Girl Online: On Tour: The Second Novel by Zoella
By Zoe Sugg
4.5/5
()
About this ebook
When Noah invites Penny on his first-ever European tour, she can’t wait to spend the summer with her rock-god-tastic boyfriend.
But, between Noah’s jam-packed schedule, less-than-welcoming band mates, and threatening messages from jealous fans, Penny wonders whether she’s really cut out for life on tour. She can’t help but miss her family, her best friend Elliot, and her blog, “Girl Online.”
Can Penny learn to balance life and love on the road, or will she lose everything in pursuit of the perfect summer?
Zoe Sugg
Zoe Sugg, aka Zoella, has been creating stories ever since she was little. Her beauty, fashion, and lifestyle blogs and videos have a huge following online, with millions of YouTube subscribers. Visit Zoella.co.uk, YouTube.com/Zoella, @Zoella on Twitter and Instagram, and GirlOnlineUS.com.
Related to Girl Online
Titles in the series (3)
Girl Online: On Tour: The Second Novel by Zoella Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Girl Online: Going Solo: The Third Novel by Zoella Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Girl Online: The First Novel by Zoella Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
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Reviews for Girl Online
3 ratings2 reviews
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This book is a bit more mature than the first one. It has lots of drama (which I loveee!), too many romantic bits that I'm not a big fan of though, but in general a good book. Definitely better than the first book.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I've read Girl Online a while back upon the recommendation of my daughter, but I managed to read the sequel - Girl Online On Tour just yesterday. First off, aren't those book covers so darn cute? I also find the story of Penny and Noah charming. Sure, the whole "famous rockstar falls in love with an ordinary girl" is quite a cliche, but there's enough kernels of truth to make the story realistic and relatable. In the sequel, I like how Penny is able to manage her anxiety better, enabling her to stand up for herself and fight for what she believes in. Elliot is still quirky and lovable as ever, I seriously think Elliot, aka Wiki, deserves his own book.Some may not like how Penny and Noah's story ends, but I did. Yes, it is somewhat open ended and not tied in a pretty little bow, but it ends very maturely on a hopeful note.If you're looking for a quick, light and clean YA romance novel, Zoe Zugg's books might be your cup of tea.
Book preview
Girl Online - Zoe Sugg
Chapter One
Five days later
It should officially be illegal for exam rooms to have a view of the sea.
How is it fair that we’re stuck inside, fingers cramping from gripping a pen for two hours straight, while outside the light is dancing on the waves and it looks so bright and comforting? How am I supposed to remember who King Henry VIII’s fourth wife was when the birds are singing and I swear I can hear the happy, jaunty tune of an ice-cream van nearby?
I shake my head, dispelling the vision of a deliciously soft ice-cream cone with a cheeky Flake sticking out of it, and instead try to summon up a direct link into my best friend Elliot’s brain. He won’t be having much trouble remembering any of these facts and figures in his history exam. I gave him the nickname Wiki, because his brain seems to contain as much knowledge as Wikipedia, whereas my revision notes disappear from my memory as fast as a Snapchat.
I sigh and try to concentrate on the exam question, but the words swim in front of my eyes and I can’t make sense of my own messy scrawl. I hope whoever has to mark it has better luck.
Choosing to take history for GCSE was never a good idea. At the time, I just picked based on what everyone else seemed to be doing. The only subject I knew I definitely had to take was photography. The truth is I have no idea what I want to be when I leave school.
OK, everyone, pens down,
says the examiner at the front of the room.
My mouth instantly goes dry. I don’t know how long I’ve been daydreaming for, but I know that I haven’t finished answering all the questions. These exams determine what subjects I’ll take next year and I’ve already mucked it up. My palms feel slick with sweat, and I can’t hear the birds outside singing anymore. All I can hear is the squawk of seagulls. It sounds like they’re chanting Fail, fail, fail
in my ear. My stomach turns, and I feel like I might be a bit sick.
Penny, are you coming?
I look up, and my friend and classmate Kira is waiting by my desk. The examiner has already snatched my paper and I’ve barely noticed.
Yeah, just a second.
I grab my bag and slide out of my chair.
And then, as I stand up, a wave of relief takes over the nausea. No matter what the result, that’s it: my final exam. I’m finished with school for the year!
I have a stupid grin on my face as I high-five Kira. I feel closer to my classmates—and especially the twins, Kira and Amara—than I have in my entire time at this school. They gathered round me in the aftermath of the drama at the beginning of the year—a solid wall of friendship against the breaking tidal wave of news. The media went into a frenzy when they found out I was dating rock star Noah Flynn, and then they discovered my blog; they unearthed private details of my life and labelled me a homewrecker, since Noah was supposedly in a relationship with mega pop star Leah Brown. It was the worst few days of my life, but my friends helped me to weather the storm. And, when it was all over, the drama had brought us together.
As we spill out into the hallway, Kira says, Celebratory burgers at GBK? We’re all going there before we head to the concert. You must be so excited to see Noah again.
A familiar flutter rises in my stomach. I’m excited—of course I am—but I’m nervous too. I haven’t seen Noah since the Easter holidays, when he spent my sixteenth birthday with me. Now we’re about to spend two weeks in each other’s company. And even though that’s the only thing I want—and the only thing I can think about—I can’t help wondering whether it will be the same.
I’ll catch you at the restaurant,
I say. I just have to pick a few things up from Miss Mills’s office and then head home to change.
Kira squeezes my arm. Oh god, I have to figure out what to wear too!
I smile weakly as she rushes off, but the elation of finishing my exams has given way to a new set of nerves. The will-my-boyfriend-still-like-me kind. I know I should feel more confident that Noah likes me just the way I am, but when your first boyfriend is currently one of the most famous new musicians on the planet, that’s easier said than done.
The hallways are almost deserted and the only sound is the squeak of my Converse trainers on the linoleum floor. I can’t believe this is my last catch-up with my photography teacher, Miss Mills. It feels like she’s been there for me a lot this year—she’s probably the only person I’ve really opened up to about what went on last Christmas and New Year, other than my parents. Even with Elliot I sometimes hold things back. Having a set of impartial ears was something I never wanted—but also never knew I needed.
It didn’t help that I had a panic attack in the small cupboard Miss Mills converted into a makeshift darkroom. It was only a couple of weeks after the news broke
online about Noah and me. Normally I find the darkroom soothing, but whether it was the fumes or the enclosed space—or the fact that the picture I was developing was of Noah’s handsome face, a face that I wouldn’t be seeing for ages—I almost passed out into the chemicals. Luckily it was after school, so no one had to see Panicky Penny
in action all over again, and Miss Mills made me a cup of tea and fed me biscuits until I started talking and just couldn’t stop.
She’s helped me ever since, but I knew what would’ve helped the most: my blog. Blogging had always been so liberating. Even though I had set all future posts on Girl Online to private after posting my final blog, From Fairytale to Horror Story,
I couldn’t ignore the familiar itch that I wanted to scratch—that urge to share my thoughts with the world. Girl Online had been my creative and emotional outlet for over a year, and I missed it—and the community of online readers I had come to call friends. I knew, if I had just reached out to them, my blog readers would have supported me through this, just as they supported me through the early stages of my anxiety.
But the only thing I could picture whenever I closed my eyes and dreamt of updating my blog was all the hateful people online, poised over their keyboards, waiting to tear me apart. Even though so many people were supportive and lovely to me, it only took one nasty comment to send me back into a dark spiral. I’d never felt so paralysed before, so unable to write. Normally words flowed out of my fingers like water, but everything I wrote seemed stilted and wrong. I put it all down in a journal instead, but it just didn’t feel the same.
I’d tried to describe these feelings to Miss Mills. In that spiral, the people online become clowns in thick makeup—and when they smile their teeth are razor-sharp. They’re like monsters, but instead of lurking in the dark they’re right there for everyone to see. They’re all my worst fears rolled into one. They’re a million nightmares. They make me want to pack up all my things and move in with a remote tribe in the Amazon rainforest who think aeroplanes are evil spirits sent from the gods. Elliot told me about them. I bet they’ve never heard of Girl Online or Noah Flynn. I bet they don’t know about Facebook. Or Twitter. Or viral videos that just don’t ever seem to disappear.
Even if I lived only in Brighton, England, it would be OK. Most of my school has forgotten about my scandal,
the same way they’ve forgotten the name of last year’s X Factor winner. My dad says that today’s news is tomorrow’s fish-and-chip paper. And he’s right—the novelty of finding out about my blog, and even about Noah and me, has now worn thinner than the knees of my favourite jeans. But I don’t live in a remote jungle or really even in Brighton, England. Instead, I am a citizen of Planet Internet, and right now it’s the worst place in the entire world to be me—because, on the Internet, I worry that no one will ever forget.
At least one good thing has come from the Internet, though. Pegasus Girl and I swapped email addresses after she supported me, and she’s gone from being Girl Online ’s most faithful reader to one of my best friends—even though we haven’t met in real life yet. After listening to me moan for the millionth time about wishing Girl Online still existed, she told me that I could change my blog settings so that only people I gave a password to could read what I wrote. Now she, Elliot, and Miss Mills are the only people who read my ramblings, but it’s much better than nothing.
I can see Miss Mills through the warped glass in her classroom door, her light brown hair tumbling forward as she leans over her marking. I knock on the door frame and she looks up at me, smiling.
Afternoon, Penny. Are you all done for the year, then?
I nod. Just finished my history exam.
That’s great! Come on in.
She waits until I’ve sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs. All around the room are my fellow students’ photography projects, mounted on black foam board and ready for the summer exhibition. Against Miss Mills’s wishes, I specifically asked not to put my work on display. I completed all the assignments but couldn’t face showing my photographs to anyone else. Most of my class also put their portfolios online, but I stopped uploading mine after Christmas. I’m terrified someone will find it and use it to make fun of me. Instead, I’ve been compiling a paper portfolio and handing it in to Miss Mills each week. The physical act of creativity has been very therapeutic.
She pulls out my portfolio and hands it back to me. Great job, as always, Penny,
she says with a smile. This is our last meeting for a while, isn’t it? I wanted to talk to you about your last blog. You know, it does get better.
I shrug. Getting through each day seems to be just about all I can handle.
As if she’s reading my thoughts, Miss Mills continues. I think you can do far more than simply survive each day. You can thrive, Penny. You’ve been through a lot this past school year. I’m glad you’ve decided to continue with your A levels—especially in photography—but I don’t think you should let your choices worry you too much. You’re allowed to not know what you want to do yet.
I want to believe her, but it’s hard. It feels like everyone has their lives all figured out, except me. It’s not something Elliot can relate to. He knows he wants to study fashion design and he dreams of one day having his own label. I just found out that Kira wants to be a vet so she’s taking biology and maths to make sure she can get into a good university. Amara is some kind of physics genius and has always wanted to be a scientist, so she is set. All I like to do is take pictures and write blog posts that I can only publish in secret to a select group of my closest friends. I don’t think there’s a career in that.
I know there’s an ocean of possibility out there, but I’m stuck on the shore, not prepared to dive in. Didn’t you always want to be a teacher?
I ask.
She laughs. Not really. I kind of . . . fell into it. I wanted to be an archaeologist! Until I realized that archaeology isn’t about Indiana Jones–style adventuring and too often involves categorizing tiny fragments of bone for hours on end. I spent a lot of time feeling lost.
That’s how I feel,
I say. Lost in my own life. And I don’t know how to use a compass. Is there GPS for your life?
Miss Mills laughs. "No matter what those other adults might tell you, I’ll let you in on a little secret: you don’t have to know now. You’re only sixteen. Go ahead and enjoy yourself! Live your life. Turn that internal compass of yours upside down and backwards and in circles so it doesn’t know which way is up. Like I said, I fell into teaching completely by accident, but now I wouldn’t want to do any other job. She leans towards me and smiles.
So, are you looking forward to the concert tonight? It’s all anyone in my other classes could talk about. Isn’t Noah supporting The Sketch?"
I grin, glad for the change of subject. My heart lifts as I think of seeing Noah again. There’s a point when Skype and texting just don’t cut it, and that point is now. It’s also going to be the first time I’ve ever seen him perform live onstage, in front of thousands of screaming girls. Yes, he’s the opening act. It’s a huge deal for him.
Sounds like it. Well, you take care of yourself over the summer. And don’t forget about your prep for A-level photography.
She gestures to my portfolio. Are you sure you don’t want to exhibit? You’ve got some amazing work in here, and it deserves to be recognized.
I shake my head. She sighs, but she knows it’s a losing battle. Well, all I can say is keep on writing your blog, Penny. It’s your talent. You know how to connect with people, and I don’t want you to lose that. Make that your summer assignment from me this year, alongside your photographs. I want a full report of your travels when you get back.
I smile, sliding the portfolio notebook into my bag. Thanks for all your help this year, Miss Mills.
I think about our photography assignment for the summer. Miss Mills has asked us to look at alternative perspectives
: a challenge to see things from a different angle. I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I’m sure going on tour with Noah will offer up a million different opportunities.
You’re welcome, Penny.
I leave the classroom, and am back in the deserted hallways. I feel my heart beating inside my chest as I pick my pace up to a jog, and then a run. I burst through the doors that lead outside, throw my arms wide, and twirl on the front step of the school. I blush pink when I realize how cheesy that must look, but I have never been so ready for the school year to be over. Freedom has never felt so good.
25 June
Exams Are Officially Over! (And How to Survive Them When They Return)
Drum roll please . . . I’ve finished school for the year! Done! Finito!
It wasn’t that bad. Repeat: it wasn’t that bad. But I did have some help (big thanks to Wiki, my bestest pal!) coming up with some strategies for coping when it felt like all I was doing was studying . . . studying . . . and more studying!
If I don’t write these strategies down now, I know I will have forgotten them when exam time comes round next year. For some reason, no matter how many times I have to sit exams, I always find them just as terror-inducing as before.
Five Ways to Survive Exams (from Someone Who HATES Exams)
1. Revise
OK, some might say that’s an obvious one, but this year I drew up a calendar with each subject on it and gave myself a gold star sticker whenever I completed an hour’s revision. It felt a bit like being back in primary school again, but actually seeing all the progress I was making (by way of a constellation of gold stars all over the calendar) made me feel loads more confident in my preparation.
2. Bribes
Not ones for your teachers or your examiner, but for yourself! Whenever I completed a full revision week (see Step 1) I went to Gusto Gelato and got myself a gelato burger as a reward. Nothing like using a sweet treat as motivation!
3. Do the hard questions first
Wiki’s top tip! He says to focus on the questions that are worth the most marks first of all so you don’t get stuck at the end and have to scribble down nonsense for your big essay.
4. Coffee
I don’t even like coffee, but, according to my brother, it helps. I did try it, but every time I took a sip it made me cringe, and I ended up staying awake all night, plagued by anxious shivers. So maybe that’s not such a good tip after all . . .
5. Dream of summer
Remember that there is life after exams! This is basically what got me through. The knowledge that, very soon, I’ll be with Brooklyn Boy again . . .
Girl Offline . . . never going online xxx
Chapter Two
All the way home, my excitement levels have been growing—so much so that I practically waltz into the kitchen. It seems like a pretty apt thing to do because Mum is dressed in a full-blown Strictly Come Dancing glitter outfit, twirling as she and Elliot dance a mean salsa across the black-and-white tiles. Elliot’s boyfriend, Alex, is sitting on a stool by the island, shouting out scores in the flamboyant manner of Bruno Tonioli. Seven!
Just an average afternoon at the Porters’.
Penny darling, you’re home!
Mum says, between steps. You never told me Elliot was such a good dancer.
He’s a man of many talents!
They finish off with an elaborate dip—of Elliot, by Mum.
Alex and I break into spontaneous and enthusiastic applause.
Upstairs?
I say to Elliot and Alex. They nod in almost perfect synchronization.
Seeing them sends a familiar pang through my heart. Elliot and Alex are the perfect couple—and they don’t have to contend with my and Noah’s long-distance woes. They’re able to be together whenever they want, without having to worry about time zones or whether there’s enough Wi-Fi to Skype properly. They’re completely relaxed in each other’s presence.
In fact, they spend so much time together that my family has even given them their own portmanteau nickname, like Brangelina or Kimye. They’re Alexiot.
Are Alexiot staying for dinner?
Mum calls to us before we disappear upstairs.
No, we’re going to grab burgers at GBK before the concert!
I shout back.
We are?
Elliot asks, raising an eyebrow.
I cringe. Kira invited us. Is that OK?
Alexiot exchange a look but seem to come to an agreement. No problem, Pennylicious,
says Elliot. He reaches back and grabs Alex’s hand, and I smile.
I remember the day they met, not long before Valentine’s Day. Elliot had dragged me to a vintage-clothing store in an obscure part of the Brighton Lanes, even though we’d just been in there the day before and we both knew they weren’t going to have anything different in stock. But then I’d seen a new guy slouched behind the counter. It took me a few seconds, but I recognized him.
Oh my god, Penny, he is so cute!
Elliot had pulled me behind a rail of clothing and covered himself with an enormous feather boa.
That’s Alex Shepherd,
I said. He’s in sixth form at our school.
Of course I knew him, but mostly because Kira had a massive crush on him. I lowered my voice. Are you sure he’s gay?
Elliot rolled his eyes at me. You think I would bring you in here if I wasn’t sure? We’ve been eye-flirting since he started working here two weeks ago.
You eye-flirt with everyone,
I said, elbowing him in the ribs.
Not like this.
He gave me an exaggerated wink that made me giggle.
So why haven’t you made a move yet?
I will. Just . . . give me time.
Kira would be devastated to find out Alex plays for the other team, but she’d get over it. He was a little more clean-cut than I would have imagined for Elliot, but he had a mischievous glint in his eye that would make anyone melt into a puddle. When I peeked back round the rail to look at him again, he was still staring at us, so I lifted my hand in a little wave.
Penny, what are you doing?
Elliot’s whisper rose in tone by at least an octave.
Then I grinned. Speeding up time. Besides, I’m just being polite. He was looking this way. OK, he’s coming over—be cool.
"He’s doing what ? Elliot’s face was white with panic, but he smoothed down his hair.
How do I look? I knew I shouldn’t have worn the trilby today! I look too jaunty; I should’ve worn something cooler."
Elliot, you’re rambling.
I’d never seen him act so flustered before. I pulled the boa down so that it didn’t sit like a fluffy animal on top of his head. And, besides, your trilby looks—
But before I could finish my sentence Alex had reached us.
May I help you?
he asked, with a small smile. He didn’t take his eyes off Elliot for an instant.
Will you marry me?
Elliot said under his breath.
What was that?
Alex frowned slightly.
Oh, nothing . . . I was just wondering if you could help me find a scarf to go with my trilby?
It was like Elliot was a different person. All his nerves seemed to melt away in front of my eyes, and he was back to his normal, confident self.
"Of course. I have something that would go with your Great Gatsby vibe over here." Alex walked across to another rail in the store.
Did you know F. Scott Fitzgerald’s wife wouldn’t marry him until he had a book deal?
said Elliot, following Alex.
I didn’t, but I did know that he was really bad at spelling,
replied Alex, without missing a beat.
I watched as the two of them walked away, swapping facts about an author I had yet to read (and I hadn’t seen the movie of the book either). It was like they’d known each other their whole lives. I knew then that I needed to leave Elliot to it. I didn’t want to cramp his style.
But, in true Penny fashion, I backed up straight into a coat stand, knocking a pile of vintage fur coats and stoles onto the floor. I blushed bright red and started picking up furs and heavy coats, but it was all a tangled mess. Trust me to have ruined Elliot’s moment.
Alex and Elliot were by my side in a flash. I’ll clear this up—don’t worry,
said Alex.
I’ll help,
said Elliot. They both reached down and each picked up one end of the same long fur stole, pulling at it until their hands touched. I could almost feel the spark of electricity in the air. It was their Lady and the Tramp spaghetti-and-meatballs moment—a film I had seen, loads of times, as a kid. I mumbled some excuses and attempted to sneak out of the store once more, but this time neither of them noticed. They’ve been an item ever since. And I like to think that my clumsiness helped just a bit.
Now Alexiot have to help me answer the ultimate question: What do you wear to see your boyfriend in real life for the first time in two months? We rush up the stairs to the top floor, where my bedroom is. Alex takes the steps two at a time with his long legs. He’s much taller than both Elliot and me.
Uh, Penny—aren’t you supposed to be leaving for the tour tomorrow?
Alex asks when he gets to the top of the stairs and stands in the doorway of my room.
What do you mean?
But I know exactly what he means. It’s like there’s been a tornado in my bedroom. Every item of clothing I’ve ever worn—every scarf, belt, and hat—is in a heap on my bed. Stacks of revision notes are piled high on my desk and there are scraps of cardboard discarded on the floor from where I put together my final photography portfolio.
The only place that’s clear in my