Gone Missing by Jean Ure Page A

just slightly. I knew I shouldn’t, but I was under a lot of stress and Honey really was not being helpful. I snapped that we couldn’t get a bus cos I didn’t know where they went from.
    â€œDarcy never said anything about buses! She said to use the tube. If there’d been a bus, she’d have said. Obviously there isn’t one.”
    â€œThere could be,” said Honey. “Why don’t we ask?” She tugged at my sleeve. “Jade…let’s ask!”
    â€œNo.” How many times did I have to tell her? We couldn’t afford to draw attention to ourselves.
    While Honey’s jittering and I’m trying to trace different coloured lines on the map, a man comes up to us and says, “You look as if you’re in trouble. Need any help?” Before I can stop her, Honey’s like, “Oh, thank you! Yes! Please! We want to find out about buses.”
    The man laughs at that. I think he looks shifty, though maybe that’s just me being suspicious. He tells Honey that she won’t find any buses down here. “You’ll have to go out to the Euston Road. That’s where the buses are. Come on, I’ll show you!”
    He turns and Honey turns with him. She’s actually going to go off with him! A man. A total stranger. I grab at her and yank her back.
    â€œIt’s OK,” I say. “We can manage, we’re getting the tube.”
    I turn back to the map and begin tracing lines with my finger. What we need to do is get on the pale blue line, which is the Victoria line, as far as Oxford Circus, and then change on to the brown line, which is the Bakerloo line, to Stonebridge Park. I feel quite proud of myself! Tube maps are pretty simple, once you get the hang of them. But I’ve always been good at map reading. It’s a sort of gift I have.
    â€œOK!” I swing round to tell Honey. “While you’ve been wittering on about—”
    Honey’s not there. She’s not there!
    â€œHoney?” I shriek, at the top of my voice.
    Where has she gone? I can’t see her! This is like a nightmare! She’s totally disappeared.
    And then I catch a glimpse of something blue…Honey’s T-shirt. She’s going back up the steps with the shifty man. I yell, “Hunneee!” and go charging after her, banging and barging and crashing into people.
    â€œHunnEEEEE!”
    I finally manage to attract her attention. She’s already on her way out of the station. The man is pressed right up next to her.
    â€œHoney, stop!” I shout.
    Honey looks at me, surprised.
    â€œWhat’s the matter? I’m just finding out about buses.”
    â€œWe’re not getting buses!” I seize her by the arm and haul her back with me, down the steps. Away from the man. She protests, loudly.
    â€œWhat are you doing? I wasn’t going anywhere. I was going to come back!”
    I say, “That’s what you think,” and scuttle off as fast as may be towards the ticket machines, towing Honey with me.
    â€œThat was so rude,” she says. “He was only trying to help! If you’d just let me find out, we could easily have got a bus. There’s loads of them!”
    Very slowly, I spell it out for her. “We are not–getting–a bus. Read my lips: no bus. We are getting the tube. ”
    Honey mutters that she doesn’t want to get a tube. I say well, too bad, cos we’re getting one.
    â€œAnd don’t ever do that to me again!”
    â€œDo what?” says Honey.
    â€œGo off with some stranger!”
    â€œHe was only going to show me where the buses were.”
    â€œHow do you know? This is London, he could have abducted you. You could have ended up in a dark alley with your throat cut. Then how d’you think I’d feel?”
    This frightens her, so that for a few seconds she is humble and silent, but perks up again as we buy our tickets.
    â€œShall I get a child’s