Girl Online(82)

“About you what?” Megan hisses. “About you cheating with someone?”

“I didn’t cheat with anyone,” I hiss back. “I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t know he was with anyone.”

“Yeah right.” Megan looks at me scornfully. “If you didn’t want anyone knowing about it, why did you put it all over your stupid blog?”

“That blog is anonymous. Well, it was until you found out.” I turn to Ollie. “Did you see it on my laptop when you were in my room?”

Ollie doesn’t say anything, but his face flushes bright red.

I stare at him in disbelief. “You were snooping on my laptop?”

“It was right there,” Ollie says. “I just thought I’d have a read while you were in the bathroom.”

“I don’t think you’ve got any right to be judging anybody right now, Penny,” Megan says haughtily.

“Tell me,” Elliot says, turning to her, “do you go to night school to learn how to be such a bitch, or does it just come naturally?”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” she says snidely.

“That’s good, because I’ve got plenty to say to you and it’ll be so much better without any interruptions.” Elliot takes a step closer, so that his face is just inches from hers. “You have to be one of the most vacuous (look it up), inane (look it up), stupid (you should know that one) people I have ever met. And if it wasn’t for the fact that you have just really, really hurt my best friend, I wouldn’t even be wasting a single pascal (look it up) of breath on you.”

Megan turns to Ollie. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”

Ollie looks at her blankly.

Elliot laughs. “Oh, please. He’s probably too busy wondering whether this is a good time for a selfie.” He turns to Ollie. “It’s not, by the way; it’s a very bad time. But anyway—what was I saying?” He turns back to Megan. “Ah yes, you are easily, without a shadow of a shadow of a doubt, one of the ugliest people I have ever met.”

Megan visibly recoils.

Elliot nods. “It’s true. You’re so bitter and fake it actually oozes out of your pores. Just like pus!”

Megan gasps.

At this point, the waitress comes out of the kitchen holding the tray with our milkshakes. “Oh,” she says, when she sees us standing by the counter.

“It’s OK. We can have them over here,” Elliot calls, “with our friends.”

I look at him and he gives me the tiniest wink. The waitress puts the tray on the counter, then disappears back into the kitchen.

“Ready?” Elliot says to me quietly as we turn to pick up the glasses.

“Ready,” I reply.

We both pick up our drinks and we turn and we throw them over Megan and Ollie. And if there was an Olympic event for synchronized milkshake throwing, we would have just won gold. Megan and Ollie stand there gasping in shock as sludgy brown milkshake drips down from their heads.

“OK,” Elliot says to Ollie. “Right now? This would be an excellent time for a selfie.” Then he turns to me. “I think we’d better go.”

I nod. “Yep.” But before I leave I lean in close to Megan. “You’re pathetic,” I say. “And I’m not the only person who thinks so.”

Then Elliot and I turn and we run.

We don’t stop running until we’re up by the station. I clutch my side and try to catch my breath.

“Oh my God, that was epic!” Elliot gasps. “Even my favorite revenge fantasies aren’t that good.”

“You have revenge fantasies?”

“Oh yes. But they were nothing compared to that.” Then suddenly his face clouds over.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d totally forgotten that I’ve run away.” We both look over at a homeless man lying in a doorway next to the station. His face and clothes are black with grime.

“There’s no way you’re sleeping rough tonight,” I tell him. “You’re coming home with me. I’m sure Mum and Dad won’t mind you staying over. They were only saying yesterday how much they’ve missed you since New York.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And then maybe we can get Dad to talk to your parents. You know how good he is in a crisis. He’ll know what to do.”

? ? ?

Dad knows exactly what to do. As soon as we arrive home and tell him what’s happened, he tells Elliot that he’s welcome to stay for as long as he likes and then he goes around to have a word with his parents. It turns out that Elliot’s mum had been really distraught when she read his farewell note—apparently his farewell note was five pages long so it was more of a farewell essay really—so she said she was going to have a serious talk with his dad when he got home.

We spend the evening eating pizza and watching old episodes of Friends and every so often turning to each other and whispering, “Oh my God, the milkshakes!” and dissolving into fits of giggles. It feels so good to have this kind of normality again. But all the time I’m aware of a nagging sadness deep inside me that no amount of pizza or laughter is able to heal.

At about eight o’clock, Elliot’s dad calls around, asking to have a chat with him. While they talk in the kitchen, I wait nervously in the living room. But there are no raised voices and at one point they even laugh. Elliot finally emerges with a nervous smile on his face.