Rat feels a wave of love for Jérôme, and for Florian, too.

“You know,” she says, suddenly. “Next year’s supposed to be the class trip to England.”

“I know. My year, we didn’t get to go because Madame Pujoulat was having a baby,” says Jérôme.

“I don’t think I wanna go, especially.”

“Why not?” Jérôme demands.

“Angélique and Marina are being such jerks, they keep on telling everybody, Rat’s English, she’ll be able to show us around, or Rat’s father lives in London, we can all go visit him. What am I supposed to say? ‘Actually, we’ve never met. We could be sitting next to each other on a bus and not recognize each other.’”

“So they’re jerks, but that’s no reason not to go on the trip,” says Jérôme, stoutly. “Everybody says it’s great. No way you’re chickening out, Rat.”

Sometimes Jérôme gets like that, all bossy and parental.

“It’s expensive. I don’t know if Vanessa’ll be able to come up with the scratch.”

They subside into silence.

“Do you ever think of looking your dad up, trying to get in touch with him?” asks Jérôme.

Rat considers. How can she explain it to Jérôme, who’s got both parents under one roof, an extended family still intact?

The honest answer would be that sometimes she doesn’t think about her father for six months at a time, and then suddenly something goes wrong: a teacher makes fun of her in front of the whole class; Thierry comes home drunk and starts laying into her real petty and mean, and Vanessa just laughs. And Rat finds herself thinking, Actually, I don’t belong here; I’d feel more at home in England.

These days it seems as if all the music she likes, all the video clips, the films, the fashions are British. She’ll download a track from The Libertines or The Streets, and her friends will go, Yuck, but to her, it sounds really soulful and funny and true, even if she can’t understand the words.

Lately, she’s been obsessing about her unknown father. Wondering if they might not have something in common. Feeling fed up with her mother’s side of the family. Thinking a change of genes might be oxygen. Gillem McKane as anti-Thierry.

“I don’t know anything about him,” she says, finally. “He might be dead for all I know.”

“You could try Googling him,” Jérôme suggests.

Rat reflects. “I never thought of that,” she admits. “I’m not sure if I want to. I don’t think I’m ready.”

“You should go on that class trip for sure,” Florian says, suddenly. “England’s a really cool place. If your mom won’t give you the money, I will.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.