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Me and my step dad have never really gotten on. I think that's why I've always pretended to be someone else for him. Don't do that. It doesn't work.

I've done all sorts of things to make him happy. For example, The Annual Train Exhibition in Birmingham. An exhibition on boxed model trains. The only reason I go, is to try and make him happy. Generally it works. But this year was different, and for once it wasn't entirely my fault. Unfortunately he didn't kn

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2. Chapter 1

Me and my step dad have never really gotten on. We've known each other since I was three. I'm fourteen now. I tend to irritate him. I really don't mean to. Sometimes I just seem to be a red flag, he's the bull, an our life is can be a China shop. But mum loves him, so I go with it. It's not like that all the time though. Partly he'll be nice and won't pick on me. That isn't often though. I don't like talking about dad. It's painful, so I'm not going to. However my step dad, Darren, says that 'it's important to talk and not bottle these things up.' Well, screw you. You can't tell me how to live my life, you don't know what it's like.

I'm often told that I have the wrong attitude; not with school, I'm good with my grades, not so with the social life though. I don't really belong anywhere with a group of people, or anyone as a matter of fact. I kind of drift around. You can't find me in the same place all the time, but there are a number of places I could be: finishing homework, reading in the library, being abstract in art or music. Lewis Canyon doesn't belong. Apparently I'm always thinking negative or trying too hard to do the right thing or not being helpful enough. It's just a constant stream of things that I need to do, and it kills me. I think that's why I've always pretended to be someone else for him. Don't do that. It doesn't work.

I've been on trips with him to some of the most boring places in Britain. For example, The Annual Train Exhibition in Birmingham. I mean seriously? An exhibition on boxed model trains. I couldn't care less! No one in there right minds would go to that! Five hours of walking around an endless hall at the N.E.C with old men everywhere, a huge bag on your back and nothing to eat. But still we go every year, just the two of us. He thinks I enjoy it, if you hadn't guessed, I don't. The only reason I go, is to try and make him happy. Generally it works. But this year was different, and for once it wasn't entirely my fault. Unfortunately he didn't know that.

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