by Zoe Sugg
I shake my head. Even though I am one of the unluckiest, most accident-prone people on the planet, I really think having my hotel room randomly bombed would be a step too far.
“It’s not a bomb,” Dad says. “It’s probably been left there by accident. We can call down to Reception and see if they know anything about it. Oh . . .”
I watch as Dad picks up the box. “What is it?”
“It is for you—look.”
Instantly, my heart begins to pound. Could it be from Noah? Who else knows I’m here?
I go over to Dad and take the box from him. The handwritten label on the top says, To Penny, Happy You-Know-What Day! N
“Who’s it from?” Dad says, looking suspicious.
“Noah,” I mutter, my cheeks immediately flushing red.
“Who?” Dad says.
“Noah,” I repeat.
“Yes, I got that, but Noah who?”
“He’s Sadie Lee’s grandson,” Mum explains. “Penny went with him to get the replacement tiara today.”
“So, what’s in the box?” Dad asks, raising his eyebrows.
“I don’t know,” I reply. They all stare at me, waiting for me to open it.
“I’m going to go to bed,” I say. “I’m feeling really tired.”
Dad looks at Mum and raises his eyebrows again. She smiles at him and shakes her head as if to say, it’s OK. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“See you guys in the morning,” I say, quickly getting my key card from my bag.
“Yes, bright and early,” Mum says.
“But—” Elliot begins.
“Night!” I say, and I slip through my door and shut it behind me before any of them can say another word.
My heart’s still pounding: what could it be? I check my phone to see if Noah’s texted but there’s nothing. I open the top of the box and peer inside. I see a load of silky auburn hair and I gasp—the doll!
I also notice an envelope taped to the inside of the lid. I open it and pull out a note.
Dear Penny,
So, I went back to the store and just as I was walking past the doll she told me that it is her greatest dream to be adopted by a kindhearted British girl with really cute hair and freckles just like hers. It was such a heartfelt plea that I just couldn’t resist—even though it meant having to talk to the Store Owner from Unfriendly Hell twice in one day. This time he said to me, “Son, don’t you think you’re a little too old to be playing with dolls?” I told him I hoped that one day I’d be just the right age for something—marriage, dolls, whatever. He wasn’t amused.
I’ve also enclosed a piece of Sadie Lee’s famous devil’s food cake ( just to make sure you stick to the Magical Mystery rules and have cake with every meal).
N
I pull out the doll and a huge slab of cake wrapped in silver foil. I sit the doll on my pillow. She already looks so much happier, gazing at me through her glassy green eyes. Then I get that fluttery feeling again and all of the stress of the evening begins to fade. Noah really is lovely and he really does like me. I hadn’t imagined our connection after all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m just about to text Noah when I hear a gentle tapping on the adjoining door.
“Pen, can I come in?” I hear Elliot call.
“Of course,” I reply.
The door opens and Elliot pads over to me. He’s wearing his pajamas, a backward Yankees cap, and no glasses, which makes his face look even thinner.
“Hi,” he says, scanning the bed, obviously looking to see what was in the box. His gaze falls on the doll. “No way!” he exclaims. “Is that what he sent you?”
I nod and, even though I’m trying to play it cool, my mouth involuntarily curls into a grin.
“She’s beautiful!” Elliot sits down on the bed and picks up the doll.
“I know. We saw her in the vintage store earlier—when we went to pick up the tiara. I told him how abandoned toys always make me sad. He sent a note saying she wanted me to adopt her.” My face flushes with embarrassment and I wait for Elliot to make some kind of mocking comment, but he doesn’t. He just keeps on smiling at the doll and smoothing down her hair.
“Look at the dress. It must be Victorian. Do you know how much it cost?”
I shake my head.
“It won’t have been cheap. This is no Barbie, my dear.”
“I know.”
“Oh my God! Did he send you that cake too?” Elliot’s eyes go even wider as he spots the devil’s food cake.
“Yes. His grandma made it. She’s an amazing cook.”
Elliot puts the doll back on the pillow and smiles at me. “OK, OK, I’m starting to see why it was love at first sight. Go on then.”
“What?”
“Tell me all about it.”
So we get under the duvet, and I tell him all about my magical day with Noah. When I get to the bit about his hand brushing mine, Elliot actually starts waving his hands up and down in excitement. I decide against telling him about the inciting incident, though—I want to keep that just between me and Noah.
“Holy swoon-gate!” Elliot exclaims when I finally get to the end of my tale. “If that’s what Brooklyn boys are like I’m emigrating as soon as possible!”
I laugh and break off a piece of Sadie Lee’s cake and pop it into my mouth. It’s so soft it feels like velvet on my tongue.
“I’m sorry I was such a grump earlier,” Elliot says. “I totally get why you were so excited now.”
As soon as he says this, I think of my blog post. In all of the excitement of the special delivery from Noah, I completely forgot to delete it.
“That’s OK,” I say. “I should have told you before I blogged about it.”
We look at each other and grin and I’m filled with a wave of relief that everything is back to normal between us.
“OK, I’m going to let you get some sleep,” Elliot says, getting up from the bed. “You’ve got a big day ahead.”
“I’m really sorry. I’ve hardly got to hang out with you.”
“That’s OK. I’ve been having a great time with your dad and tomorrow we’re going to the Statue of Liberty and on a ghost tour.”
“A ghost tour?”
“Yep. It’s going to be epic—it even includes a visit to the hidden tomb of twenty thousand yellow-fever victims.”
I start to laugh. “Cool . . . I think.”
As soon as Elliot’s gone back to his room, I pick up my phone and a blanket from the bed and go over to the armchair by the window. Once again, the view takes my breath away. And once again I get that can-this-really-be-happening-to-me feeling. I wrap the blanket around me and snuggle into the chair. Then I click on Noah’s number and press call. With every long purr of the American ring tone, my nervousness ramps up a notch. Thankfully, he answers it after just three.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey. Thank you so much for the doll.” I feel awkward all of a sudden, too formal, too polite.
“You’re very welcome. So, tell me, Miss Penny, are you by a window right now?”
“Yes! Right by one.”
“Have you seen the moon?”
“No, hang on.” I open my window and peer out. A huge, perfectly round moon is suspended right over the Empire State Building. But it’s not the size or shape that takes my breath away, it’s the color. It’s glowing bright amber. “Oh my God, it looks amazing! Why’s it so orange?”
“Well, I thought it might have been spray-painted by aliens or something but, according to Sadie Lee, it’s something to do with pollution in the atmosphere.”
“Oh. I think I prefer the alien theory.”
“Me too. So listen. Given that you appear to have done something very strange to me—”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t exactly make a habit of buying china dolls, you know?”
I laugh.
“I think it only right and fair that you see me one more time before you go,�
� he continues.
“I’d love to—but when?”
“How about I swing by after the reception? Sadie Lee says it’ll all be over by midnight. I have something really cool planned.”
I instantly think of my parents. Somehow I hardly see them letting me head off into New York at midnight with a boy I’ve only just met.
“And don’t worry—we won’t be leaving the hotel,” Noah says, as if reading my mind.
“I’d love to.” I say it so quickly the words practically blur into one. I wrap the blanket more tightly around me and imagine that I’m in Noah’s arms.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Noah says softly.
“Yes. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Penny.”
“Goodnight, Noah.”
I put down my phone and take a deep breath. Then I look out onto the New York skyline and gaze up at the incredible moon. I feel so different—and it’s not just about meeting Noah or being in New York. It’s that for the first time ever I feel as if my life is my own—that I’m in charge of my own destiny. I’m no longer just reacting to what everyone else does or says. With Noah as my inciting incident, I’m finally writing my own script.
Chapter Twenty-Five
When I wake up the next day, I have that Christmas-morning feeling. Like I know before I’ve even opened my eyes that something really lovely is going to happen before I’ve remembered what it is. And then, in seconds, it all comes flooding back. Noah—I’m going to see Noah. I open my eyes and see the doll staring right at me. She’s fallen over in the night and is now lying facing me on the pillow.
“Good morning!” I say to her, because I’m so overexcited I’ll even talk to a doll. “Did you sleep well?”
I imagine the doll saying, “No actually, I slept terribly because my eyes are glued open. How would you sleep if your eyes were glued open?”
OK, I need to get up.
I have a shower, then I sit cross-legged on my bed with a towel around my wet hair and open my laptop. I feel really nervous as I wait for my blog to load. What if my readers thought my last post was stupid and over-the-top? What if I’ve got some negative comments?
But I needn’t have worried—the comments are all even lovelier than ever, most of them containing little red heart emoticons and demands for more details about Brooklyn Boy.
I’m just about to see if Elliot is awake when I get a text message. Please, please, please be from Noah, I silently plead. As I pick up my phone, I notice the doll gazing at me from where I’ve sat her up on the pillow. “Oh, purlease,” I imagine her saying. I take a deep breath and try to be cool, but as soon as I see that the text is from Noah, the fluttering begins.
I dreamed that I was taking you all around New York and every place we visited turned into cake. What could this mean?! N
I quickly text back.
That you’ve been struck by the Curse of Magical Mystery Day . . . ? Sounds amazing, though. Imagine if the Empire State Building turned into cake!
Have you looked outside yet?
No, why? Has the moon turned green?
I go over to the window and pull back the curtain. Feathery flakes of snow are tumbling from the sky. The buildings down below look as if they’ve been sprinkled in icing sugar.
Oh wow—it looks so beautiful!
Yep—now it feels like Christmas! Have a great day and see you at midnight!
You too!
Even though I think it’s going to be the slowest, dullest day in history because I’m so excited to see Noah, the wedding is actually really good fun. As the guests start to arrive, the suite becomes more and more like Downton Abbey. The men look so handsome in their black and grey dress suits with their hair all slicked back. And the women look stunning. Every twenties-style dress is a work of art, made from satin and lace and the most intricate beading, all in the most beautiful muted shades like lavender, emerald, and plum. Even the children are in costume, looking just like china dolls in their ruffles and buttoned-up boots. I can’t help feeling a bit wistful as I look down at my own servant’s costume—a plain, starchy black A-line dress with an even starchier white apron over the top of it.
While the professional photographer takes some posed shots of the groomsmen and the guests, I sneak around with my much smaller camera, taking impromptu shots. I get a few lovely close-ups of the detail on some of the dresses and a super-cute shot of two of the flower girls whispering in each other’s ear. Then, just as someone announces the bride’s arrival and the guests all rush to their seats, I take a really romantic picture of Jim at the top of the aisle, looking so nervous and hopeful and handsome as he waits for Cindy to appear.
In the end, they decide not to put on British accents to read their vows, which I’m really glad about. The vows are so beautifully written and heartfelt. They’ve added in all these really fun, personal details like Cindy promising not to moan about Jim watching baseball and Jim promising to learn to love reality TV. By the time the ceremony’s over, I’m a gooey emotional wreck.
As the guests all start tucking into the wedding breakfast, Mum pulls me over to one side. Her eyes are bright and sparkly and she’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Pen, you’ll never guess what! I’ve been asked if I’ll theme a party. Here in New York.”
“What? When?”
“Next week.” Mum looks over at the head table. “You know the maid of honor—the big lady with all the hair?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s her thirtieth birthday on the day before New Year’s Eve and she’s asked if I’ll help her organize a mods-and-rockers theme for it.”
“Wow! But—but we’re flying home tomorrow. How are you going to do it?” I get a horrible sinking feeling at the prospect of Mum staying here and us all having Christmas at home without her.
“She’s said she’ll pay for us to all stay on longer—to have Christmas and New Year in New York. And they’ll pay for us to rearrange our flights too. These people are seriously rich, Pen, money’s no object to them.”
I stay rooted to the spot as I try to process the news. “We’re going to stay here for Christmas?”
Mum nods. “Yes. I’ve called your dad and he’s fine about it.”
As soon as I start feeling excited, my brain instantly starts searching for reasons why this can’t possibly happen—why it has to be too good to be true. “But what about Tom? And what about Elliot?”
“Elliot can stay too,” Mum says with a smile. “Well, hopefully he can; I’ll need to call his parents. And Tom will be fine. He texted me this morning asking if he can spend Christmas with Melanie and her family.”
I’m now so excited I feel like dancing the conga all the way through the dining room. I don’t, though, because there are way too many trip hazards.
I’ll be spending Christmas and New Year in New York. I’ll be able to see Noah. My life cannot possibly get any better.
“And Sadie Lee has invited us to spend Christmas with her, at her home in Brooklyn,” Mum says, instantly proving me wrong. My life can and did just get a trillion times better.
• • •
Elliot and Dad join us for the evening reception. Elliot looks amazing in a vintage suit and cravat. I look down at my servant’s attire and sigh. It’s hardly what I’d have chosen to see Noah in—I feel so dowdy, but at least I look in character. We all gather around as Cindy and Jim start their first dance together as husband and wife. Cindy has changed into a stunning twenties flapper dress. It’s made of shimmering silver-blue satin, which changes color in the twinkling lights like a moonstone. As I watch the band play the opening chords of “Unchained Melody,” my skin tingles as I think back to yesterday, when I first spotted Noah sitting on that same stage in the dark. It’s only three hours till midnight now. As I glance at the ornate clock on the wall, I feel even more like Cinderella—only in my case I’m looking forward to midnight, rather than dreading it.
“Penny, why haven’t you gotten cha
nged?” Mum whispers in my ear.
I turn to face her. “What do you mean? Into what?”
Mum frowns. “I thought I told you about the dress. Didn’t I tell you abut the dress?”
I look at her blankly.
“Oh my goodness! I must have been so busy I completely forgot.” Mum grabs my arm.
“Downstairs, in my room, there’s a dress for you.”
“What kind of dress?”
Mum smiles. “You’ll see.”
“But don’t I have to stay in theme?”
“You will be.” Mum’s smile gets increasingly mysterious and she passes me her key card.
“OK then.”
I turn to go—and quickly snap a picture of one of the flower girls crawling under a table, clutching a chicken leg.
• • •
As soon as I walk into Mum and Dad’s room, I start to laugh. Dad’s side of the room is practically empty, apart from a copy of a sports biography on his bedside table and his suitcase placed neatly against the wall. Mum’s side looks like a tornado has hit it—a clothes and cosmetics tornado. I pick my way through the chaos and go over to the bed.
There, laid out on top of the covers, is a beautiful flapper dress. It’s made from emerald-green silk, with a beautiful fringe of silver beads around the bottom. There’s a matching beaded headband lying on the bed next to it and a pair of black Mary Jane shoes. I can’t believe that’s really for me, but there’s a note on the hanger marked: FOR PENNY.
I’m so excited I can barely breathe. But then, of course, my good old inner voice starts going to town. What if it doesn’t fit you? What if it looks stupid on you? However, as I pick up the dress, I can’t imagine it looking stupid on anyone. I wriggle out of my starchy servant’s outfit and pull the dress over my head. The material feels so soft it gives me goose bumps as it brushes against my skin. I actually gasp out loud when I see my reflection in the full-length mirror. The dress fits me perfectly and makes me look so grown-up and so—well, so interesting, like an old movie star. I put on the shoes and then look at my hair. I’d tied it up in a bun for my servant look but it’s not really working with the dress.