Free Asking for Trouble: 1 (London Confidential) by Sandra Byrd

art thou, Jack?” Louanne mimicked in a high-pitched voice. I threw a pillow at her, and she broke into giggles. I did too.
    The next morning we pulled on some warmer clothes. “Best wear your jumper,” Mom teased, and we all laughed. When we’d first read over our uniform list for school, we’d wondered why we’d need something to start the car when the battery died. But it turned out that jumpers were sweaters, and we dutifully pulled them on today. Mine was green, pink, and black plaid. I thought it looked rather smart.
    “Can we take the Underground?” I asked. I’d been dying to ride it. Most of the people at school rode it regularly. Even Hazelle. But my parents wouldn’t let me ride it alone.
    Mom nodded, and we walked to the station with the big red and white bull’s-eye and the word Underground in white on blue across it. We hopped on the shiny aluminum escalator that swept us underground.
    Even though the waiting area was sleek with clean, modern tile, you could hear the trains rumbling every which way in the distance, like ogres shaking deep under the city. I also smelled the grease on the tracks, kind of like an auto repair shop smell. The walls trembled. Now that I was here, I wasn’t sure.
    “Have I ever been claustrophobic?” I asked Mom.
    She laughed. “No. And you’re not now.”
    We got on and shot across town. When we got off, we were just a few blocks from Buckingham Palace.
    “We can’t take the tour, because the Queen is in residence,” Mom said. “But I thought it would be fun to walk by.”
    I held my breath. The Queen is in residence! I loved being an American—go USA! But how absolutely cool—“extraordinary,” as the Brits would say—to have a queen. A queen whose family had perched on this particular throne for a thousand years.
    We got a coffee at Starbucks, which we still drank to ward off homesickness, and then walked by the palace.
    Its smooth beige stones reached toward the sky. There were statues dotted here and there and capped with real gold.
    “If I were a journalist, maybe I could get an interview with the Queen sometime,” I said.
    “Or Prince Harry,” Louanne teased.
    I cuffed her on the side of the head. “Be careful, or I’m going to feed you to the bears.” I pointed at the red-coated, bear-hatted guards standing at attention in front of the palace gates.
    “Let me take your picture with one of them,” Mom said. Louanne went on one side of the soldier, and I stood on the other. He looked straight ahead, not wavering. Not blinking or moving at all.
    It’s a tradition that tourists to London are supposed to try to crack the calm of the palace guards. What could I try? I thought back to my dad, winking at us as we got out of the car yesterday. I looked at the guard, and although he didn’t meet my gaze, I thought I saw his eyes flicker a little. In a flash, I winked.
    He didn’t twitch, but my journalistic powers of observation were dialed to high, and I thought I saw a little pink flush up from his tightly starched collar. I grinned.
    I hoped that pink neck showed in the picture.

Chapter 25

    Once I’d turned in my answers for the advice column contest, the whole next week was practically a washout as far as schoolwork was concerned. And at home it was even worse, because there weren’t even any teachers to keep me on track. I tried to concentrate—really! But I knew that Jack and Julia were reading the sample columns this week. Jack said he would tell everyone privately—since the submissions were private. I just didn’t know how I’d find out.
    So here’s how my week went.
    Monday. The week started off okay. My stomach was a little queasy from fried clams at Fishcoteque, but I had only myself to blame for that. I talked with Gwennie and Jill. I used every last ounce of concentration not to mess up the science experiment, because I figured I had nine friendship lives with them and I’d already used up eight. Or seven, at least. When I got