all is forgiven! I promise!”
“Well, don’t promise yet. I’m also inviting Posey along. Do you think you can be OK with that?”
The cloud passes over Megan’s face once again, anger like a flash of lightning in her eyes, but then it goes. By the time I’ve blinked, she looks serene again. “You’re just too nice,” she says, her voice all sugar. “But wait, isn’t Saturday your date with Callum?”
“I don’t think it’s technically a date . . . but yeah,” I say, a blush rising in my cheeks. I’d kind of put that to the back of my mind. “But that’s in the afternoon. I have the morning free. I was going to meet Posey at ten.”
“It’s definitely a date with Callum, Penny. Why don’t you text me the address of Leah’s studio and I can bring Posey, then we can just meet you there?”
“OK,” I say. “Just remember—it’s a surprise for Posey so don’t tell her where we’re going.”
“Brilliant! Can’t wait till Saturday. Oh my god, what do you wear when you’re about to meet your idol? I need to go shopping. You rock, Miss P.” She hangs up the phone.
I head downstairs, still feeling in a daze.
“How’d it go?” asks Elliot, already with a mouthful of pancake.
I blink several times. “I actually have no idea. But I think I managed to make everyone happy.”
Elliot fixes me with his most grown-up stare from beneath his tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses. “Penny, you know that’s impossible.”
“I know. But I still have to try. I just can’t help myself.”
Chapter Fourteen
The days disappear in a blink, a whirlwind of schoolwork, chats with Posey, and dinners with Sadie Lee and Bella. Since starting sixth form, my workload seems to have increased immensely—even the stress of GCSEs doesn’t compare to the looming pressure of A levels. I welcome the distraction, though. If I wasn’t nervous when I texted Callum, the thought of going on a real, actual date has sent my nerves into overdrive. Plus, I want everything to go well with Leah Brown, Posey, and Megan.