“Well…” I had to choose the most parent-friendly info I had from the almost zero info available to me. “She’s sixteen.” Probably. “Named Holly.” Unless she’s a catfish named Roger. “Is super close with her family.” If that was her family in those dorky matching Christmas outfits. “And loves dogs. A lot.”

“I see,” Dad said again.

“And…” Time for my killer blow. “She lives in Little Marsh.”

Mom put down her wine—I knew this would throw her off. “As in…my Little Marsh?”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded. My math might suck, but I was a master of the parental mind. “With the duck pond. So, like, we chatted.” I was steamrollering the information through. “It would probably be for a week. I could go to London, see where you grew up, visit some really old stuff, y’know…all the things I’ve been dying to do. And the flights for both of us would be free.”

Silence.

I smiled as if this was no big thing and passed Mom my phone. I hoped they couldn’t see my hand shaking.

“We’d have to think about this very carefully, Elly.” Mom was looking with suspicion at Holly’s profile. “Do some proper research—really find out about her…and who you’d be staying with.”

Dad was looking too. “We’ll need to have a chat with her parents. A real one. It’s a big decision. For them as well.”

“Of course.” I nodded. The more confident I sounded, the more they’d think I could handle it. “I’ll send you her profile. I mean, we all need to be happy this is a good idea.” I paused. “Everyone I’ve told’s been really into it. Dove’s been sending me lots of tips.” See, parents—see how this is a good thing already!? “And in principle, if you like Holly, you still wouldn’t mind her staying here too?” First rule of big parent questions—make them sound as casual as you can.

Dad raised his eyebrow. “Like we said, Elly, one step at a time.” I couldn’t help but smile at him. He always knew what I was up to. “And what does your brother say?”

I smiled. “I’m sure li’l bro will be down for it.”

Nick hated when I called him that. So I did it as much as I could.

“Down for what?” Awesome. This was the second he chose to stumble downstairs. He was in his usual uniform—band T-shirt, sweatpants, dark hair that had zero style and just grew. I thought older sisters were supposed to have little brothers under their thumbs? Mine did not play by the rules. Maybe it’s because I was only sixteen minutes and thirty-four seconds older.