Finding My Place

Amy has never really fitted in - but she doesn't mind. She has her own individual style and she's proud of it. Now she's left school - with only three GCSE's - she wants to get her music out there and prove to everyone that she can make something of her life, but it isn't as easy as Amy had hoped.

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1. The Beginning

I stepped onto Platform 3. Train ticket - check. Suitcase - check. Laptop - check. Purse - check. Camera - check. Guitar - check. Phone - check. Everything I needed. I felt anxious about the journey ahead of me. My heart beat picked up pace as the train pulled into the station and the rush of passengers streamed into the carriages. I managed to find a seat in the crowded train, placing my bag on it to save my place whilst I put my luggage in the luggage compartments. We pulled out of the station, and saying one more goodbye to Bradford, I stuck my earphones in and closed my eyes, letting the music take over me.

 

Since I was in primary school, my passion has been music. To be honest, it's the only thing I'm good at. I've finished school with three GCSEs...my mother wasn't pleased at all. She said that I needed to take life more seriously - so here I am, on my way to London, trying to make it in the music business. I'm a singer/songwriter, but I've only ever played two gigs at local pubs and written a song for a local band that no one has ever heard of. I suppose I'm a bit of an outsider, with my purple hair, and my music taste, but it's never bothered me. I prefer my own company, and my best friend Kyra is just as weird as me, so we suit each other. Ah, I'm going to miss Kyra. I tried to persuade her to come to London with me, but she's starting college soon. My parents are always comparing me to her. You see, although we're similar personality-wise, Kyra is a total swot, unlike me. But London is a big city, and if I try hard enough, maybe, just maybe, I can get the recognition I need and deserve through my music. 

 

The train arrived at Paddington Station, and I carted my luggage off, letting the stream of people drag me along, out of the train station. The large crowds intimidated me, but I had a feeling of excitement in my stomach. I found myself on a street called Praed Street and saw the tube station close by. I managed to find the right tube I needed to get to reach my hotel; an achievement for me!

 

At long last I made it to my destination; a budget hotel in a busy area of London. The outside looked a little dull and grey.  A bored looking receptionist was at the desk inside, typing away at her computer. She looked up momentarily.

'Yes?' she said, then looked back down at her computer. Rude! I decided I wouldn't stay in this hotel for long.

'I'm here to check in,' I said impatiently. 'Amy Davis. Three nights.'

'Let's have a look. Give me a sec,' she continued typing on her computer for a few minutes. 'Ah right, you're in Room 6. Here's your key.'

The whole time she hadn't looked up at me. In a huff, I unlocked my door and fell on to the bed. The room wasn't exactly luxury. I looked more like a hospital room than a hotel room. Everything was white - the walls, the bed, the bedside cabinet, wardrobe and most things in the bathroom. I was shattered, and soon found myself drifting off to sleep. 

 

The next morning I woke up early, and got dressed up in my best clothes; a white shirt, black pencil skirt and black tights - not my usual style, but I was job hunting, so it was essential that I looked my best. I scraped my hair back into a bun and applied my make up. I looked weird, not myself. It'd have to do for now. The only shoes I had were my battered old Converse. Not so smart then. Note to self: buy new shoes. I passed the rude receptionist on my way out, who was still typing away on her computer.

 

For a few hours I strolled around the city centre looking for work of some kind with no luck. I did, however, find someone advertising for a flatmate. The advert read:

HOUSEMATE NEEDED

Eighteen year old girl in need of a housemate. We will share the low rent cost. Bed provided! Contact me on the number below.

It sounded perfect - that was if my possible housemate was nice. I dialed her telephone number into my phone, which was an old Nokia, with faded buttons and a cracked screen. I've never been that interested in technology. I'm a bit hopeless.

'Hello?' a girl with a broad Scottish accent answered.

'Urm, hi. I'm Amy. I'm saw your housemate advertisement?'

'Ah, great! You wanna come around and take a look at the place?'

'Sure!'

'Okay, I'm on Rolle Street and I'm at Number 62. Oh - I'm Alexa by the way.'

'I'll be around in about an hour, if that's okay?'

'Yep. Bye!'

 

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