‘Gluten-free options?’ Miriam asks the waitress, who shakes her head. ‘Adam, I can’t believe it,’ Miriam huffs. ‘What decade are they living in?’ She settles on a fruit salad.

‘What’s a Yak Burger?’ I ask.

‘You probably don’t want to know,’ my father says. I order the same as Miriam but ask them to hold the yoghurt.

‘So Adam tells me you’re a vegan,’ Miriam says. ‘Well, good for you, dear. I just read an article in The New York Times that it’s the new fashion for Generation Z and meant to be the best thing you can do for the environment. Something about climate change and cow digestion, isn’t that right, Mike?’

My phone starts vibrating—it’s Oliver on video chat. Must be the middle of the night there; why is he up? But I can’t talk now, so I quickly press reject and put my phone away.

‘Yes, very admirable.’ Mike spreads a serviette on his lap. ‘Have you travelled before, Sky? Is this your first time in the US?’

‘My first time out of Australia,’ I say. ‘And first time seeing snow, too.’ I won’t tell them my whole list of firsts.

‘Once you have a taste for it,’ Miriam says, ‘travel, not snow, of course—you can’t go back, can you, Mike? We were in Paris last June and Berlin the summer before. Now that Mike’s retired—’

‘Not quite,’ he says.

‘In any case. Next trip, you’ll have to join us,’ she says.

‘Yes, you must,’ Mike says.

‘Sounds amazing,’ I say. European trip with my grandparents? Sign me up!

Our food arrives, and I feel Miriam staring at me.

‘Look at her gorgeous thick hair and her skin, porcelain like a doll,’ she says.

I touch my face without thinking. I have pale skin with smatterings of freckles. Never thought of it as gorgeous—just easily sunburnt.

‘Sadly, I never met your mother, Sky. But I can see from looking at you that she must have been a beauty.’

I bite my lip. My mum was beautiful, it’s true.

‘Now, Sky, you protect that gorgeous skin of yours. Did you know that even snow can bounce UV rays? Hopefully by the time you’re—’

She stops talking as my father’s phone rings loudly. He’s mid-bite, and maple syrup drips from his pancake onto his shirt. He looks at the number and presses reject.

‘Take the call outside if you need to,’ my grandfather says. The diversion gives me a second to check my phone again. Oliver’s sent more messages. What’s happening? You haven’t sent any clips and you’re not answering me! What was the drama with your dad? That’s awesome about grandparents—what are they like?

I see he’s sent a clip—I’ll watch it and reply to him later.

‘And use a napkin, for goodness sake, Adam,’ Miriam says.