Extra Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

try to think of a solution.
    I can’t.
    â€˜Which is why,’ says Mum, ‘you two will have to go without us.’
    I stare at her.
    â€˜We know,’ says Dad. ‘Not what you were expecting.’
    Mum takes a deep breath.
    â€˜Me and Dad have talked about it,’ she says, ‘and . . . well, there were a lot of things poor Pete and Danny didn’t get to do, and there’s no way anybody can fix that now, but we don’t want to be the reason you two don’t get to do things.’
    I can see what a struggle it is for Mum to say that, but I can also see she means it.
    â€˜I feel the same,’ says Dad. ‘We think it’s time we started trusting that you can both stand on your own two feet.’
    I open my mouth to tell them that we can, that we almost sharpened Uncle Cliff’s knives and repaired his plug.
    Then I remember we didn’t.
    So I just say thanks.
    â€˜This is a great chance for you both to see the world,’ says Dad. ‘And to have a squiz at some top-class European soccer. We’ll probably never be able to afford to give you that chance ourselves, so we think you should grab it.’
    â€˜Thanks,’ I say again, feeling a bit wobbly with the shock of it all. ‘I promise I’ll look after Matt.’
    â€˜And he’ll look after you,’ says Mum. ‘Won’t you, Matt?’
    â€˜Yeah,’ says Matt. ‘Course.’
    But he’s looking at me with a worried expression.
    â€˜I might need help,’ he says to Mum and Dad.
    â€˜You’ll have some,’ says Dad.
    He gives a whistle and a huge grin appears in the doorway. It’s Mick Jagger’s grin on Uncle Cliff’s favourite Rolling Stones T-shirt, but inside it Uncle Cliff is grinning quite a lot as well.
    â€˜Rock ’n’ roll, dudes,’ he says. ‘Last one to the airport’s a bass player.’



When I was little and we still lived on the farm, it used to take ages to drive into town to my ballet class. Mum wouldn’t go more than seventy ks an hour. Fifty if I was doing leg-stretches in the back.
    Flying to England takes even longer.
    I keep wanting to say ‘are we there yet’ to Uncle Cliff, but he’s watching an old rock concert with his headphones on. Next to him Ken is busy doing important Premier League marketing stuff on his computer, also with his headphones on. And next to me, Matt is fast asleep.
    â€˜Hello there,’ says a voice.
    I look up.
    A lady has stopped by my seat. She’s probably not a flight attendant because she’s wearing yellow shorts and she’s got an inflatable cushion round her neck.
    â€˜Poor little poppet,’ she says. ‘Why are you looking so miserable?’
    I’m tempted to tell her how sad it was saying goodbye to Mum and Dad at the airport. How when they said ‘see you in a week’, all I could do was nod and hug them. How if things go well and Matt gets a contract with one of the world’s most famous soccer clubs, we might not see them for months.
    But I don’t say anything because the lady doesn’t give me the chance.
    â€˜There, there, it’s not so bad,’ she says, patting my arm. ‘You’re a very lucky girl, travelling in business class.’
    I explain to her I’m in business class because I’m going to England on business.
    â€˜Wow,’ she says. ‘It must be extremely important business if they’re sending a big girl like you to do it.’
    I tell her I’m not that big really, only forty-seven kilos. Then I explain I’m Matt’s manager and he’s going to be a Premier League soccer star. And because the lady seems interested in business, I tell her Matt will probably earn two hundred thousand pounds. I also explain that pounds are like dollars, but worth more.
    The lady chuckles like she knows something I don’t.
    â€˜Your brother will be a very