Free By the Time You Read This by Lola Jaye Page A

kitchen.
    “Thank you!” I replied gratefully.
    “If I hadn’t met the love of my life and had the kids so young, I’d have done the same. Traveled. That’s why I’m so pleased that Corey’s doing it—even if it has ripped my heart out.”
    I lowered my eyes at the sound of Corey’s name being mentioned and Carla’s mom smiled a knowing smile in my direction, acknowledging our “little secret.” I really wanted Mom to acknowledge my dad by recalling their plans to tour Australia, but all she did was nod her head and pretend to admire her neighbor’s newly painted nails.
    When my letter of acceptance had arrived, the shock was instant. I then went on to change my mind a million times, alternating between staying and going.
    “But I had loads of stuff planned for us,” whined Carla. And, admittedly, the guilt waded in, evaporating as soonas I heard Mom and the Bingo Caller having a row in the kitchen. I wavered again when Corey was mentioned, who by the sounds of it was having a ball in Paris.
    But I wanted a piece of that.
    Dad was right.

have life will travel
    Kevin Trivia: I was going to get a tattoo, which was all the rage, but at the last minute I “remembered” I had to go and pick up my mom’s laundry. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it…
     
    A mong the confusion of delayed flights and changes to departure gates announced by a generic voice on a loudspeaker, I was still convinced I was doing the right thing. I just knew.
    “I feel like I’m losing another one!” wept Carla’s mom as we hugged. She smelled of citrus and was wearing a tiny spotted red miniskirt, which even at her age turned heads for the right reasons.
    “Take care of yourself,” I said, ruffling Carla’s hair. The generic voice mentioned another delayed flight toWashington. I was off to New York and my flight was leaving on schedule according to the display screen.
    “Bye, Lois. Bring me back something nice, eh?” said Carla.
    “Like?”
    “I dunno…” She actually scratched at her beautiful head like a cartoon character, but without the huge question mark hovering above.
    “Well…?” I said with mock impatience.
    “Sneakers?” she said as an afterthought. Her beautiful face then sprang out a mass of tears and sniffs. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry like that before. Not even when Corey left. Corey, who’d sent a grand total of two postcards and not bothered once to pick up the phone to call me.
    Mom appeared. “I’ve bought you some hard candies for the journey. They’ll help with the ear popping.”
    “Thanks, Mom.”
    “Take care. Make sure you eat properly. Not too many hot dogs. And you call me as soon as you get there.”
    “Yes, Mom, I will,” I said, actually meaning it. I noticed how haggard she looked and silently cursed the Bingo Caller for putting Mom through the daily ritual of an argument. Only last night I’d caught the tail end of a huge row over something that Mom “needed” and the Bingo Caller replying heatedly with something about “risks.” With a sincere kiss on her cheek, I mumbled goodbye, hugged Carla and her mom once more and slid my pull-along through to the Departure Lounge and into the unknown.
    Searches, passports and a boarding gate followed. Apart from one trip to France with school pre-Eurostar and a flight to Barcelona a few years ago with Carla’s family, Ishould have been nervous at the thought of my first trip alone. Even more so as I strapped myself into the seat, with any remaining thoughts of England and Corey wafting away with the candy floss clouds. But the line between nervous and excited had been crossed, and after the first in-flight meal I drifted off into a welcome sleep to dream of Dad and how proud he would be of me at that precise moment.
     
    A s the bus moved away from the airport and headed toward our hotel in Manhattan, I was astounded by how different and unusual everything seemed. Huge roads, huge cars and traffic lights with