Girl Online(22)

“OK, clearly I’m still asleep and dreaming,” Tom says, slumping down in a chair.

“So you’re not actually naked in this video?” Dad says.

“Yep, definitely still dreaming,” Tom mutters, putting his head on the table and closing his eyes.

I shake my head.

“Well, that’s OK then, isn’t it?” Dad says, looking at me hopefully. “So what if they saw your knickers for a second? They’ll have forgotten all about it by today.”

“Please tell me I’m dreaming,” Tom mutters, his eyes still closed.

“But they didn’t just see them for a second,” I wail. “It’s on a video on the Internet, in close-up and slow motion. People will be able to watch it over and over again. And they’re so faded and frayed!”

“What’s so faded and frayed?” Dad says.

Elliot and I answer in unison: “Her unicorn knickers!” “My unicorn knickers!”

“Oh dear.” Mum hugs me to her. “Haven’t you had those knickers since you were twelve?”

“Mum!”

She gives me a bashful smile. “Sorry.”

Tom looks up at us through sleepy eyes. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Elliot shakes his head. “Fraid not.”

“OK.” Dad places both his hands on the table. “Who posted the video online?”

“Megan,” I say.

“Mega-nasty,” Elliot mutters.

“Megan?” Mum looks really shocked.

“Yes, she put it on her Facebook page and now someone’s put it on YouTube and someone else has posted it on the school Facebook page.” I start to cry again as I think of the entire school watching action replays of my knickers.

Tom stares at me. “Are you serious?”

I nod.

“Right.” Tom gets to his feet, suddenly looking wide awake.

“What are you doing?” Mum says, looking at him anxiously.

“I’m going to go up to school and find everyone who’s posted it online and I’m going to make them take it down.” I’ve never seen Tom look so mad.

Mum jumps to her feet and grabs hold of his arm. “You can’t do that; you’re not a student there anymore.”

Tom frowns at her. “So what? Penny is and she’s my sister. I’m not going to sit back and do nothing.”

I smile up at him gratefully.

Dad shakes his head. “It’s OK, son, I’ll take care of it. The last thing we need is you getting into any trouble.” He takes hold of my hand. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll go up to the school this morning and I’ll get them to take it off their Facebook page.”

I shake my head. “It’s the unofficial Facebook page—the teachers don’t have any control over it. And so many people have been sharing it; everyone’s going to see it anyway.”

I think of going into school and everyone looking at me and laughing at me and suddenly it’s as if I’m being pulled underwater. I can’t breathe, I can’t swallow, and my entire body starts to do this weird shaking thing. I just can’t cope with any more drama.

“Pen? Are you OK?” Elliot’s voice sounds muffled and far away.

Everyone else’s voices blend into one, kind of like a radio being tuned. “Penny?” “Pen?” “Sweetheart?” “Get her some water.” “Oh my God, she’s going to faint.”

I feel someone holding my shoulders. Someone strong. Dad.

“Take a really slow, deep breath, honey.” Mum.

“Here’s some water.” Tom.

I close my eyes and take a really slow deep breath. And another. In my mind I picture the sea, crashing in and rolling out, crashing in and rolling out. And, slowly, my body stops shaking.

“Penny, what just happened?” Mum says. She’s looking so concerned it makes me want to cry again. But I’m too scared to cry in case it brings the panic attack back, so I just keep focusing on my breathing.

“Are you OK?” Dad says. He’s still holding my shoulders tightly. It feels nice. Like I’m anchored in place.

“Shall I tell them?” Elliot asks softly.

I nod. And as I keep on focusing on my breathing, Elliot explains about the panic attacks I’ve been getting since the car accident.

Mum and Dad both look ashen-faced.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing I’m able to say.

Dad looks at me and shakes his head. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“You should have told us,” Mum says.

“I didn’t want to worry you. And anyway, I thought it would get better, you know, once a bit of time had gone past.”

“Shall I make some tea?” Tom asks, and we all stare at him in shock. Tom never offers to make tea. I smile at him and nod.

“OK, first things first,” Dad says, putting on a businesslike voice. “We’re going to get you some help, to try to get these panic attacks under control.”

“Yes, there are lots of things you can do,” Mum adds. “I know some great breathing exercises from when I used to get stage fright.”

“You used to get stage fright?” I ask in disbelief. It’s hard to imagine my mega-confident mum being scared of anything.