by Zoe Sugg
I need a test model.
“Uh, Alice?” I walk back to the front desk, but Alice is nowhere to be seen—and neither is Talia. I debate going back to ask Megan to pose for me, but I want a break from her.
There’s only one option: I’m going to have to do it myself.
The thought makes me shiver. I don’t like being in front of the camera—I like being behind it. But this is just a test shot, I tell myself. I can always delete it straight away.
With a few button clicks, I set the self-timer on my DSLR. Then, I grab my laptop out of my bag—if there’s one thing I hate even more than being on camera, it’s having to look at the camera—and jump up on the sofa. I open up my laptop and pretend to be working until I hear the beep signalling that the photo has been taken.
Of course, in “pretending” to work, I actually do open up my browser and check on the comments for Girl Online. I have a post brewing in my mind for later tonight, but I still have to see how the rest of the session goes with Leah. I haven’t written about Callum yet—I don’t want to jinx anything—and it’s more difficult now that people I know (including Callum himself) will be reading and analysing every word. Before I know it, I’m sucked into the comments section—which, luckily, on my blog, is really supportive and lovely. I’ve worked really hard to maintain that atmosphere and keep Girl Online a safe space for my readers.
My blog once was a source of such anxiety for me, I wanted to shut it down for good. But now I know that it can be a force for good. I hope Posey realizes that too, eventually, about her stage fright.
When I’m finished with the comments, I’ve been sitting there for much longer than I intended. I rush back to the screen to see how the photo turned out. And, in fact, I’m pleasantly surprised. There’s a weird effect in the photo—because of the way I held my laptop, it looks like the parallelogram on the floor is a shadow of it—or rather, a reverse shadow, as if the laptop itself is casting light. I was right, the lighting is a little harsh on my face—but contrasted against the white wall, it looks kind of edgy. My eyes are glued to the computer screen, and if I zoom in close enough, there’s even a little reflection of the laptop in my pupils. It looks . . . unique.
Uniquely Penny. A shot of me, doing something else I love.
A tingly feeling runs through the palms of my hands, all the way up to my heart. I think I might be onto something there.
Chapter Sixteen
“Hey, what are you doing?”
The voice startles me, and I look up to see Megan standing at the top of the stairs.
“Oh, I was just checking a test photo for later. All looking good!” and I give her a thumbs up.
“Do you know where the bathrooms are?” she asks.
“Just over there, I think.”
“Cool.”
I leave the camera in place but head back down the stairs. When I reach the studio I’m surprised to hear Leah finishing up a song that I haven’t heard before, and I feel disappointed that I’ve missed listening to her new music. A few moments later, Megan walks back in. “You just missed Leah singing her new stuff!” I say.
“Oh darn,” she says, but she doesn’t seem that disappointed herself. She sits down, picks up her phone and starts playing Candy Crush Saga.
I sigh, spinning round until I’m facing Leah and Posey in the live room again. I wish I hadn’t invited Megan. She’s been nothing but bad news ever since she arrived at the studio.
“I can’t wait to be doing this one day,” Megan says, oblivious to my annoyance. “Can you ask Leah if she’ll listen to me sing too? Maybe she can introduce me to her manager.”
“Ask her yourself,” I say, then close my eyes and listen to another of Leah’s new songs. It’s different from her previous stuff—less “poppy,” with a darker sound—but still catchy as ever. When the chorus comes again, I can already feel my brain latching onto the lyrics. Leah knows exactly what makes great music.
When she and Posey return to the control room, Megan and I clap wildly again. “That was so great!” I say to Leah. “Did you write that last one?”
To my surprise, Leah cringes. “Yeah—is it OK? I wrote these myself. I’m trying to do more and more songwriting on my albums.”
“It’s brilliant,” I say with a smile.
“Phew. I have Carmen Delaware coming in tomorrow to sing with me and I want it to be good.”
Megan looks up from her phone sharply. “Carmen Delaware? But isn’t she, like . . . your sworn enemy?” Carmen is another pop star but from the UK, not America, who emerged on the scene about the same time as Leah.
Leah throws her head back and laughs. “Are you kidding? Carmen and I go waaay back—it’s only the media that likes to pit us against each other. I could not have gotten where I am today without her. I’m pretty sure it was she who gave me the tree speech before I gave it to you.”
“What about when she won Best Song at the BBMAs before you? Didn’t you hate that?” Megan asks, referring to one of the most recent media headlines about Leah. “And that song of hers, ‘Knock You Down,’ isn’t that about you?”
“Geez, I hope not! It was written about her accountant who embezzled funds from her music sales. But I can see that it’s more fun to think that it was about me.”
I spot a dangerous wrinkle in Megan’s nose—meaning she’s still sceptical—but I interrupt before it can turn even more heated. “Want to follow me upstairs, guys? I’ve set up the tripod so we can get some really nice pictures.”
“Awesome! Let’s do it!”
But as we walk up the stairs together, Megan still can’t drop it. “I just can’t believe it about you and Carmen. How can you like her when she has everything you want, always one step ahead of you? She soloed her first tour before you, went platinum before you, won that award . . .”
“Wow, you sure do know a lot about me and Carmen.”
“I watch a lot of TMZ,” Megan says with a shrug.
Leah doesn’t say anything until we reach the white sofas, then she positions herself in front of my camera. Then, her steel-blue eyes meet Megan’s, and I know that look all too well. You do not want to be its recipient. “Look, I think you have an important lesson to learn. You have to stop looking sideways all the time—at Penny, at Posey—and start focusing on your own lane. Carmen’s success does not impact me or detract from what I’ve achieved. I love that she’s done so well, and hope that she continues to hit those milestones! I know that I’ll get there one day too. She’s paving the way for me, not building a wall I can’t climb. This is still a tough industry. We girls have to look out for one another. Whether it’s in the Top Forty charts, in the blogging world, or . . . in a drama school show. Right, Penny?”
“Right,” I say firmly. Thank goodness Leah is able to put Megan in her place.
Megan clenches her fingers and I swear I can hear her mind whirring away like an overheating hard drive. “I know that!” she says. “But it’s not my fault if she’s a hopeless case.”
“I’m not sure you know anything,” says Leah, a sad smile on her face. “But you’ll learn. Without support from your peers and you supporting them in turn, you won’t get very far in this industry. Trust me. And if you’re not willing to support your classmate then I think you should leave my studio now.”
Megan’s jaw drops and bright red spots appear on her cheeks. “Fine. Some of us don’t need to ride on other people’s coattails to get to the top.” She gets up, spins on her heels and flounces out.
Even though I don’t agree with what she said, I want to run after her to make sure she’s OK, but Leah puts her hand on my arm. “She’s a big girl and she’ll be OK. Talia will put her safely in a taxi, so you don’t need to worry about her getting home.” She turns to Posey. “Ready for our close-up with the best photographer in the biz, hon?”
Taking pictures of Leah and Posey is great, and they seem to really get on well. As they chat, I pull out my laptop again. Leah’s speech has really inspired me, and
I know that it would make a great short but sweet blog post. I’m itching to send out her message to my Girl Online readers.
3 October
Someone Else’s Success Is NOT Your Failure
Have you ever aced an exam with flying colours, but the girl who sits opposite you gets a higher mark? And even though you feel you put in more effort, it didn’t pay off?
Have you ever worked hard for a job, working your fingers to the bone, but someone else gets the pay rise you think you deserved?
Have you ever stayed up all night creating something you’re so proud of, but someone else comes along with something even better, claiming to have spent no time on it at all?
It happens sometimes, and let’s be honest—we all go green-eyed-monster and wish we had someone else’s luck or talent or drive. When you work in the same industry as someone, doing the same things, full of the same passions, their success can really knock you back if you feel you aren’t quite in the same lane and going the same speed.
What if, whenever I read someone else’s blog and it’s good, I say, “Hey, mine isn’t as good as that, so I hate this other blog because it’s getting more hits than mine.” What exactly would that achieve? There’s enough room for everyone to do the thing they’re good at. There’ll always be someone who is more successful than you, but always someone who wishes they were as successful as you too. Everybody wants to succeed, but we don’t need to isolate ourselves with jealousy in the process. One thing I’ve learnt recently is that blowing out someone else’s candle doesn’t make yours shine any brighter.
As a very wise friend of mine would say: Focus on your own lane, go at your own pace, don’t look sideways. Someone else’s success does not have to impact you or detract from what YOU achieve.
A little Saturday thought for you.
Girl Online, going offline xxx
When we leave the studio, Posey gives me a giant hug. “Thank you for this. It was really special. And . . . I promise not to give up. Even if it’s not this show, not this role, I’ll keep trying.”
I grin. “I think that’s all I can ask for!” I look down at the time—it’s almost 1 p.m., the time when I agreed to meet Callum.
“You OK, Penny? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“It’s not that, but I think I have . . . a date to go to!”
Chapter Seventeen
Standing outside St. James’s Park station, I fidget with the straps on my dungarees. I kind of wish I’d worn something a bit more fitting so I didn’t look three sizes bigger than I actually am. I keep looking over my shoulder, wondering if it would be too rude to bail. Memories of every terrible date I’ve ever had come rushing back—and how awkward I was with Oli when I had a crush on him. That was the period of my life I’d designated BN—Before Noah. Penny BN was not a cool cucumber. She lacked knowledge of guys and relationships, she’d never been kissed properly, and she cowered away in the corner when Robbie Williams’s “Angels” came on at the end of the awful school discos Megan dragged her along to.
A hand taps me on the shoulder before I can make any sort of decision. I look up and a goofy grin appears on my face. Callum’s just as cute as I remember, and he really seems to have made an effort for today. He’s got a preppy blazer on over a patterned shirt, and khaki slacks. The only thing that’s out of place is a heavy backpack, which I recognize as a Lowepro brand camera bag. Swanky.
“Hey, Penny!” He reaches over and gives me a kiss on the cheek, which I am not prepared for.
“Callum, hi!” I take a step back and my foot catches on my loose shoelace. I lose my balance, limbs flailing, but Callum reaches out and grabs my upper arm to steady me.
“Don’t fall head over heels for me right away. Give it until the end of the date at least,” he says with a laugh.
“You’ll learn that, for me, sometimes standing still isn’t the easiest thing.”
“I want to learn everything about you,” he says with a dreamy smile.
I don’t really know what to say to this, so I leave the uncomfortable silence hanging for a moment before recovering myself. “So . . . where are we off to?”
From behind his back, Callum produces a beautiful dove-grey hamper. “I thought, since it’s a nice day, maybe we head to the park for a picnic?”
I release a breath I didn’t even realize I’ve been holding. For some reason, I’d been waiting to be disappointed by his choice of date. But there’s no disappointment. A picnic is the perfect low-key first date. “That sounds amazing!” I say.
“Great!” He holds out his hand, and I take it.
The park is beautiful at this time of year, with the leaves only just beginning to change colour, but the air is still plenty warm enough to sit outside without worrying.
“Did you have a good morning?” Callum asks, oddly formal in his chat. His accent still makes me smile. I also get the sense that the picnic basket is rather heavy, as he’s walking with a slight tilt to one side.
“Oh yes, thank you.” For some reason, I feel like I need to be formal back. I wish we could just skip to the part where we’re comfortable with each other, but I know it doesn’t work that way. Except with Noah, an annoying part of my brain says. “I went to see my friend, who’s a singer. Leah Brown?”
Callum laughs. “Oh, just casually throw in a name-drop, why don’t you! I saw a friend too, but unfortunately it was just my flatmate in his pants.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of clothes?”
“Not on weekends! Unless we have a date with a hottie, of course. Want to take a walk round the lake before we eat?”
I’m about to answer when my stomach lets out an enormous, very un-“hottie”-like grumble. I’d forgotten that I hadn’t really eaten anything since a very quick cereal bar this morning.
“I’ll take that as a no then!” Callum says with a laugh.
Inside, I cringe. Why can’t my body just behave normally in a date-like situation?! “Do you mind?” I ask in a small voice.
He releases my hand and instead throws his arm round my shoulder, pulling me in close to him. “Don’t you worry, Penny. How about that spot over there?”
I follow the line of his finger to a patch of grass beneath an oak tree, already strewn with orangey-red fallen leaves. It looks perfect and really romantic. In fact, not too far away, I spot a couple having what looks like an engagement shoot. They’re sitting on the grass, back-to-back, two hands posed together in the shape of a heart. It looks cute, but it wouldn’t be my style of photography. I prefer capturing more candid moments, natural shots that really show how a couple are together.
Seeing the photographer at work, though, inspires me. “Hang on a second,” I say. I take my camera out of my bag and take a snap of the tree and the couple. From this angle, I can’t see their cheesy pose—they just look relaxed.
“Of course! I should have known you would want to preserve this moment.”
“I’ll put it away soon.”
“No, don’t! I like seeing you take photos. What lens do you have?” Callum places the hamper down on the ground and I pass him my camera. He turns it round in his hands, examining my lenses, then looks through the viewfinder.
“Oh, this is a nice piece of kit. But have you thought about upgrading to the 5D mark 3 model?” he asks.
I smile. “Well, I would, but that’s way out of my budget. I’d love to get the wide-angle 16-35mm, but that would be, like, three Christmas presents and a birthday.”
He nods, then passes the camera back to me. It’s fun having someone to geek out with about photography. Callum’s so different from Noah, who wouldn’t know a macro from a zoom lens. Callum spreads the picnic blanket over the bed of leaves. I sit down on the edge and watch as he carefully sets out a delicious array of sandwiches.
“Wow, this all looks amazing! And are those scones?”
“You better believe it.”
“Where does a seventeen-year-old Scotsman find scones nowada
ys, anyway?”
Callum winks. “Let a man have his tricks.” After the scones, he pulls out what looks like a half-sized bottle of cava.
“Oh, I’m sorry—I don’t drink,” I say quickly, cringing inside at how young I must sound. “It doesn’t go down too well with my anxiety stuff,” I say, rushing into my excuses even before he’s asked for one.
“Really?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Not even if I mix it with some orange juice?”
“I’d rather not, if that’s OK.” I feel goosebumps begin to prickle along my arm—I wish he would just drop it already.
Thankfully, he shrugs, and puts the bottle back in the hamper. Lastly, he’s even remembered to pack paper plates and cutlery. He sets out a plate for me, positioning each item of food perfectly.
“So, you were in Rome over the summer, eh? I love it there.” He passes me my plate. The sandwiches look almost too pretty to eat. Then I remember my rumbling stomach. Almost. I pop one in my mouth practically whole, then I have to chew awkwardly until I’m ready to talk.
“Oh yeah, it was great. The ice cream especially was whoa.”
“Do you like to travel then?”
“I like travel, but not travelling, if that makes sense. I want to see all the amazing places in the world, but getting on a plane is . . .” I shiver even though it’s not cold.
“Don’t you wish you could just click your fingers and be there?”
“That’s exactly right!” I say with a smile.
“I feel that about the long journey back home. I wish Scotland wasn’t so far away. Have you ever been?”
“No, but I’m going during half-term actually!”
Callum’s eyebrows rise towards his hairline. “You are? What part? Edinburgh?”
I shake my head. “No, somewhere in the Highlands—Castle Lochland. Have you heard of it? My mum is an event planner and runs her own wedding shop down in Brighton. She’s doing a big wedding up there and I’m going to go help her out.”
“You’re joking,” Callum says, his mouth dropping open. There’s a piece of chewed-up sandwich inside that I can’t stop staring at—ew.