Listening to her father’s pigeons coo softly in their rooftop aviary, Yasmin sat with her journal on her lap, looking out at the Great Pyramid and its two smaller sisters shimmering against the desert horizon. The streets below Giza’s sprawl of low-rise buildings bustled with traffic as hawkers and hustlers went about their business to the constant soundtrack of honking horns. Even on a Sunday, Giza, like the rest of Cairo, was always moving, always noisy.

Yasmin smiled to think of everyone going about their normal activities on a day that was going to be anything but normal for her. Today she would take her first SpaceSkimmer flight, shooting up into the upper atmosphere over the Mediterranean, before landing in Athens so she could visit Zander for a few days. She couldn’t believe the day had finally arrived. Her adventure was about to begin!

But first Yasmin had to pack. She put her journal down on the side table, got up and went down the stairs to her little bedroom. As always, her eyes drifted to the walls. Like the ceiling of her family’s shop on the ground floor, she had covered them with hundreds of LiveFotos. Yasmin smiled as she thought about how she could use her DARE Awards prize money to travel to every country in the world and ask everyone she met, ‘What makes you happy?’ She imagined a day when Yasminshappinessproject.com could become a TV series that would help turn the world into a more understanding and peaceful place. But that was in the future.

Right now, she wanted to prepare a smart look for when she arrived in Athens. Yasmin combed her long brown hair and put on her favourite jade shirt, blue jeans and her sneakers. ‘Yes, that will do it,’ she said to her reflection.

Yasmin picked up her InfiniFone from where she had left it charging overnight. She smiled as she read through the new comments visitors had posted to her website.

But what was more puzzling was the odd text message that had come through sometime in the night, from an unknown number.

The symbol must be some sort of strange spam, Yasmin thought.

‘You look like you’re a million miles away already,’ her grandmother, Radha, said, up from the shop, where she often helped out, charming the customers.

Yasmin looked up from her phone. ‘Do you need help in the store?’

Radha shook her head. ‘Just a few people browsing. Mahmoud can handle it.’

Yasmin smiled. ‘Of this you are sure, Grandmother?’

‘I told him he must stay behind the counter,’ Radha said with a cheeky grin. ‘And keep his oven mitts on!’

It was a familiar joke. Mahmoud was many things—gentle, generous and protective of his little sister—but he was also clumsy. And that wasn’t great when the family store was filled with delicate plaster and glass souvenirs. But Mahmoud was only clumsy when he was on two legs. Put him on two wheels and he was the best Cleopatra Pizza motorbike delivery driver in the whole of Cairo. His daredevil riding style was a constant source of worry for their parents, but for Mahmoud his job meant he got paid to practise the skills he would need to achieve his ultimate dream of becoming a movie stuntman.

‘Anyway, it’s not for long,’ Radha continued. ‘Your parents will be back soon.’

‘And just where are Mum and Dad?’ Yasmin asked.

‘Secret mission,’ Radha said, mischievous old eyes on the pile of clothes and empty suitcase on her granddaughter’s bed. ‘Just don’t pack yet, OK?’

‘What does that mean?’ Yasmin said. ‘Tell me!’

Her grandmother shook her head. ‘Come here,’ she said, arms outstretched. ‘I’m going to miss you, child.’

‘I’ll miss you, too, Grandmother,’ Yasmin said, hugging her tight.

Radha held her a moment longer. ‘Can I ask you just one favour?’

‘Of course.’

‘Take me with you!’

Yasmin laughed. ‘I wish I could.’

Radha reached into her pocket, pulled out a small glass vial filled with sand and handed it to her granddaughter.

‘What is this?’ Yasmin enquired.

‘A little bit of home to take with you wherever you go,’ Radha said. ‘If you really do get homesick, you can pour some sand out and always feel Egypt between your fingers—or toes!’

Yasmin grinned. ‘Thank you, Grandmother.’

They hugged again. Radha pulled free, eyes twinkling. ‘I’ll go and make us some tea.’

Yasmin smiled at the sound of one of her grandmother’s beloved action movies coming from the little wind-up TV she kept in the kitchen. But her amusement soured when she heard angry voices downstairs.

‘Oh, Mahmoud,’ Yasmin sighed, picturing him tripping over something breakable. ‘What have you done now?’ She rushed down the stairs and through the beaded doorway at the back of the shop.

Her mouth dropped open at what she saw.

Three uniformed policemen were shooing tourists away from the store’s front door. Another one reached up to spray-paint the lens of the store’s security camera. But worst of all, an older man in a suit and mirrored sunglasses held Mahmoud up against the wall by the throat.

‘Hey!’ Yasmin cried. ‘What’s going on?’