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


4. Chapter 3

We'd been there for less than an hour and I was already starving. That was the first difference of the day. I could usually make it until 12:30. It was 11:30. Not a good start Lewis. Difference number two was that I'd forgotten to pack an apple. I always brought an apple with me in case a situation like this arose. It appeared I was just going to have to go hungry until 12:30 when we would go and get something to eat, like a burger, hot dog or a good old sandwich. To be fair, the N.E.C did do some pretty good food.

As I thought about it, my stomach started to grumble, but I carried on walking with Darren for another ten minutes. We'd reached a branded stall, that he bought from all the time, when my stomach gurgled loudly. Everyone within one meter radius turned to look at me, including Darren. I went bright red and backed away to the neighbouring stall. He joined me five minutes later armed with a new plastic bag of trains. Kneeling down next to me, he started to pack them into his rucksack. One by one, he placed them lovingly into his purple bag. He was taking ages!

"You hungry son?" He asked as he got back up, grinning at me.

Grimacing, I nodded sheepishly and explained that I'd left my apple at home. I readied myself for a rollicking, but none came. He just rolled his eyes and dug around in his pocket. He'd obviously made a good purchase and was in an extra good mood.

"Here you go," he said after rummaging around in his pocket for what seemed like hours. He handed me an extremely creased five pound note.

"Go buy something to eat and drink and I'll meet you at the train in half an hour."

I nodded my agreement and waved to signal I was off. 'The train' was quite literally a train. As part of the exhibition, the N.E.C brought a different train every year and placed it in the centre of the hall. This year it was a large red steam engine. All the times I'd been, there had never been a red locomotive there. A diesel maybe, and occasionally a steam engine, but never as beautiful as this. I don't know wether it was the fact that I was going to get away from the train shopping, but I was starting to enjoy myself. Surrounding 'The train' were chairs and food stalls. It made a good place to meet up. Sometimes I quite like trains. I class them as my saviour.


I was waiting in the queue to buy a burger when I saw her. A girl in a dark green hoody, a black bag on her back and short wild hazel hair with ginger streaks running through it. She darted a quick look over her shoulder as she wove her way through a tangled mass of people. And what a face she had. It was a strong one, with perfect skin and freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks. Framed by a messy mop of flicked ends, she looked beautiful. I only glimpsed her for a couple of seconds before she disappeared, but I was completely captivated. Through the beauty, I saw something else. Fear.

My mind was overflowing with possibilities. It's like that all the time. I write lots of stories with my imagination and mental drama. Some are about if Mum didn't come home one night, or that my family had had a car accident while I was at school, and then there's my favourite pass time; World War 3. Whenever I'm bored, which is quite often, I imagine what it would be like. There are so many possibilities. So many different things people have predicted, but I think it'd be either computer based or zombie apocalypse style. I don't know, that's why I like to write. I don't like not knowing what is going to happen.

I tried to carry on thinking about World War 3, but it just didn't seem as catching anymore. I kept on mentally wondering back to the girl. I reached the front of the line, ordered, payed, and went to sit down. As soon as I found a seat, I started to eat my meal. It had never tasted so nice or so satisfying. I'd soon finished and looked at my watch. At 11:50 Darren said meet you in half an hour. It was only 12:00. I still had twenty minutes, and knowing him, he'd probably take another ten minutes after on top of that as well. I'd stood up to bin the plastic container I'd been eating out of when I saw her again.

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