The coach pulled in to the ferry terminal at Dover and stopped at a little hut marked ‘Passport Control’.

‘Oh my god!’ Connie hissed, pulling her bag close. ‘Do you think they know?’

‘No, but what you’re doing is probably illegal.’ As soon as I said it Connie’s eyes went huge and I wished I hadn’t. ‘Well, not illegal illegal.’

‘It’s not like she’s smuggling drugs,’ Keira said. ‘It’s only a hamster. Although I did watch a programme once where this woman swallowed drugs and took them to another country.’

‘What if they think I’ve fed Mr Jambon drugs?’ Connie looked genuinely terrified. She was biting her lip and clutching the bag. ‘I would never make Mr Jambon eat drugs. I never even make him eat the dry food. I always give him salad.’

‘Connie, stop acting weird or you’ll draw attention to us,’ Keira hissed. ‘Why did you even bring it?’

‘Him, you mean,’ Connie corrected her. ‘Mr Jambon is a man. I mean, obviously he’s a hamster, but you know what I mean. He’s a man hamster. He’s a manster.’

‘Yeah, OK, great,’ said Keira impatiently. ‘Why did you bring him?’

‘Because my mum always forgets to feed him, and when I went on Brownie camp he got hamster flu and almost died.’

‘Don’t mean to be rude, Con,’ Keira said, ‘but he’s hardly going to be safer running up and down the French Alps, is he? Look, whatever, they’ve got no reason to search any of our things so it will probably be fine.’

Connie didn’t seem comforted by the word ‘probably’, and she started rocking backwards and forwards.

I instinctively reached out and put my hand on her shoulder. It felt sort of good to be the one trying to help, instead of the helpless one. ‘There’s no way they could know he’s here. It will be fine.’ It sounded lame and I was pretty sure it wasn’t true. If anyone found Mr Jambon we would all be in big trouble.

A man handed some papers to Miss Mardle. The coach heaved forward again and drove up the ramp and on to the ferry. Me and Keira exchanged a look of relief. ‘Don’t leave him on the coach,’ Keira said. ‘You don’t want the driver to hear him hamstering about.’

Connie nodded and carefully put her arm through her rucksack strap. ‘I’ll protect you, Mr Jambon,’ she whispered into the bag, as a teacher I didn’t know started telling us the rules about being on the ferry.

We clambered off the coach and up the stairs. I’d never been on a ferry before. It was absolutely massive. We walked past about ten flights of parked cars before we even got to the main deck. Connie was wearing her rucksack on her front and was talking into it at random intervals. An old couple exchanged a glance that Keira clocked.

‘Let’s go somewhere no one else is,’ she said.

‘I know.’ An excited grin spread across Connie’s face. ‘Let’s write wishes and cast them into the depths of the ocean.’

‘I don’t know if telling the depths of the ocean that I fancy Alfie is going to do anything,’ Keira said. ‘It’s probably not the depths of the ocean’s top priority.’

‘Do you mean Scarlett’s brother Alfie?’ I asked. ‘Do you fancy him?’ It was still weird that Keira Avakian didn’t wear special orthopaedic shoes any more, let alone that she confidently fancied people. Lauren had always fancied Alfie. She had told me the first time we ever met him at Scarlett’s party in year seven. I wondered if she still did.

Keira and Connie both nodded.

‘I think he looks like a Cornetto,’ Connie said enthusiastically. ‘But love is a funny fish like that.’

Keira flicked Connie’s arm with her finger.

‘Do you fancy anyone at the moment, Mouse?’ Connie asked as we climbed the stairs to the deck.

I shook my head and felt a bit embarrassed. Like I should have some story about a boy at White Lodge. I don’t even know if I’ve ever fancied anyone. Like really fancied them. Like Photoshop-your-face-next-to-theirs fancy. I mean, Lila once ate a picture of a boy in year ten she wanted.

I guess all I’ve thought about for so long is ballet. A thud of anger hit me. It wasn’t fair that I wasn’t good enough. That life could give me something I wanted so much and then just take it away.

‘Maybe you’ll find someone to fancy on this trip,’ Connie said as we pushed a heavy door open and walked out on to the deck. The wind hit us really hard. My hair blew out behind me and the salty spray showered my face.

‘I’ve got quite high standards,’ Connie shouted over the wind. ‘I’ve only fancied one person in my life, and he doesn’t even exist.’ She looked dreamily out to sea. ‘Oh, Ron Weasley … you fictional ginger stud.’

‘Well, I’ve only fancied one person, too!’ said Keira, proudly. ‘Alfie’s always been the man for me. And he very much does exist. Shame his sister’s a bit of a b—’ She broke off, looking at me. ‘Sorry, Mouse, I know Scarlett’s your friend.’

I shrugged to show it didn’t matter. The thing was, I had no idea whether Scarlett was my friend or not. And if there were sides, she was on Lauren’s.

‘Yeah, but you’ve got off with three other boys,’ Connie reminded her sternly. ‘I mean, I totally ship you and Alfie, obviously, but you must have fancied those three, too?’

Keira wrinkled her nose. ‘Urgh, no. I was just practising for when it happens with him.’ She looked at me. ‘Have you ever kissed anyone, Mouse?’

‘No,’ I said quietly, trying not to draw attention to it. Maybe it was another thing everyone had done over the last two years.

‘Don’t worry,’ smiled Connie. ‘Neither have I.’

‘You’re not missing out on anything, to be honest,’ sighed Keira. ‘It’s a bit of an anticlimax, really. You think it’ll be this big, life-changing moment, but it’s actually just Elliot Campbell slobbering all over you in the disabled loo.’

‘That’s probably not everyone’s experience of a first kiss,’ Connie said. ‘Elliot Campbell doesn’t even know that many people.’

‘Whatever. Maybe we’ll meet some French boys in the Alps. I bet French boys are ten times better kissers than English boys.’

‘Well, obviously,’ said Connie. ‘That’s why it’s called “French kissing”. You never hear about “English kissing”, do you?’

Keira leant over the railings. ‘“English kissing” is a thing, it’s when a boy asks you to dance, shoves his tongue down your throat and then goes and has a farting competition with his mates and never speaks to you again.’

‘Hey, guys.’

We all turned round at the same time. I had been acutely conscious of where Lauren had been every minute for the last three hours but she had still managed to catch me unawares. Scarlett and Melody stood on either side of her. They smiled at me.

‘I haven’t seen you properly to say hi.’ Lauren held her arms out. I stepped forward and we hugged.

‘Hey, Mouse.’ Scarlett hugged me too, then I hugged Melody. The same sort of hollow hug that lasted a split second.

‘Your hands match your jumper,’ Lauren said, smiling. ‘Blue is very in this season. Impressive dedication to accessorizing right there.’ She was laughing, but in a friendly way. ‘We’re going to get some hot chocolate if you want to come? They might do marshmallow ones.’ That had been Lauren’s and my post-ballet lesson treat. The knot in my tummy released. If things went back to normal with Lauren then maybe everything could be all right. I would get my best friend back.

‘Yeah, definitely,’ I said. ‘That sounds really good.’ Then I saw Connie grinning at me. I didn’t know if the invite was also extended to her and Keira. I couldn’t imagine Lauren wanting them to come along. It’s not like they’re friends. Connie is the type of person Lauren makes fun of behind her back. And pre-hot Keira was too. But it would be really off to just go back to my old friends straight away, without even thanking them for everything they had done. I looked at Connie and then at Keira; I didn’t know what to do.

‘Can I meet you there in ten?’ I said to Lauren. ‘We were just going to walk round the deck.’

‘We’ve got to talk to the depths of the ocean,’ Connie said matter-of-factly and Lauren and Melody exchanged a look. I knew what it meant, but Connie didn’t seem to notice.

‘OK, well, we’ll just be over there.’ Lauren pointed inside to a neon sign that said ‘Sinbad’s Diner’.

Me, Connie and Keira peered over the edge and stared at the ship cutting through the water. Keira got out her notepad and they started writing their wishes. I knew it was mean, but suddenly I wanted to get it over with quickly so I could get to the diner. But however stupid a thing it was to do, it felt like a waste not to write a real wish, just in case. Like when you blow out your birthday candles, you always end up wishing for what you actually do want.

‘You’ve got two,’ Keira said to Connie. ‘That’s cheating.’

‘I did one for Mr Jambon,’ Connie said, patting her rucksack lovingly.

‘Is it about avoiding arrest?’ Keira asked.

‘Good guess!’ beamed Connie. She opened the paper out to reveal what she’d written: ‘PLEASE LET ME AVOID HAMSTER PRISON’.

Keira laughed. ‘He already lives in a cage. How bad could hamster prison be?’ She turned to me. ‘Come on, Mouse, we’ve both written ours.’

I looked at the little blank scrap of paper, and decided to write down the only thing I wanted more than anything right now.

‘On the count of three!’ Keira shouted in to the sea.

The wind snatched the papers the second we let them go and I closed my eyes and repeated the wish in my head again and again.

I looked over at Connie. Her eyes were closed really tight and I could tell she was saying her wish in her head too. I wondered what Connie really wanted.

‘Alfie is so fit!’ Keira yelled.

‘You’re not supposed to tell us!’ Connie screamed. ‘Don’t hold it against her, depths of the ocean.’

I said goodbye to them both and then started to panic. I needed to get the blue off my hands and think about what I was going to say. What if Lauren asked me about Paris? I needed to seem like the kind of person they would want in their group.

I pushed open the door to the toilets, walked into a cubicle, locked it and pulled my jeans down. Some blue rubbed off on them.

Suddenly the toilet door swung open, and I heard Lauren and Scarlett. I opened my mouth to shout hi but froze.

‘Connie-May has always been a freak,’ I heard Lauren say. ‘It’s like Freaky Friday. Like actually a seven-year-old is trapped in her body. And Keira looks really, like … dirty.’

‘Urgh, my brother really fancies her,’ Scarlett sneered. ‘He does county swimming with her and he totally perves on her.’

There was a beat of silence. I wondered if Lauren had ever told Scarlett how much she had fancied Alfie. Maybe she still did.

‘I bet she’s really hairy,’ Lauren said. ‘Her eyebrows are so thick. Why doesn’t anyone tell her to sort them out?’

‘My brother is pretty weird. So no wonder he likes her.’

I could just see them through the crack in the cubicle door as they started putting on make-up and redoing their hair.

My rucksack was on the floor in front of me. If they saw it now, they would know I was there. I leant forward as slowly as I could and lifted it up a centimetre at a time until it was on my lap. Then, with my jeans still round my ankles I lifted my legs up and hugged my knees.

I was too scared to even exhale. The thought that they would realize someone was hiding was making me physically shake. And then I remembered that my phone was on loud. I repeated again and again in my head: Please, God, don’t let my phone ring.

Scarlett walked into the cubicle right next to mine. She dumped her pink Kanken on the floor and the strap spilt under the gap. I closed my eyes like a baby to try and make it go away. Hearing her wee felt really strange.

‘Mouse looks really weird,’ Lauren said. As soon as she said my name my cheeks started to burn. ‘Like a boy. Being that muscular is just really ugly. In year seven she was really pretty but now she just looks … like a man.’

My body felt like it was buzzing with hurt. Like it was numb. I always worried about being so lean and muscular but everyone said I was being stupid.

‘I bet she has amazing abs, though.’ Melody laughed.

‘She’s probably anorexic,’ Scarlett said. ‘Dancers always are.’ She was literally a metre away from me.

‘Guys, don’t be mean,’ Melody said. ‘I feel sorry for her having to hang around with Eager Beaver and Weirdo Girl.’

Scarlett picked up her bag and walked out of the cubicle.

‘I just think it’s really off that she thought it was OK to just act like nothing had happened.’ Lauren sounded like she was annoyed. ‘I’m not friends with her. She hasn’t really got any friends here, has she? It’s kind of weird of her to be like that. Really arrogant, actually. But I guess she has always been up herself.’

Ugly. Like a man. Friendless. Up myself. I had to bite the handle of my rucksack to stop the tears.

‘Why did you invite her?’ Scarlett said.

‘Because knowledge is power.’ Lauren made it sound like it was obvious.

I heard the door slam and the toilet went silent again. I could hear myself crying, but I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anything.

Jack

‘Look!’ yelled Max. ‘Snow!’

The whole coach exploded in to life as everyone scrambled to press their faces against the nearest window. We’d been off the ferry and driving through France for a good few hours, and everyone was buzzing about when we’d finally see some actual snow.

‘Where?’ asked Sarvan, who was three seats back from us.

Max jabbed his finger against the window again. ‘There, you idiots! Look!’

We all followed his finger and squinted. In the distance, emerging out of a cloud, there was the ghostly outline of a mountain. You could just about make out its powdery-white peak.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Toddy. ‘Bit of an anticlimax really.’

Everyone sat back down, grumbling.

‘Unbelievable,’ Max grunted. ‘You try to do something nice … Some people …’ He turned to me. ‘D’you know what I mean?’

I nodded, but I was barely paying attention. I was just thinking about the bet.

Max was definitely going to win it. That was probably why he’d suggested it. But still, maybe he was right. Maybe a bet like this was exactly what I needed to finally stop worrying and get some bottle. I promised myself right then and there that no matter what, I wouldn’t be gutless again. If there was another Maria Bennett situation this week, I wouldn’t chicken out. I would take a deep breath, close my eyes, lean in and go for it.

Outside the window, the snowy mountains on the horizon were getting gradually bigger. I felt a little jolt of nervous excitement in my chest. Next to me, Toddy still had his head buried in the phrase book. Since getting back on the coach, we’d decided we would try to memorize the rudest and most pointless French phrases we could find, then see if we could slip them in to conversation during the trip.

‘All right,’ Toddy said, pushing his glasses up with his middle finger, ‘what about this one: “Avez-vous ma trousse?”’

‘What’s that mean?’ I asked.

‘“Do you have my pencil case?”’

Max nodded. ‘Pretty good. Five points if you can get that in to an actual conversation with an actual French person. But you get much better results by mixing and matching from the vocab sections. Like, check this …’

He grabbed the book and flicked to one page at random, then another.

‘OK … “Ma perruche … est dans la zone piétonne.”’

‘Which means … ?’

‘“My budgerigar is in the pedestrian zone.”’

I laughed. ‘Yeah. Fair play, that is good. Fifteen points if you can use that one.’

‘I still prefer “Monsieur, votre grand-mère était un blaireau.”’ Toddy said.

‘What was that again?’

‘“Sir, your grandmother was a badger.”’

We all exploded in to laughter.

‘It’s the “Sir” that makes it work,’ said Max, wiping his eyes. ‘They think you’re being all respectful with the “Monsieur”, and then – bam! – you hit them with the “blaireau”.’

‘It’s a classic sucker punch,’ I said.

‘Thing is, we can’t use any of these phrases till we get to the resort, can we?’ Max said. ‘So, what about coming up with some challenges we can do now, on the coach?’

‘Like what?’

‘I dunno. Like mooning out the window.’

‘Max, we’re not gonna award you points for getting your bum out,’ said Toddy.

‘Why not?’

‘Because you blatantly won’t.’

‘I blatantly will!’ Max huffed. ‘If you’ll give me twenty points, I’ll pull a moonie.’

Toddy shrugged. ‘All right. Twenty points for a moon.’

‘You do realize these “points” have no actual value in the real world, yeah, Max?’ I said.

‘Yeah, but—’ He stopped mid-reply, and suddenly yelled, ‘Ugh! Oh my god, that’s RANK!’

I was about to ask what he was on about, when a sharp, nasty tang hit the inside of my nose.

‘Oh my god,’ I croaked. Coach farts are the worst farts known to man.

Max slapped both his hands over his mouth and pressed his face against the window.

‘Vass meffalee munna damie thiff!’ he said.

‘You what?’ said Toddy. ‘Oh man, what’s that smell?!’

Max moved his hands up so they were just covering his nose. ‘I said – that’s definitely one of Jamie Smith’s.’

‘Yeah,’ said Toddy, pinching his own nose, hard. ‘Cat food. Why do his always smell like cat food?’

With one hand still clamped to his face, Max shouted back down the coach at Jamie. ‘Oi, Jamie! Why do your farts always smell like cat food?’

‘Because that’s what your mum serves for dinner,’ Jamie yelled back.

He was rewarded for this with a loud cheer and a flurry of high fives. Max slumped back down in to his seat grumpily. ‘That doesn’t even make sense,’ he grunted. ‘Why would my mum serve cat food for dinner?’

Toddy rolled his eyes at me, but before he could reply, Mr Flynn was bounding down the aisle towards us.

‘All right, lads! Settle down. We’re nearly there now.’

You can usually hear Flynn coming a mile off because of his booming voice. He’s quite short, with slicked-back hair and a black goatee beard. He talks like he’s about sixty, even though my mum says he can’t be more than thirty. We were all quite chuffed he was on the trip, because he’s a proper pushover.

‘How are we all doing back here, then?’ Flynn asked us, waving his hands about dramatically. He inhaled heavily and let out a loud, satisfied sigh. ‘Will you just smell that mountain air, eh, lads?’

‘We’re on a coach, sir,’ I said. ‘All we can smell is Febreze and Jamie Smith’s farts.’

Flynn wrinkled his nose. ‘Hmmm. Yes. It is a bit … cat-foody back here.’

‘Sir,’ Max said, rubbing his top lip, ‘can I ask you a question about facial hair maintenance?’

‘Yes, Mr Kendal, you may,’ said Flynn, stroking his goatee proudly.

‘Well, sir,’ said Max, ‘as you can see, I’ve got a moustache these days—’

‘You may need a magnifying glass to confirm that, sir,’ I interrupted.

‘Shut up, Jack,’ snapped Max. ‘Anyway, sir, do you think I should be shampooing it? Do you shampoo your beard?’

I groaned and stood up. ‘I can’t listen to any more of this. Excuse me, sir.’

I squeezed past Flynn and jammed myself into the tiny toilet cubicle.

As I slammed the door behind me and straightened up, I whacked my head on the ceiling, painfully. It was only stuff like this that made me realize how much I had grown recently.

‘Haven’t you changed, Jack!’ That was what my parents’ friends always said when they saw me nowadays. But it was weird – I didn’t feel different. I looked at myself in the little mirror. I didn’t even look that different really, apart from the height thing. Same small, sharp, brown eyes that curved upwards at the edges. Same thin, pointy nose that I definitely got from my mum. Same deep, O-shaped dimples on either side of my mouth that double in size when I smile really widely. Same bushy brown hair that always sticks up at the front, no matter how many times I splash it down with water.

I pushed my face right up against the glass to check out my top lip. Nothing. Some of the hairs around the side of my mouth were getting sort of darker, but I was still a long way off even Max’s crappy attempt at a ’tache. Maybe I could just colour the hairs in with a black felt tip? Would anyone notice that? Maybe that’s what Max was doing.

Suddenly, a loud burst of shouting and laughter erupted above me. I flung the door open and sprang back up in to the aisle.

I saw what everyone was going mental about and burst out laughing, too. Another coach full of school kids was driving alongside us, all going equally mad, because Max was stood up on his seat with his trousers round his ankles, his bare bum pressed firmly against the window.