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try. ‘Who though?’ I frowned. Who would Mum be prepared to take instead of Dad? A brother or sister, perhaps? Except she didn’t have one. Maybe a friend?
    Jam grinned at me, as if he was waiting for me to get a joke. And then it dawned on me. I rushed back downstairs. Dad was disappearing out the front door. ‘Wait,’ I shouted. But he didn’t stop. Mum was standing at the sink, scrubbing hard at an already sparkling pan. She didn’t turn round when I came in.
    â€˜Why can’t Jam come instead of Dad?’ I said.
    Mum rubbed her eyes. ‘I don’t think so, Lauren. It’s supposed to be a family holiday. We should reschedule it.’
    â€˜We can’t. Like I said before, if we pull out at this point we won’t get any of the money back.’ I paused. ‘Oh, Mum, of course it would’ve been better with Dad, but you know how responsible Jam is. He can help out in all sorts of ways.’
    Mum put down her washing-up brush and turned round to face me. She sighed. ‘I know how much you were looking forward to the holiday. And you’re right, Jam is grown-up for his age, though that’s because Carla puts way too much on his shoulders.’ She paused. ‘But it’s probably too late to change the tickets. Anyway, Jam may not want to come.’
    â€˜It isn’t and he does.’ Every muscle in my body was tensed, ready to swat her arguments away like flies.
    Mum sighed. ‘OK, OK, but . . .’ Her face hardened. ‘What about the sleeping arrangements?’ she said, her cheekbones pinking. ‘I mean you’re fourteen. Jam’s just had his fifteenth birthday. I don’t want . . . I mean I won’t have you . . .’
    I looked at the floor, heat flushing my throat and face. ‘Mum,’ I said hoarsely. ‘It’s not like that. Jam and I are just friends.’
    Mum put her hands on her hips. ‘Is that what Jam thinks?’
    â€˜Of course. Anyway, I’ll come in with you. Jam can sleep with Rory. Rory’ll love it.’
    â€˜OK,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll call Jam’s mum.’

8
    America
    My stomach was already in my throat before the steward announced we were beginning our descent into Logan Airport.
    The last few days had been beyond hectic. Our tickets were non-refundable, so we had to pay an admin fee to get Dad’s ticket switched to Jam’s name. This took seven long, frustrating phone calls with Mum muttering pessimistically the whole time that it wouldn’t work out. Then there was a nasty panic on Thursday evening when Jam couldn’t find his passport. But once we were on the plane, there was nothing to do except think.
    And my thoughts led to one, inescapable conclusion: I was utterly, totally mad.
    I was planning to find my way round a strange airport, buy a ticket to another strange airport, then take a bus to a place I had never been, to find out information I was sure no one wanted to give me.
    I looked across the aisle, to where Jam was explaining some
Legends of the Lost Empire
PSP move to anenraptured Rory. He must have sensed me watching him, because he looked up and smiled.
    No way would I have admitted it to another living soul, but the truth was I’m not sure I’d have had the guts to go through with my plan if I hadn’t had Jam with me.
    Don’t get me wrong. I’m no wussy little airhead needing some big strong guy to look after her. I’m used to travelling around London on my own. And I’ve been on aeroplanes before.
    It’s just this was a big deal. And I needed a friend to share it with. My best friend.
    It took ages to get through customs and immigration. After queueing for nearly an hour we reached the counter and an unsmiling official. He asked us to place our forefingers into a groove on this little box, so there’d be a record of our fingerprints at the airport, then made us stand in front of a tiny