They were floating silently through the arch of a rainbow. It was like flying through a tunnel of shimmering colour. The fabric of the balloon fluttered gently in the breeze. The basket swayed softly.

No one said a word.

Nicola felt her shoulders sag. There was something about the sudden unexpected silence that was extremely relaxing. She looked at her friends and the rich colours flickering across their faces. If only Katie were here this would be one of those perfect memories that Nicola could store away in her mind ready to pull out next time she was stuck in a boring maths lesson.

Beneath them Shimlara’s angry fans and Philippe ran around in circles like furious ants.

Shimlara removed her cap. Her hair blew wild and curly in the breeze. Everyone smiled when they saw it and Shimlara chuckled. ‘Guess I’m just a dirty commoner like the rest of you.’

‘Did you like being a hairity?’ asked Nicola curiously. It was a relief to see Shimlara looking like herself again.

‘It was weird,’ said Shimlara. ‘It sort of went to my head in the beginning. I thought I really was amazing just because everyone was treating me that way.’

‘It went to your head, did it?’ said Sean, innocently. ‘Wow. I couldn’t tell at all.’

‘Okay, I know I went overboard. But even though I sort of loved it, it made me feel kind of lonely too. I missed being me.’

‘We missed you being you too,’ said Tyler.

He licked his finger and held it outside the balloon.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Greta.

‘I’m checking which way the wind is blowing.’

‘So how does licking your finger tell you that?’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Tyler. ‘My dad does it before he puts up the beach umbrella. It seemed like the right thing to do.’ He adjusted the burner of the balloon slightly and peered out over the edge of the basket. ‘Anyway, it looks like we’re heading in the right direction at the moment. Look. That’s the Cloud-Capped Mountain.’ He pointed towards the dramatic outline of a craggy mountain silhouetted crisply against a bright blue sky.

Nicola said, ‘We’re lucky with the weather. It’s a beautiful day.’

‘Yes.’ Shimlara squinted thoughtfully up at the blue sky. ‘Although don’t forget what Philippe said.’

Nicola had forgotten. ‘What did he say?’

‘Hey!’ At that moment a gust of cold air blew Greta’s hat straight off her head and whipped it away.

Nicola watched the cap being whirled this way and that and suddenly she remembered all too clearly what Philippe had said: They’ve forecast a minor hurricane . . .

She said cheerily, ‘At least they aren’t forecasting a major –’ She gulped on the word ‘hurricane’ as another gust of wind rocked the balloon and knocked her hard against Greta.