Girl, Missing (23 page)

So where
did
I belong? I didn't particularly want to go
back to school in London, but I missed Mum and Dad. I knew they wanted me to be with them properly, not just on occasional visits. And how was I going to say goodbye to my totally amazing boyfriend?

I stretched up and kissed him on the nose.

‘I want to be with you.'

He gave me his big, cute grin. And there wasn't much more talking for a few minutes.

The whole family came round later for Madison's birthday tea. I'd helped make a big cake with seven candles. Madison blew each one out in the manner of one of the seven dwarfs from
Snow White
. Only Jam and I guessed what she was doing. We creased up at Annie's face when Madison, as Sneezy, manufactured a massive sneeze to blow out the last one.

Then everyone left. Sam took Madi up to bed and Annie cleared up. She seemed particularly on edge, breaking a plate and two glasses as she loaded the dishwasher.

I wondered what was wrong. In the past few days Annie had seemed calmer than before. She'd even stopped creeping around me all the time. But tonight she was definitely jittery as hell.

At seven o'clock the doorbell went. Annie jumped like she'd been shot. ‘Lauren, would you get that?'

I trotted across to the front door.

Mum and Dad stood on the mat outside.

My mouth fell open.

‘Hello, sweetheart.' Mum drew me into an enormous hug.

‘What's going on? I thought you weren't due back until tomorrow.'

‘Annie and Sam invited us.' Dad raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘we've got no more idea than you do'.

We went through to the living area. Sam and Annie were standing there looking ultra-serious. Mum and Dad stared at them. I caught Jam's eye. This was by far the most bizarre situation I think I'd ever found myself in.

No one said anything.

I cleared my throat.

‘Er, Mum and Dad, this is . . .' I turned to Sam and Annie. ‘This is . . . er . . . my mum and dad.'

Jam laughed. Everybody else looked awkward.

Sam held out his hand. ‘Thanks for coming,' he said.

Mum and Dad sat down on the sofa opposite Annie and Sam.

‘I'll make some coffee in a minute,' Annie said. ‘But I think if I don't say this now I'll burst or cry or something stupid.'

I stared at her.

Sam coughed. ‘First off, we wanted to apologise for ever believing you were involved in Lauren's kidnapping. We
know that you did . . . er . . . what you did, thinking you were saving her.'

Annie nodded. ‘And we want you to know that we think you've done a wonderful job as her parents. She's a lovely girl.'

Mum gave a half-smile. ‘Thank you,' she said. ‘And thank you for what you told Lauren and our lawyers about not fighting to keep us out of Lauren's life altogether. Knowing that you understand . . .' Her voice faltered. ‘Is that what you wanted to talk about?'

‘Not exactly,' Sam said. ‘We know that you love her very much and we've talked to Lauren. It's obvious she feels she belongs with you . . .' Sam's voice croaked. He stopped and looked down.

Annie squeezed his hand. She looked at me. ‘When I saw your face . . . the way you lit up when we told you we weren't going to fight you seeing your . . . your parents, I – we realised . . .' She took a deep breath and looked over at Mum and Dad. ‘We wanted you to be here when we told Lauren that . . . that if it's what she wants, once the hearing establishes the earlier adoption was invalid, we won't fight your application to formally adopt her, legally this time, and have her go back home to England.'

I gulped. Glanced over at Mum and Dad. They were both staring at Annie and Sam. Mum's eyes filled with tears.

No one spoke. My heart thumped loudly in my ears.

‘Thank you.' Mum's voice was a whisper. She looked at Dad. He nodded.

Mum cleared her throat. ‘It's up to you, Lauren. We know finding your birth parents meant everything to you. It's your decision. Whatever you decide, we'll support it.'

What?

They all looked at me. I blinked rapidly. I could choose? I felt Jam's arm round my shoulder.

Mum and Dad meant rows and school and boring England. But it also meant being with Jam. And it was home.

But how could I leave Annie and Sam's? I hadn't spent enough time here yet – with my family. I wanted to get to know Annie better. And my grandparents.
Jeez
. I had relatives I hadn't even met yet. And I wanted to go sailing with Sam again when he got his new boat. And, most of all, I wanted to be here for Madison.

I gazed round at my parents' anxious, tearful faces. Glane's words came into my head.

You have four parents who love you. For that maybe it is possible to belong in two places
.

A slow smile spread across my face.

‘I don't want to choose,' I said.

They all stared at me. Dad cleared his throat. ‘We don't want to make you,' he said. ‘But we have to . . .'

‘I mean I don't want to choose
between
you,' I said. I looked at them, grinning.

Mum and Sam were frowning. Annie sniffed. ‘But how . . . ?'

‘Don't you get it?' I said. ‘I choose all of you.'

And that's how we worked it out. I'm probably the first person in the history of the world with four legally recognised parents across two continents. I spend school terms at home in London, and at least half the holidays in Evanport. Annie and Sam and my sisters come to England for holidays sometimes too.

Jam and I are totally an item. I see him all the time at home in London – and he often comes with me to Evanport too. Sam pays for the flights. Jam still doesn't see his dad and, well, he's never got on with Carla. To be honest, I think he looks on Annie and Sam as substitute parents. Sometimes Glane pops down from Boston and takes us out too.

So that's how it is. I never spend more than a few weeks at a time away from either of my families and we talk and text loads too. It doesn't leave much time for other stuff and it isn't always easy, especially when I've just arrived somewhere, but all in all I probably get on with everyone better than I would if I lived with them fulltime.

We got a new teacher the other day. She made us do
one of those
Who am I?
essays again. This time it was easy. I just wrote about my life.

About me.

Girl, found.

Acknowledgements

This story started with the internet, in particular:
www.baaf.org.uk
(the website of the British Association for Adoption and Fostering),
www.missingkids.com
,
www.ukadoption.com
and Vermont Statutes Online at
www.leg.state.vt.us
/statutes.

I am especially grateful to Julia Alanen, supervising attorney for the international division of the US National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, for her time and her interest.

And thanks, also, to Elizabeth Hawkins, Moira Young, Gaby Halberstam, Julie Mackenzie, Sharon Flockhart, Melanie Edge, Jane Novak, Alastair McKenzie, Pam McKenzie and Ciara Gartshore.

READ THE FIRST EXCITING BOOK
IN THIS BRAND NEW
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I'm Nico and what I'm about to tell you is Secret and Dangerous and True. It's also several planetary systems beyond Weird. Here's how it started . . .

Picture this . . . Friday morning. A whole-school assembly in the big hall. Rows and rows of teenagers in lines of plastic chairs. I was sitting there, towards the back – dark hair, brown eyes – the guy all the girls wanted to get their hands on.

Only joking.

Anyway, there we all were, sunlight blistering in through high windows and the head teacher, Fergus Fox, droning on.

He's not just the head teacher. He's also my stepdad. I've lived with him in his boarding school since my mum died of cancer when I was five. We don't get on, for reasons which will soon become obvious.

But this isn't about him.

If it's about anyone, it's about her . . . Ketty.

She was sitting two rows in front and four seats to the left of me. You're probably surprised I can remember that little detail. Well, get used to it. When it comes to Ketty, I tend to remember everything.

That day she had her dark, curly hair in a ponytail, tied back with a piece of string. Very Ketty, that string. She doesn't go in for girly things like ribbon – she's practical. Doesn't wear loads of make-up or jewellery either and I've never seen her in a dress.

My eyes kept sliding over to where she was sitting. Which is when I saw Billy Martin put his arm round her shoulders. My mouth fell open. Everything else dropped away, even the sound of Fergus's droning voice. I waited for Ketty to push the arm away. But she didn't. Instead, she leaned in closer.

No
way
. But there it was. My best friend . . . with Billy Martin.

I looked away. Tried to calm myself. But my eyes kept going back to them.

I couldn't believe she'd go with Billy. What did he have that I didn't? Apart from a load of money, of course. But Ketty wouldn't be interested in that, would she?

I looked up at the stage and tried to concentrate on what Fergus was talking about. Some long, dull lecture about the appropriate way to wear your school uniform.

Billy's hand was on Ketty's arm now, his fingertips moving slightly up and down.

I tore my eyes away and felt the fury building in my chest.

It's your own fault
, said the voice in my head.
You've been friends for months. You've had every chance to ask her out yourself
.

It was true. Worse, I didn't even know why I hadn't said anything to Ketty so far.

Actually, I did.

It was because I'd been sure Ketty would say no. I mean, we got on really well, but she was so completely into her running it was like there wasn't room for anything else important.

I didn't want to think about that so I tried to focus on Fergus again. But everything about him was annoying me now – his solemn face . . . his serious voice . . . I mean, he was talking about school uniform, for God's sake, not war or dying babies.

Billy squeezed Ketty's arm and smiled. I half thought of jumping up and pointing and shouting for the teachers to stop them. But even I'm not that crazy.

And then Ketty turned her head to look at him and right there, in front of everyone . . . in front of
me
. . . she smiled back at him.

A great, big, loved-up smile.

My stomach turned over. I could feel my face flooding red. I stared through the nearest window. It was open just a fraction. I imagined storming over to it and slamming it shut. Hard.

With a sudden swerve, the window swung wide open. I jumped. Before I could even register what was happening, the window slammed shut.

Several people sitting nearby looked round. I watched as the window opened and slammed shut again, then opened once more.

I glanced at the curtains beside it. As I did, they lifted away from the wall, like a gust of wind had rippled through them.

My eyes tore round the room. More curtains moved. Some floated up for a second and dropped again. Others flew high into the air. What was going on? Around me I could hear people gasping. Whimpers and anxious squeals from the younger kids filled the air.

‘What's happening?'

‘Why's everything moving?'

In the background Fergus's voice was a loud appeal. ‘Be quiet. It's just a freak gust of wind. Stay in your seats.'

My eyes lit on the clock beside the stage – a big, open, white-faced clock with black hands and numbers. The clock hands moved – first slowly, then faster and faster, whizzing until they were a blur.

I blinked and the hands stopped.

Which is when it struck me. This was no freak wind.

It was
me
.

I
was making everything move.