1. The Airport
“They’re over there!” shrieked a hysterical teenaged girl. She wore what some people would call a “mask” of makeup (although her boyfriend would strongly object).
Moments later there was a screech of footsteps, squeaking against the polished airport floor. The mob of teenagers rioted through the departments hall, pursuing their next victim. To them, this was all fun and games. To their prey, not so much.
Around twenty metres ahead of them were two young boys. One jogged slightly ahead of the other, dragging his friends along with him. He was slightly plump, with messy, jet-black hair and dark, tanned skin. The other was thin and lanky, who wore the clothes any “cool” teenager would wear, but it just drooped from his skinny frame.
“Let’s just let them get us this time.” Freddie gasped, clutching his side. His face had turned raspberry-red from his effort. “I can’t run anymore Manish.”
Manish ignored him as he scanned the airport for an escape route. In the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the large crowd that rapidly approached them. Marcus, the leader of the gang, had a growing smirk etched on his face – clearly at the thought that the two boys had finally given up.
Manish wondered what on earth had crossed his mind when he decided to go on the school trip in the first place. At first, two weeks skiing in Austria seemed like a perfect excuse for relaxation and pushing back exam revision. That was before he realised who exactly were going to be joining them.
“Come on,” he urged, grabbing Freddie’s bony wrist and dragging him along with him.
A boy from the mob yelled, “You can’t run for long Chubby!”
By this point, Manish was exhausted and all hope that Miss Jenkins would spot them and save them from impending doom had vanished. He had come to realise that he had no idea where the pair of them were actually heading.
Manish stopped in his tracks when Freddie let out a high-pitched scream. Freddie flew headfirst into a disgusting-looking bin, filled halfway with half-eaten McDonalds, crisps and cold coffee. Almost grudgingly, he ran towards him and seized his legs that towered out of the bin like a streetlamp.
The bin tipped over and spilled its contents. Hastily, Freddie scrambled to his feet, whining at his horrific appearance. “Look at me!” He exclaimed, “My Vans! My Hollister jumper!”
Privately, Manish though that perhaps he was better off spoiling his clothes anyway; he looked ridiculous as it was, but his choice of clothing just made him look more comical than ever.
Glancing back, Manish noticed that the gang had been spotted by the security and had thankfully retreated.
“Chickens.” Freddie muttered, brushing crisp crumbs off his jeans. But only moments later, his eyes widened. “Hey Manish, look! That security dude’s heading this way!”
The guards had split into two, one of them taking the crowds tail, the other going in their direction.
“Brilliant,” Manish muttered to himself.
It took them a few moments to realise that he wasn’t actually looking at them but at something directly behind them. It took them a few more minutes to realise that he wasn’t a security guard at all, but just a guy wearing sunglasses and a similar style of clothing.
“Close one,” Manish grinned. “We were fooled Freddie.”
“Score!” Freddie yelled, rather awkwardly in attempt to imitate some of the other guys in his year. “So where do we go now?”