Elsie+Locke+2011

__Tuesday 14 June__

I neared the front of the line as the screams of children grew louder. Although I was short compared to most of my friends, I felt tall against these people. I hoped that no one I knew, other than my friend Ava who was here with me, would walk past and see me here amongst all the little kids on the juniors roller coaster. There was absolutely no way that I could start with one of the more age appropriate rides. I have a chronic fear of roller coasters. Actually I was afraid of most things thrilling and fun that others loved, even fast boat rides were super extreme for me. I wasn’t even sure that the bribe I was getting was worth this.

“One ticket please.” The ticket man told me as I was about to go through the gates. This was it. Too late to back out now. I gave a quick glance backwards at Ava, the one that got me into all this. Great, she had gotten out her video camera, now I would be reminded of this forever.

Walking through the gates was just a vague blur of nervousness. I was shaking as I climbed into the cart and strapped myself in. Some giggling kids, probably about nine got in next to me. The roller coaster rolled to a start and went towards the steep upwards slant. I felt like screaming already, but I knew I had to hold off a little longer before I humiliated myself even more. I leaned backwards, but it was involuntary, the force of gravity pulling me down while the roller coaster gathered speed upwards. The cart reached the top of the slant, hovering for a split second making me feel more queasy. All I wanted was to get down.

My wish came true. The cart plunged downwards, cold air whipped my face and dried out my eyes. Instantly I wondered why I had wanted to get down, being at the top was so much better than this. I tried closing my eyes to stop them from drying even more and block out what was happening around me, but all that did was make me feel like I was trapped in a bad dream, not knowing where I was going and where this awful ride was taking me. It was painful peeling my eyes open, but better than keeping them closed and staying closed off in the endless blackness. The bright colour of the track attacked my eyes as soon as they opened, like tiny daggers flying towards them.

We swerved violently around a corner making me fall into a sideways lean. People laughed and smiled, all I could do was scream, I realized that I had been since we got to the top of the slant. The cart straightened up, slowing down and driving onto a straight part.

Ava came into my view as the roller coaster eased to a stop. She waved wildly at me smiling brightly. My hands fingered the buckle of the belt that strapped me in and unclipped it. Stepping onto the ground was like stepping onto little bits of rubber floating on a jolting sea, the rubber trying to float out from under me. I walked through the exit gate and glanced across at the line I had waited in before. That was truly the worst minute of my life.

__Monday 13 June__

I neared the front of the line as the screams of children grew louder. Although I was short compared to most of my friends, I felt tall against these people. I hope that no one I knew, other than my friend Ava who was here with me, would walk past and see me here amongst all the little kids on the juniors roller coaster, but there was no way that I could start with the one that was designed for people my age. I have a chronic fear of roller coasters. Actually I was afraid of most things thrilling and fun that others loved, even fast boat rides were super extreme for me. I wasn’t even sure that the bribe I was getting was worth this. “One ticket please.” The ticket man told me as I was about to go through the gates. This was it. Too late to back out now. I gave a quick glance backwards at Ava, the one that got me into all this. Great, she had gotten out her video camera, now I would be reminded of this forever.

Walking through the gates was just a vague blur of nervousness. I was shaking as I climbed into the cart and strapped myself in. Some giggling kids, probably about nine got in next to me. The Roller Coaster rolled to a start and went towards the steep upwards slant. I felt like screaming already but I knew I had to hold off a little longer before I humiliated myself even more. I leaned backwards, but it was involuntary, the force of gravity pulling me while down while the roller coaster gathered speed upwards. The cart reached the top of the slant, the cart hovering for a split second making me feel more queasy looking out over the to of the theme park. All I wanted was to get down. My wish came true. The cart plunged downwards, cold air whipped my face and dried out my eyes. Instantly I wondered why I had wanted to get down, being at the top was so much better than this. I tried closing my eyes to stop them from drying even more and block out what was happening around me, but all that did was make me feel like I was trapped in a bad dream, not knowing where I was going and where this awful ride was taking me. It was painful peeling my eyes open, but better than keeping them closed and staying closed off in the endless blackness. The bright colour of the track attacked my eyes as soon as they opened, like tiny daggers flying towards them. We swerved violently around a corner making me fall into a sideways lean. People laughed and smiled, all I could do was scream, I realized that I had been since we got to the top of the slant. The cart straightened up, slowing down and driving onto a straight part. Ava came into my view as the roller coaster eased to a stop. She waved wildly at me smiling brightly. My hands fingered the buckle of the belt that strapped me in and unclipped it. Stepping onto the ground was like stepping onto little bits of rubber floating on a jolting sea, the rubber trying to float out from under me. I walked through the exit gate and glanced across at the line I had waited in before. Worst way ever to travel about 20 meters.

__Monday 13 June__

**Next Steps - Target** **Rose be careful with run on sentences & small paragraphs in stages of the roller coaster ride.**

**I hope that no one I knew, other than my friend Ava who was here with me, would walk past and see me here amongst all the little kids on the juniors roller coaster, but there was no way that I could start with the one that was designed for people my age.**

**I hope that no one I knew, other than my friend Ava who was here with me, would walk past and see me here amongst all the little kids on the juniors roller coaster. There was absolutely no way that I could start with the ride that was designed for people my age.**

I neared the front of the line as the screams of children grew louder. Although I was short compared to most of my friends, I felt tall against these people. I hope that no one I knew, other than my friend Ava who was here with me, would walk past and see me here amongst all the little kids on the juniors roller coaster, but there was no way that I could start with the one that was designed for people my age. I have a chronic fear of roller coasters. Actually I was afraid of most things thrilling and fun that others loved, even fast boat rides were super extreme for me. I wasn’t even sure that the bribe I was getting was worth this. “One ticket please.” The ticket man told me as I was about to go through the gates. This was it. Too late to back out now. I gave a quick glance backwards at Ava, the one that got me into all this. Great, she had gotten out her video camera, now I would be reminded of this forever.

Walking through the gates was just a vague blur of nervousness. I was shaking as I climbed into the cart and strapped myself in. Some giggling kids, probably about nine got in next to me. The Roller Coaster rolled to a start and went towards the steep upwards slant. I felt like screaming already but I knew I had to hold off a little longer before I humiliated myself even more. I leaned backwards, but it was involuntary, the force of gravity pulling me while down while the roller coaster gathered speed upwards. The cart reached the top of the slant, the cart hovering for a split second making me feel more queasy looking out over the to of the theme park. All I wanted was to get down. My wish came true. The cart plunged downwards, cold air whipped my face and dried out my eyes. Instantly I wondered why I had wanted to get down, being at the top was so much better than this. I tried closing my eyes to stop them from drying even more and block out what was happening around me, but all that did was make me feel like I was trapped in a bad dream, not knowing where I was going and where this awful ride was taking me. It was painful peeling my eyes open, but better than keeping them closed and staying closed off in the endless blackness. The bright colour of the track attacked my eyes as soon as they opened, like tiny daggers flying towards them. We swerved violently around a corner making me fall into a sideways lean. People laughed and smiled, all I could do was scream, I realized that I had been since we got to the top of the slant. The cart straightened up, slowing down and driving onto a straight part. Ava came into my view as the roller coaster eased to a stop. She waved wildly at me smiling brightly. My hands fingered the buckle of the belt that strapped me in and unclipped it. Stepping onto the ground was like stepping onto little bits of rubber floating on a jolting sea, the rubber trying to float out from under me. I walked through the exit gate and glanced across at the line I had waited in before. Worst way ever to travel about 20 meters.

__Friday 10 June__

I neared the fount of the line as the screams of children grew louder. Although I was short compared to most of my friends, I felt tall against these people. I hope that no one I knew would walk past and see me here amongst all the little kids on the juniors roller coaster, but there was no way that I could start with the others my age. I have a chronic fear of roller coasters. Actually I was afraid of most things thrilling and fun that others loved, even fast boat rides were super extreme for me. I wasn’t even sure that the bribe I was getting was worth this. “One ticket please.” The ticket man told me as I was about to go through the gates. This was it. Too late to back out now. I gave a quick glance backwards at my friend Ava, the one that got me into all this. Great, she had gotten out her video camera, now I would be reminded of this forever.

Walking through the gates was just a vague blur of nervousness. I was shaking as I climbed into the cart and strapped myself in. Some giggling kids, probably about nine got in next to me. The Roller Coaster rolled to a start and went towards the steep upwards slant. I felt like screaming already but I knew I had to hold off a little longer before I humiliated myself even more. I leaned backwards, but it was involuntary the force of gravity pulling me while the roller coaster gathered speed. The cart reached the top of the slant, the cart hovering for a split second making me feel more queasy looking out over the to of the theme park. All I wanted was to get down. My wish came true. The cart plunged downwards, cold air whipped my face and dried out my eyes. Instantly I wondered why I had wanted to get down, being at the top was so much better than this. I tried closing my eyes to stop them from drying even more and close off what was happening around me, but all that did was make me feel like I was trapped in a bad dream, not knowing where I was going and where this awful ride was taking me. It was painful peeling my eyes open, but better than keeping them closed and staying closed off in the endless blackness. The bright colour of the track attacked my eyes as soon as they opened, like tiny daggers flying towards them. We swerved violently around a corner making me fall into a sideways lean. People laughed and smiled, all I could do was scream, and I realized that I had been since we got to the top of the slant. The cart straightened up, slowing down and driving onto a straight part. Ava came into my view as the roller coaster eased to a stop. She waved wildly at me smiling brightly. My hands fingered the buckle of the belt that strapped me in shaking. The ground was like stepping onto little bits of rubber floating on a jolting sea and trying to float out from under me. I walked through the exit gate and glanced across at the line I had waited in before. Worst way ever to travel about 20 meters.

__Thursday 9 June__

I stared down at the necklace my grandma had left me. She was a strange woman, all her life she had hated me and now that she was dead I had inherited the gold necklace with the diamond pendant. But maybe she actually did hate me and this was deliberate, she must have know that people would come after me. Yes, I am on the run. About a week after I inherited the necklace some scary looking guys come to my door. “Hand it over” They said. I made the mistake of talking back to them, something I will never do to someone twice my size again. He had gotten really psycho about wanting the necklace, he said that if I didn’t hand it over he would kill me and my friends and family. “I will give you three days.” He told me. “ Three days until I come back and take it.” This had to be more than just some guy money seeking. I walked over to my computer and flipped the necklace over so that the manufacturer’s logo could be viewed on the back and started typing in into google. I clicked a website that came up from the search, actually, instead of there being like 3000 or something results there was only one. The website was basic and unattractive looking. There was a text box with a label above ‘Describe your piece of jewelry’ the text said.

__Wednesday 8 June__

Bang!!!! It was the gong over in the corner. Typical, while my best friend Lilliee was trying to sneak in and save me she had tripped onto it. “Seize her!” The guard yelled pointing at Lilliee. The colour drained from her face as they all started running towards her, waving their scary looking weapons. “Ok” I said “I’ll tell you where it is.” The guards backed off from around Lilliee and loosened their grip on me. “Only if you promise to never come near me or anyone that’s my friends or family. And I’m coming with you to get it.”

Next thing I know we were in the airport in Italy. Lilliee had gone home to make sure that her parents didn’t worry about her. Now I was in this mess on my own. It all started about a month ago, my grandma had passed away and left me her gold and diamond necklace. I had no idea that she even had it. She wasn’t the sort of grandma that wore flashy stuff like that, and she gave it to me instead my older sister who she had always liked more than me, but maybe the old age had got to her. Then, a week later the guard guys with the big weapons had hunted me down and told me to hand the necklace over or they would kill me, my family and everyone else I loved. This had to be more than just a valuable necklace for a some guy to get that psycho. Then I made the mistake of asking him why he cared about it, that’s when he tried to handcuff me. I should have just handed the necklace over and never known what it could have done, but that would be like murder. That night I researched the label on the necklace. ‘Type your surname’

__Tuesday 7 June__

The girl held me down firmly. “Don’t move” She said threateningly Scary looking people with big weapons surrounded us making me even more nervous. “Where is she?” The girl shouted in my face. I knew exactly who she was talking about, but why she wanted her I had no idea. I really didn’t want to betray Stephanie by telling them where she was but it looked like I had no choice, it was her or me. Or more likely both of us. Stephanie was my best friend until about a month ago when she disappeared mysteriously. I

__Thursday 2 June 2011__

Lauren made an attempt to look disappointed that I was leaving - a failed attempt. Dad on the other hand looked as though he was fighting tears. “Come and see us whenever you want.” He told me. This made Lauren’s fake expression become more real. “I will” I said in response. “All passengers London to Paris boarding now, gate 3.” The Voice said over the speaker. Dad stiffened all over. “Bye Dad, Lauren” They waved as I walked to gate three lugging my suitcase with me. I climbed onto the train and found myself a seat. The train turned out to be amazing, the seats fuzzy and a vibrant red, there seemed to be every thing slotted into a train without it even having to be crammed in. “Last call for gate three to Paris” The voice said a few minutes later. After a few people rushed onto the train looking flustered the train began to roll to a start, then stopped again abruptly.The doors opened and again. A girl about my age, maybe older walked in. She didn’t look flustered at all about almost missing the train, in fact I think she looked more relaxed than I did. It was quite cold in the train station so she was wearing a thick furry coat and tight jeans with thick fluffy boots. “Can I sit here?” She asked in a french accent indicating at the seat next to me. “Sure” I told her smiling. She sat down and shrugged off her coat letting her long dark hair out from under the collar and flowing down her shoulders. “I’m Isabella, Bella for short” She told me. “I’m Crista” I said She grinned beautifully showing her pearly white teeth. Everything about Bella seemed perfect, she was gorgeous, someone I would kill to look like and her personality was great to, she had an amazing amount of confidence and was so easy to get along with, I was so glad that of anyone I could end up next to and a long train ride it was Bella. She told me about her life and how she lived in France till she was 13. She lived with adoptive parents that she loved like real ones and got on with fine. The only thing was that she didn’t know about them being adoptive until she was 13. She told me how she hated them for it for about a week and then left to England to find her birth parents. “Basically I didn’t have the instant connection with them that I thought I would. I never got to meet my dad but I assume he was as horrible as my mother was. It turned out that the nicest thing she ever did for me was adopt me out. I kidded myself that I liked her for about a year but then I cracked. There was no way I could stand living with her anymore. I decided to leave England and go back to my adoptive parents in France, but then the day I was leaving I met Gerald. I was walking from my mother’s house to the train station, it was a long walk so I decided to just take the whole day and walk through some of the designer shops on my way. I have expensive taste but had never been able to go into the shops that I wanted to. Now was my chance. In the first shop I went into I bumped into Gerald. Literally. Gerald is the owner of an international model agency. After I had bumped into him he told me he wanted me to work for him and I explained how I had to go back to France before I killed my horrible Mother. Gerald simply just told me no. He said he would not allow any other agencies snatch me up when I went back, So he took me to his agency office. He got me to do a photo shoot and then walk on the runway. He was sold on me, I had to point out to him again that I had nowhere to live in England and he offered to let me live with him. He had lived with models before, ones that he had taken in with situations similar to mine. Living with Gerald was great, the agency was just off to the side of his house so there was always people to talk to. There were a few girls that were my age, but most older. It didn’t matter though we were all good friends. I loved life with Gerald and at the agency so I lived happily with him for two years. Now, here I am, I’m going to visit the french parents. For about a year. I’ve been keeping in touch with them ever since I lived with Gerald. So there you have it, my life story.” I was slightly stunned by what Bella had just told me, but then again it wasn’t surprising that someone beautiful like her was a model. “So what about you?” Bella asked “Tell me about yourself.” “Okay” I said “Well my parents were hippies. We lived in a caravan when I was a baby, and went to festivals, we lived like this until I was four. Mainly we were In Europe, but there were many places in the world we visited. A few weeks after my fourth birthday my parents marriage broke up. Both of my parents settled down and threw away the hippie life, Mum went to France and became an artist. She lived in a beautiful large house with an amazing view of the sea that the sun rises over and on the other side of the house a view of the city and all the nice looking buildings that the sun sets over. She still lives in that house actually, it’s just out of paris, that’s where I’m going now. Anyway, she moved there and Dad moved to england and became an author. I lived with him after the divorce until now. I still kept in touch with my mother but only went back to France a couple of times. I liked living in England until the girl who used to be my best friend turned on me. She started drinking and going out to parties and other stuff I didn’t want to get involved in, so when I told her that what she was doing was bad for her and I didn’t want her to get hurt she completely turned on me. She gathered a couple of minions that were desperate for someone to be friends with and got them to follow her every move, they made my life miserable. I had other friends but they already had their special groups and it was hard to get into them. I could tell they didn’t want me around, plus even if they did want me there, nothing could cancel out the fact that I was being traumatized by my ex best friend. About a week after the bullying started I got home and my dad was sitting on the couch with a woman I had never met before. Dad introduced her to me, her name was Lauren. Lauren was his new girlfriend. I almost instantly hated her, she was lovely in front of my dad but behind his back she would be horrible to me and I could tell that she thought I was just a waste of space and a nuance. So eventually I got sick of my life in England and decided I wanted to live with Mum. So here I am now.” “Wow” Bella said. “I’m so sorry about that.” “Thats okay.” I told her. “Also, when I was still a hippie child I had hip length dread locks.” I watched Isabella’s face shift to my shoulder strawberry blonde hair and then crack into a smile.

The train drew to a stop in the paris city center as I finished pressing Bella’s number into my phone as she stood up to get off. “This was surprisingly an enjoyable train ride.” She said to me “Nice meeting you.” “Nice to meet you too.” She waved at me cheerily as she walked towards the door. “Merci du grand voyage” She said in French to the ticket man as she walked out. Something on the seat that Isabella had left just caught my eye. It was a button. I lent down to pick it up, it was quite a beautiful looking button, sort of a coppery colour with a strange kind of pattern on it darting mainly around the edges. Strangely, I couldn’t remember Bella having a button like this on her coat, but maybe I was just imagining things. It was too bad that Bella had left before I could give it back, but anyway it was just a button. Things like lost buttons probably didn’t matter to girls like Isabella, she told me she gets lots of clothes free form her job. I pocketed the button and leaned back in my seat. Only about 20 minuets until I would be with Mum on our way back to the house.

Mum was just as I remembered her from the last time I saw her about a year ago when I went on Holiday to the USA with her. I had emailed and talked to her on the phone since then, but It was nothing like seeing her in person. Her blonde hair still swished loosely and waved down just above her hips. The way she moved was still just like she always had, grace fully as though the ground would slip from underneath her. “Crista!!” Mum yelled giving me a hug when she saw me get off the train. We went back to Mum’s house chatting all the way there, we talked about how the train ride went, how life was in England and the previous times we saw each other. Mum and I got along so easily that It made me wonder why I had gone to England with dad in the first place. “You’ll be starting school tomorrow,” She told me. “I’ve you enrolled in one just a few blocks away. It’ll take you just over half an hour to walk.” Great. I wouldn’t even have time to enjoy France or life with Mum before my life got taken over with school. Also, I needed to brush up on my French. “Please don’t make me go” I begged. “Your going.” She said, her tone final. That was that. Once she made up her mind once and for all there was no way to sway her. I shrunk back in my seat feeling defeated, when I felt something heating in my pocket. I instantly reached for my pocket, the only thing in there was the button I had found. I slipped the button out of my pocket without Mum noticing. It was definitely burning, the pattern around the outside was flaring up completely and the entire thing had brightened. A sudden surge went through the button as it flared up even more. “Maybe you could just start school on monday.” Mum said suddenly. “Okay.” I said in response, too shocked to say anything else. Mum had changed her mind. This was a first, but I couldn't help think it wasn’t her decision.

I woke up in the morning to the smell of bacon. This was a first, my mum is a hopeless cook. I walked down the spiraling stair case to see what was going on, looking at all the paintings as I went. I finally got to the bottom of the stairs to find mum sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine “Qui fait cuire?” I asked her. It means who’s cooking. Mum laughed “Good to see your learning your French.” Mum said, “You didn’t think it was me did you? That’s Stephanie. She’s pretty much our extra pair of hands. She cooks, cleans and does anything else that needs doing. Come meet her.” Mum tuned on her heel and walked towards the kitchen indicating for me to follow her. When we got to the kitchen, there was a girl standing over the stove flipping bacon. She was small but still looked a lot older than me. “Stephanie, ceci est ma fille Crista” Mum said introducing us. Stephanie smiled at me “Nice to meet you Crista. Very sorry my english, is umm... not good.” Mum smiled. “Le Français de Crista n'est pas que bon non plus” Mum told Stephanie. It means Crista’s french isn’t very good. Well I think it does anyway.

After breakfast mum told me we would be going shopping in the city center, maybe even go to the ifel tower and see some of the French culture. “Stephanie can come to, it’ll be great for you and her to get the chance to make friends” Mum said. I couldn’t see this working out, all I could picture is us walking around town, mum talking in french to fast for me to understand with Stephanie and still trying to hold a conversation with me. I just wanted to spend more time with mum before I focused on making friends with our house keeper. “Mum...” I said starting to protest and trying no to sound too mean. I trailed off feeling a burning in my pocket. The button. I had been carrying it around with me since I found it on the train yesterday. I no longer needed to say anything else. “No don’t worry it will probably be too hard with the language barrier between you too. We’ll just go on our own.” Mum said. Why was she changing her mind again? What was this button doing to her?

I looked at the price tag and my face fell. 100 euros (176 NZD). Mum had gone to the grocery store and left me with some money for clothes I had spent it all except 90. This jacket was the thing I had wanted the most. “You are lucky you came in today.” The shop lady told me. “There is a special finishing tomorrow. It goes back up to 130.” My heart sank even more. The jacket was already reduced. “Are you sure you can’t reduce it any more?” I asked her. “There is no way I can do that sweetie. These clothes are cheep for only a few of a kind. There will only be 10 people in the world with these jackets.” I sighed and put the jacket back on the shelf. Suddenly that burning feeling came back to my pocket. “You know,” She said “You can have it for 90. A special deal for you dear.” This was amazing. I took out my money and paid for the jacket for feeling a tinge of guilt for ripping the shop lady off. On the other hand, I loved the button. I could use it for anything I needed. This could get me anything I wanted in my life, I could keep this button forever. It would be my secret to a happy life.

I walked out of the shop and saw Mum walking towards me. “Was the language okay? Could you talk to the shop people?” She said “One lady spoke english, but with the rest of them all I had to do was hand them money.” I told her. “All, right, lets go to the Ifell tower.Puissance du bouton.” I had no idea what mum meant by that, but I didn’t ask, she had that look on her face that she always does when she says something irrelevant.

//I walked through the long dark hallway, shadows casting over me as I went. I got to the end and there was a room, dark and shadowy. The only light in the room was a dim lantern in the corner. There was someone in the room. My mum. She was saying something to me// //“Puissance du bouton” She said.// //Her voice sounded different than normal. It was creepy and soft, kind of zombie like, instead of her normal kind and bouncy sound. There was someone else’s voice too, I walked into the room and found that there were two other people in the room, none of which seemed to notice me there. One of the people was Isabella and the other was the shop lady. They were all talking, all of their voiced different to how they were before. I couldn’t understand most of what they were saying but there was one phrase that stuck out and kept ringing in my ears. Puissance du bouton. The same phrase that mum had said in town today. The phrase kept being repeated in the conversation.//

I woke up freaking out. What was going on with this? Why was I dreaming about The shop lady, Isabella and mum? Two of these people I had only met once in my life. There was something going on, and I was going to find out what, first starting with getting my French book and finding out what puissance du bouton meant. I went over to my book cabinet to find that my French book wasn’t there. This was even more strange. Someone had removed my books, why would anyone want my books?. Or probably more likely, why does someone not want me to have them?

Downstairs mum was sitting on the couch flipping through the magazine like she was yesterday. The house had the same smell as it did yesterday too. This may have been the morning routine for mum but there was an odd sense of dé jah vu about it. “Have you seen my French books?” I asked her “Why would I touch your French books?” She asked me. “Well some has, anyway what does ‘puissance du bouton’ mean? I keep hearing it.” Mum put down her magazine. “I have to take this call.” She said pulling out her phone and walking away. “What, ummm...... is mal.” A voice said from behind me. I spun round and saw Stephanie standing behind me. Mal means wrong I think. “Just mum, being odd. It’s okay though. Nous le travaillerons dehors” Stephanie looked vaguely confused as I finished talking and then walked off into the kitchen. How rude, i was thinking until I saw her reappear carrying a plate. “For you.” She said handing it to me. The plate had bacon and waffles on it. The waffles and bacon were cut up and arranged into a smiley face, i looked up at Stephanie and she was wearing an expression similar to the bacon. I hugged her tightly, a gesture that you can understand in french and english. “Thank you” I said. I have to admit that for some reason I didn’t like her when I first moved in, but from this moment on despite the language barrier and that she was three years older than me we became great friends.

My alarm clock beeped loudly, thank fully it interrupted my horrible dream, one similar to the one with Isabella, mum and the shop lady, except this one had more people. Stephanie’s boyfriend, that I had met yesterday when he came to pick her up. He was mean to her and it annoyed me, then I used the button. The man that wanted to buy one of mums best paintings but was trying to rip her off and not pay as much, I had used the button on him too. Mum seemed even more zombie- like than the others too. Anyway the alarm clock was beeping, this meant my first day of school. Five days had been past already since I had got to france.

Walking into the class room was terrifyingly nerve racking, all the kids stared at me as I bustled in late. The teacher introduced me to them and showed me a seat in front of a big blonde guy. He smiled at me, “Fille, vous êtes très beau.” He said to me. Good lord, I think he was trying to hit on me in French. I smiled at him instead of responding properly in case I had got it wrong. The teacher told me to get up in front of he class and tell them about myself. Yeah, great idea, get up in front of a class where most of them spoke little to no English and all I can do is stumble over French words. But I could tell that I had no choice, so I used my button. I was starting to get control over the button, instead of it just burning up magicily

__Monday 30th May__

Lauren made an attempt to look disappointed that I was leaving - a failed attempt. Dad on the other hand looked as though he was fighting tears. “Come and see us whenever you want.” He told me. This made Lauren’s fake expression become more real. “I will” I said in response. “All passengers London to Paris boarding now, gate 3.” The Voice said over the speaker. Dad stiffened all over. “Bye Dad, Lauren” They waved as I walked to gate three lugging my suitcase with me. I climbed onto the train and found myself a seat. The train turned out to be amazing, the seats fuzzy and a vibrant red, there seemed to be every thing slotted into a train without it even having to be crammed in. “Last call for gate three to Paris” The voice said a few minutes later. After a few people rushed onto the train looking flustered the train began to roll to a start, then stopped again abruptly.The doors opened and again. A girl about my age, maybe older walked in. She didn’t look flustered at all about almost missing the train, in fact I think she looked more relaxed than I did. It was quite cold in the train station so she was wearing a thick furry coat and tight jeans with thick fluffy boots. “Can I sit here?” She asked in a french accent indicating at the seat next to me. “Sure” I told her smiling. She sat down and shrugged off her coat letting her long dark hair out from under the collar and flowing down her shoulders. “I’m Isabella, Bella for short” She told me. “I’m Crista” I said She grinned beautifully showing her pearly white teeth. Everything about Bella seemed perfect, she was gorgeous, someone I would kill to look like and her personality was great to, she had an amazing amount of confidence and was so easy to get along with, I was so glad that of anyone I could end up next to and a long train ride it was Bella. She told me about her life and how she lived in France till she was 13. She lived with adoptive parents that she loved like real ones and got on with fine. The only thing was that she didn’t know about them being adoptive until she was 13. She told me how she hated them for it for about a week and then left to England to find her birth parents. “Basically I didn’t have the instant connection with them that I thought I would. I never got to meet my dad but I assume he was as horrible as my mother was. It turned out that the nicest thing she ever did for me was adopt me out. I kidded myself that I liked her for about a year but then I cracked. There was no way I could stand living with her anymore. I decided to leave England and go back to my adoptive parents in France, but then the day I was leaving I met Gerald. I was walking from my mother’s house to the train station, it was a long walk so I decided to just take the whole day and walk through some of the designer shops on my way. I have expensive taste but had never been able to go into the shops that I wanted to. Now was my chance. In the first shop I went into I bumped into Gerald. Literally. Gerald is the owner of an international model agency. After I had bumped into him he told me he wanted me to work for him and I explained how I had to go back to France before I killed my horrible Mother. Gerald simply just told me no. He said he would not allow any other agencies snatch me up when I went back, So he took me to his agency office. He got me to do a photo shoot and then walk on the runway. He was sold on me, I had to point out to him again that I had nowhere to live in England and he offered to let me live with him. He had lived with models before, ones that he had taken in with situations similar to mine. Living with Gerald was great, the agency was just off to the side of his house so there was always people to talk to. There were a few girls that were my age, but most older. It didn’t matter though we were all good friends. I loved life with Gerald and at the agency so I lived happily with him for two years. Now, here I am, I’m going to visit the french parents. For about a year. I’ve been keeping in touch with them ever since I lived with Gerald. So there you have it, my life story.” I was slightly stunned by what Bella had just told me, but then again it wasn’t surprising that someone beautiful like her was a model. “So what about you?” Bella asked “Tell me about yourself.” “Okay” I said “Well my parents were hippies. We lived in a caravan when I was a baby, and went to festivals, we lived like this until I was four. Mainly we were In Europe, but there were many places in the world we visited. A few weeks after my fourth birthday my parents marriage broke up. Both of my parents settled down and threw away the hippie life, Mum went to France and became an artist. She lived in a beautiful large house with an amazing view of the sea that the sun rises over and on the other side of the house a view of the city and all the nice looking buildings that the sun sets over. She still lives in that house actually, it’s just out of paris, that’s where I’m going now. Anyway, she moved there and Dad moved to england and became an author. I lived with him after the divorce until now. I still kept in touch with my mother but only went back to France a couple of times. I liked living in England until the girl who used to be my best friend turned on me. She started drinking and going out to parties and other stuff I didn’t want to get involved in, so when I told her that what she was doing was bad for her and I didn’t want her to get hurt she completely turned on me. She gathered a couple of minions that were desperate for someone to be friends with and got them to follow her every move, they made my life miserable. I had other friends but they already had their special groups and it was hard to get into them. I could tell they didn’t want me around, plus even if they did want me there, nothing could cancel out the fact that I was being traumatized by my ex best friend. About a week after the bullying started I got home and my dad was sitting on the couch with a woman I had never met before. Dad introduced her to me, her name was Lauren. Lauren was his new girlfriend. I almost instantly hated her, she was lovely in front of my dad but behind his back she would be horrible to me and I could tell that she thought I was just a waste of space and a nuance. So eventually I got sick of my life in England and decided I wanted to live with Mum. So here I am now.” “Wow” Bella said. “I’m so sorry about that.” “Thats okay.” I told her. “Also, when I was still a hippie child I had hip length dread locks.” I watched Isabella’s face shift to my shoulder strawberry blonde hair and then crack into a smile.

The train drew to a stop in the paris city center as I finished pressing Bella’s number into my phone as she stood up to get off. “This was surprisingly an enjoyable train ride.” She said to me “Nice meeting you.” “Nice to meet you too.” She waved at me cheerily as she walked towards the door. “Merci du grand voyage” She said in French to the ticket man as she walked out. Something on the seat that Isabella had left just caught my eye. It was a button. I lent down to pick it up, it was quite a beautiful looking button, sort of a coppery colour with a strange kind of pattern on it darting mainly around the edges. Strangely, I couldn’t remember Bella having a button like this on her coat, but maybe I was just imagining things. It was too bad that Bella had left before I could give it back, but anyway it was just a button. Things like lost buttons probably didn’t matter to girls like Isabella, she told me she gets lots of clothes free form her job. I pocketed the button and leaned back in my seat. Only about 20 minuets until I would be with Mum on our way back to the house.

Mum was just as I remembered her from the last time I saw her about a year ago when I went on Holiday to the USA with her. I had emailed and talked to her on the phone since then, but It was nothing like seeing her in person. Her blonde hair still swished loosely and waved down just above her hips. The way she moved was still just like she always had, grace fully as though the ground would slip from underneath her. “Crista!!” Mum yelled giving me a hug when she saw me get off the train. We went back to Mum’s house chatting all the way there, we talked about how the train ride went, how life was in England and the previous times we saw each other. Mum and I got along so easily that It made me wonder why I had gone to England with dad in the first place. “You’ll be starting school tomorrow,” She told me. “I’ve you enrolled in one just a few blocks away. It’ll take you just over half an hour to walk.” Great. I wouldn’t even have time to enjoy France or life with Mum before my life got taken over with school. Also, I needed to brush up on my French. “Please don’t make me go” I begged. “Your going.” She said, her tone final. That was that. Once she made up her mind once and for all there was no way to sway her. I shrunk back in my seat feeling defeated, when I felt something heating in my pocket. I instantly reached for my pocket, the only thing in there was the button I had found. I slipped the button out of my pocket without Mum noticing. It was definitely burning, the pattern around the outside was flaring up completely and the entire thing had brightened. A sudden surge went through the button as it flared up even more. “Maybe you could just start school on monday.” Mum said suddenly. “Okay.” I said in response, too shocked to say anything else. Mum had changed her mind. This was a first, but I couldn't help think it wasn’t her decision.

I woke up in the morning to the smell of bacon. This was a first, my mum is a hopeless cook. I walked down the spiraling stair case to see what was going on, looking at all the paintings as I went. I finally got to the bottom of the stairs to find mum sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine “Qui fait cuire?” I asked her. It means who’s cooking. Mum laughed “Good to see your learning your French.” Mum said, “You didn’t think it was me did you? That’s Stephanie. She’s pretty much our extra pair of hands. She cooks, cleans and does anything else that needs doing. Come meet her.” Mum tuned on her heel and walked towards the kitchen indicating for me to follow her. When we got to the kitchen, there was a girl standing over the stove flipping bacon. She was small but still looked a lot older than me. “Stephanie, ceci est ma fille Crista” Mum said introducing us. Stephanie smiled at me “Nice to meet you Crista. Very sorry my english, is umm... not good.” Mum smiled. “Le Français de Crista n'est pas que bon non plus” Mum told Stephanie. It means Crista’s french isn’t very good. Well I think it does anyway.

After breakfast mum told me we would be going shopping in the city center, maybe even go to the ifel tower and see some of the French culture. “Stephanie can come to, it’ll be great for you and her to get the chance to make friends” Mum said. I couldn’t see this working out, all I could picture is us walking around town, mum talking in french to fast for me to understand with Stephanie and still trying to hold a conversation with me. I just wanted to spend more time with mum before I focused on making friends with our house keeper. “Mum...” I said starting to protest and trying no to sound too mean. I trailed off feeling a burning in my pocket. The button. I had been carrying it around with me since I found it on the train yesterday. I no longer needed to say anything else. “No don’t worry it will probably be too hard with the language barrier between you too. We’ll just go on our own.” Mum said. Why was she changing her mind again? What was this button doing to her?

__Friday 27 May 2011__

Lauren made an attempt to look disappointed that I was leaving - a failed attempt. Dad on the other hand looked as though he was fighting tears. “Come and see us whenever you want.” He told me. This made Lauren’s fake expression become more real. “I will” I said in response. “All passengers London to Paris boarding now, gate 3.” The Voice said over the speaker. Dad stiffened all over. “Bye Dad, Lauren” They waved as I walked to gate three lugging my suitcase with me. I climbed onto the train and found myself a seat. The train turned out to be amazing, the seats fuzzy and a vibrant red, there seemed to be every thing slotted into a train without it even having to be crammed in. “Last call for gate three to Paris” The voice said a few minutes later. After a few people rushed onto the train looking flustered the train began to roll to a start, then stopped again abruptly.The doors opened and again. A girl about my age, maybe older walked in. She didn’t look flustered at all about almost missing the train, in fact I think she looked more relaxed than I did. It was quite cold in the train station so she was wearing a thick furry coat and tight jeans with thick fluffy boots. “Can I sit here?” She asked in a french accent indicating at the seat next to me. “Sure” I told her smiling. She sat down and shrugged off her coat letting her long dark hair out from under the collar and flowing down her shoulders. “I’m Isabella, Bella for short” She told me. “I’m Crista” I said She grinned beautifully showing her pearly white teeth. Everything about Bella seemed perfect, she was gorgeous, someone I would kill to look like and her personality was great to, she had an amazing amount of confidence and was so easy to get along with, I was so glad that of anyone I could end up next to and a long train ride it was Bella. She told me about her life and how she lived in France till she was 13. She lived with adoptive parents that she loved like real ones and got on with fine. The only thing was that she didn’t know about them being adoptive until she was 13. She told me how she hated them for it for about a week and then left to England to find her birth parents. “Basically I didn’t have the instant connection with them that I thought I would. I never got to meet my dad but I assume he was as horrible as my mother was. It turned out that the nicest thing she ever did for me was adopt me out. I kidded myself that I liked her for about a year but then I cracked. There was no way I could stand living with her anymore. I decided to leave England and go back to my adoptive parents in France, but then the day I was leaving I met Gerald. I was walking from my mother’s house to the train station, it was a long walk so I decided to just take the whole day and walk through some of the designer shops on my way. I have expensive taste but had never been able to go into the shops that I wanted to. Now was my chance. In the first shop I went into I bumped into Gerald. Literally. Gerald is the owner of an international model agency. After I had bumped into him he told me he wanted me to work for him and I explained how I had to go back to France before I killed my horrible Mother. Gerald simply just told me no. He said he would not allow any other agencies snatch me up when I went back, So he took me to his agency office. He got me to do a photo shoot and then walk on the runway. He was sold on me, I had to point out to him again that I had nowhere to live in England and he offered to let me live with him. He had lived with models before, ones that he had taken in with situations similar to mine. Living with Gerald was great, the agency was just off to the side of his house so there was always people to talk to. There were a few girls that were my age, but most older. It didn’t matter though we were all good friends. I loved life with Gerald and at the agency so I lived happily with him for two years. Now, here I am, I’m going to visit the french parents. For about a year. I’ve been keeping in touch with them ever since I lived with Gerald. So there you have it, my life story.” I was slightly stunned by what Bella had just told me, but then again it wasn’t surprising that someone beautiful like her was a model. “So what about you?” Bella asked “Tell me about yourself.” “Okay” I said “Well my parents were hippies. We lived in a caravan when I was a baby, and went to festivals, we lived like this until I was four. Mainly we were In Europe, but there were many places in the world we visited. A few weeks after my fourth birthday my parents marriage broke up. Both of my parents settled down and threw away the hippie life, Mum went to France and became an artist. She lived in a beautiful large house with an amazing view of the sea that the sun rises over and on the other side of the house a view of the city and all the nice looking buildings that the sun sets over. She still lives in that house actually, it’s just out of paris, that’s where I’m going now. Anyway, she moved there and Dad moved to england and became an author. I lived with him after the divorce until now. I still kept in touch with my mother but only went back to France a couple of times. I liked living in England until the girl who used to be my best friend turned on me. She started drinking and going out to parties and other stuff I didn’t want to get involved in, so when I told her that what she was doing was bad for her and I didn’t want her to get hurt she completely turned on me. She gathered a couple of minions that were desperate for someone to be friends with and got them to follow her every move, they made my life miserable. I had other friends but they already had their special groups and it was hard to get into them. I could tell they didn’t want me around, plus even if they did want me there, nothing could cancel out the fact that I was being traumatized by my ex best friend. About a week after the bullying started I got home and my dad was sitting on the couch with a woman I had never met before. Dad introduced her to me, her name was Lauren. Lauren was his new girlfriend. I almost instantly hated her, she was lovely in front of my dad but behind his back she would be horrible to me and I could tell that she thought I was just a waste of space and a nuance. So eventually I got sick of my life in England and decided I wanted to live with Mum. So here I am now.” “Wow” Bella said. “I’m so sorry about that.” “Thats okay.” I told her. “Also, when I was still a hippie child I had hip length dread locks.” I watched Isabella’s face shift to my shoulder strawberry blonde hair and then crack into a smile.

The train drew to a stop in the paris city center as I finished pressing Bella’s number into my phone as she stood up to get off. “This was surprisingly an enjoyable train ride.” She said to me “Nice meeting you.” “Nice to meet you too.” She waved at me cheerily as she walked towards the door. “Merci du grand voyage” She said in French to the ticket man as she walked out. Something on the seat that Isabella had left just caught my eye. It was a button. I lent down to pick it up, it was quite a beautiful looking button, sort of a coppery colour with a strange kind of pattern on it darting mainly around the edges. Strangely, I couldn’t remember Bella having a button like this on her coat, but maybe I was just imagining things. It was too bad that Bella had left before I could give it back, but anyway it was just a button. Things like lost buttons probably didn’t matter to girls like Isabella, she told me she gets lots of clothes free form her job. I pocketed the button and leaned back in my seat. Only about 20 minuets until I would be with Mum on our way back to the house.

Mum was just as I remembered her from the last time I saw her about a year ago when I went on Holiday to the USA with her. I had emailed and talked to her on the phone since then, but It was nothing like seeing her in person. Her blonde hair still swished loosely and waved down just above her hips. The way she moved was still just like she always had, grace fully as though the ground would slip from underneath her. “Crista!!” Mum yelled giving me a hug when she saw me get off the train. We went back to Mum’s house chatting all the way there, we talked about how the train ride went, how life was in England and the previous times we saw each other. Mum and I got along so easily that It made me wonder why I had gone to England with dad in the first place. “You’ll be starting school tomorrow,” She told me. “I’ve you enrolled in one just a few blocks away. It’ll take you just over half an hour to walk.” Great. I wouldn’t even have time to enjoy France or life with Mum before my life got taken over with school. Also, I needed to brush up on my French. “Please don’t make me go” I begged. “Your going.” She said, her tone final. That was that. Once she made up her mind once and for all there was no way to sway her. I shrunk back in my seat feeling defeated, when I felt something heating in my pocket. I instantly reached for my pocket, the only thing in there was the button I had found. I slipped the button out of my pocket without Mum noticing. It was definitely burning, the pattern around the outside was flaring up completely and the entire thing had brightened. A sudden surge went through the button as it flared up even more. “Maybe you could just start school on monday.” Mum said suddenly. “Okay.” I said in response, too shocked to say anything else. Mum had changed her mind. This was a first, but I couldn't help think it wasn’t her decision.

I woke up in the morning to the smell of bacon. This was a first, my mum is a hopeless cook. I walked down the spiraling stair case to see what was going on, looking at all the paintings as I went. I finally got to the bottom of the stairs to find mum sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine “Qui fait cuire?” I asked her. It means who’s cooking. Mum laughed “You didn’t think it was me did you? That’s Stephanie. She’s pretty much our extra pair of hands.

__Thursday 26 May 2011__

Lauren made an attempt to look disappointed that I was leaving - a failed attempt. Dad on the other hand looked as though he was fighting tears. “Come and see us whenever you want.” He told me. This made Lauren's fake expression become more real. “I will” I said in response. “All passengers London to Paris boarding now, gate 3.” The Voice said over the speaker. Dad stiffened all over. “Bye Dad, Lauren” They waved as I walked to gate three lugging my suitcase with me. I climbed onto the train and found myself a seat. The train turned out to be amazing, the seats fuzzy and a vibrant red, there seemed to be every thing slotted into a train without it even having to be crammed in. “Last call for gate three to Paris” The voice said. A few minutes later the train began to roll to a start, then stopped again abruptly.The doors opened and again. A girl about my age, maybe older walked in. She didn’t look flustered at all about almost missing the train, in fact I think she looked more relaxed than I did. It was quite cold in the train station so she was wearing a thick furry coat and tight jeans with thick fluffy boots. “Can I sit here?” She asked in a french accent indicating at the seat next to me. “Sure” I told her smiling. She sat down and shrugged off her coat letting her long dark hair out from under the collar and flowing down her shoulders. “I’m Isabella, Bella for short” She told me. “I’m Crista” I said She grinned beautifully showing her pearly white teeth. Everything about Bella seemed perfect, she was gorgeous, someone I would kill to look like and her personality was great to, she had an amazing amount of confidence and was so easy to get along with, I was so glad that of anyone I could end up next to and a long train ride it was Bella. She told me about her life and how she lived in france till she was 13. She lived with adoptive parents that she loved like real ones and got on with fine. The only thing was that she didn’t know about them being adoptive until she was 13. She told me how she hated them for it for about a week and then left to England to find her birth parents. “Basically I didn’t have the instant connection with them that I thought I would. I never got to meet my dad but I assume he was as horrible as my mother was. It turned out that the nicest thing she ever did for me was adopt me out. I kidded myself that I liked her for about a year but then I cracked. There was no way I could stand living with her anymore. I decided to leave England and go back to my adoptive parents in France, but then the day I was leaving I met Gerald. I was walking from my mother’s house to the train station, it was a long walk so I decided to just take the whole day and walk through some of the designer shops on my way. I have expensive taste but had never been able to go into the shops that I wanted to. Now was my chance. In the first shop I went into I bumped into Gerald. Literally. Gerald is the owner of an international model agency. After I had bumped into him he told me he wanted me to work for him and I explained how I had to go back to France before I killed my horrible Mother. Gerald simply just told me no. He said he would not allow any other agencies snatch me up when I went back, So he took me to his agency office. He got me to do a photo shoot and then walk on the runway. He was sold on me, I had to point out to him again that I had nowhere to live in England and he offered to let me live with him. He had lived with models before, ones that he had taken in with situations similar to mine. Living with Gerald was great, the agency was just off to the side of his house so there was always people to talk to. There were a few girls that were my age, but most older. It didn’t matter though we were all good friends. I loved life with Gerald and at the agency so I lived happily with him for two years. Now, here I am, I’m going to visit the french parents. For about a year. I’ve been keeping in touch with them ever since I lived with Gerald. So there you have it, my life story.” I was slightly stunned by what Bella had just told me, but then again it wasn’t surprising that someone beautiful like her was a model. “So what about you?” Bella asked “Tell me about yourself.” “Okay” I said “Well my parents were hippies. We lived in a caravan when I was a baby, and went to festivals, we lived like this until I was four. Mainly we were In Europe, but there were many places in the world we visited. A few weeks after my fourth birthday my parents marriage broke up. Both of my parents settled down and threw away the hippie life, Mum went to France and became an artist. She lived in a beautiful large house with an amazing view of the sea that the sun rises over and on the other side of the house a view of the city and all the nice looking buildings that the sun sets over. She still lives in that house actually, it’s just out of paris, that’s where I’m going now. Anyway, she moved there and Dad moved to england and became an author. I lived with him after the divorce until now. I still kept in touch with my mother but only went back to France a couple of times. I liked living in England until the girl who used to be my best friend turned on me. She started drinking and going out to parties and other stuff I didn’t want to get involved in, so when I told her that what she was doing was bad for her and I didn’t want her to get hurt she completely tuned on me. She gathered a couple of minions that were desperate for someone to be friends with and got them to follow her every move, they made my life miserable. I had other friends but they already had their special groups and it was hard to get into them. I could tell they didn’t want me around, plus even if they did want me there, nothing could cancel out the fact that I was being traumatized by my ex best friend. About a week after the bullying started I got home and my dad was sitting on the couch with a woman I had never met before. Dad introduced her to me, her name was Kirsten. Kirsten was his new girlfriend. I almost instantly hated her, she was lovely in front of my dad but behind his back she would be horrible to me and I could tell that she thought I was just a waste of space and a nuance. So eventually I got sick of my life in England and decided I wanted to live with Mum. So here I am now.” “Wow” Bella said. “I’m so sorry about that.” “Thats okay.” I told her. “Also, when I was still a hippie child I had hip length dread locks.” I watched Isabella’s face shift to my shoulder strawberry blonde hair and then crack into a smile.

The train drew to a stop in the paris city center as I finished pressing Bella’s number into my phone as she stood up to get off. “This was surprisingly an enjoyable train ride.” She said to me “Nice meeting you.” “Nice to meet you too.” She waved at me cheerily as she walked towards the door. “Merci du grand voyage” She said in French to the ticket man as she walked out. Something on the seat that Isabella had left just caught my eye. It was a button. I lent down to pick it up, it was quite a beautiful looking button, sort of a coppery colour with a strange kind of pattern on it darting mainly around the edges. Strangely, I couldn’t remember Bella having a button like this on her coat, but maybe I was just imagining things. It was too bad that Bella had left before I could give it back, but anyway it was just a button. Things like lost buttons probably didn’t matter to girls like Isabella, she told me she gets lots of clothes free form her job. I pocketed the button and leaned back in my seat. Only about 20 minuets until I would be with Mum on our way back to the house.

Mum was just as I remembered her from the last time I saw her about a year ago when I went on Holiday to the USA with her. I had emailed and talked to her on the phone since then, but It was nothing like seeing her in person. Her blonde hair still swished loosely and waved down just above her hips. The way she moved was still just like she always had, grace fully as though the ground would slip from underneath her. “Crista!!” Mum yelled giving me a hug when she saw me get off the train. We went back to Mum’s house chatting all the way there, we talked about how the train ride went, how life was in England and the previous times we saw each other. Mum and I got along so easily that It made me wonder why I had gone to England with dad in the first place. We got to mum’s house a few minutes later. In Mum’s case it was the perfect match between person and house, they were both beautiful and artistic and had a kind warm feel to them. Mum’s paintings were all over the house, decorating the plain walls.

I woke up in the morning to the smell of bacon and waffles. Mum was cooking, something that I thought would never happen. My mum is the worst cook in the universe, usually she burned toast. I walked downstairs to see what was going on just to find her sitting on the couch flipping through magazines. “Who’s cooking?” I asked her. She lowered her magazine half laughing. “You didn’t think it was me did you? It’s Stephanie, our cook, cleaner and pretty much anything we need with an extra pair of hands. Come on, i’ll take you to meet her.” Mum lead me through the winding hallway towards the kitchen, where a girl stood cooking. She was probably a lot older than me but she was short.

__Monday 23 May 2011__

Kirsten made an attempt to look disappointed that I was leaving - a failed attempt. Dad on the other hand looked as though he was fighting tears. “Come and see us whenever you want.” He told me. This made Kirsten’s fake expression become more real. “I will” I said in response. “All passengers London to Paris boarding now, gate 3.” The Voice said over the speaker. Dad stiffened all over. “Bye Dad, Kirsten” They waved as I walked to gate three lugging my suitcase with me. I climbed onto the train and found myself a seat. The train turned out to be amazing, the seats fuzzy and a vibrant red, there seemed to be every thing slotted into a train without it even having to be crammed in. “Last call for gate three to Paris” The voice said. A few minutes later the train began to roll to a start, then stopped again abruptly.The doors opened and again. A girl about my age, maybe older walked in. She didn’t look flustered at all about almost missing the train, in fact I think she looked more relaxed than I did. It was quite cold in the train station so she was wearing a thick furry coat and tight jeans with thick fluffy boots. “Can I sit here?” She asked in a french accent indicating at the seat next to me. “Sure” I told her smiling. She sat down and shrugged off her coat letting her long dark hair out from under the collar and flowing down her shoulders. “I’m Isabella, Bella for short” She told me. “I’m Crista” I said She grinned beautifully showing her pearly white teeth. Everything about Bella seemed perfect, she was gorgeous, someone I would kill to look like and her personality was great to, she had an amazing amount of confidence and was so easy to get along with, I was so glad that of anyone I could end up next to and a long train ride it was Bella. She told me about her life and how she lived in france till she was 13. She lived with adoptive parents that she loved like real ones and got on with fine. The only thing was that she didn’t know about them being adoptive until she was 13. She told me how she hated them for about a week and then left to England to find her birth parents. “I thought I would have and instant connection with them, but it turns out that my mother was a horrible person and the nicest thing she ever did was adopt me out. I never got to meet my dad, mum told me he died in a car crash the year after I was born. So for about a yearI kidded myself that I was happy with my mother, even though she wasn’t half the parent my adoptive ones were. After the year of living with my mother I moved out. I didn’t know where I was going to go so I was planing to just beg my french parents for forgiveness go back, but the morning I had packed my stuff and saved up enough for the train ride, I was planing to skip school and just walk around town for a while, I have always had expensive taste but never been allowed to go into the shops that caught my eye, now was my chance. I had dressed a whole lot older than I was and went in. It was like instant love in the first one I went to, from the people, the layout of the shop and all the products there were. I was in a complete daze walking through the shop and flicking through the racks, that I bumped into a man, who I later found out his name was Gerald. I apologized quickly and was about to continue walking, but he was staring me up and down creepily. ‘You are very beautiful’ He said to me. I thanked him and turned to carry on, but he kept taking to me. ‘I work for a model agency and I want you to come and see me for a photo shoot and job application’ I explained to him how I would be going back to paris this afternoon, basically told him the whole story. ‘No’ He said ‘You cannot go to france for another agency to snatch you up. Come with me, now.’ The whole lecture about stranger danger that every parent gives their kids disappeared out of my mind. I instantly trusted Gerald, so I went with him. He took me to a what looked like a mansion with a small building off to the side ‘This, is my home. The big part is the house, the small part is my studio.’ He took me to the studio. It amazed me. There were people, mainly beautiful young women everywhere. Some were fitting other girls, some sewing, some designing and others grouped together talking or flicking through pictures on some of the giant computes lined up in a tidy row. There were a few men walking round with cameras or designing things too. ‘Take a break now people.’ Gerald said to them. They all put down what they were doing turned to look at him. ‘Look what I found.’ He said gesturing to me. All of the people looked at me some with amazement

__Friday 20 May__

Kirsten made an attempt to look disappointed that I was leaving - a failed attempt. Dad on the other hand looked as though he was fighting tears. “Come and see us whenever you want.” He told me. This made Kirsten’s fake expression become more real. “I will” I said in response. “All passengers London to Paris boarding now, gate 3.” The Voice said over the speaker. Dad stiffened all over. “Bye Dad, Kirsten” They waved as I walked to gate three lugging my suitcase with me. I climbed onto the train and found myself a seat. The train turned out to be amazing, the seats fuzzy and a vibrant red, there seemed to be every thing slotted into a train without it even having to be crammed in. “Last call for gate three to Paris” The voice said. A few minutes later the train began to roll to a start, then stopped again abruptly.The doors opened and again. A girl about my age, maybe older walked in. She didn’t look flustered at all about almost missing the train, in fact I think she looked more relaxed than I did. It was quite cold in the train station so she was wearing a thick furry coat and tight jeans with thick fluffy boots. “Can I sit here?” She asked in a french accent indicating at the seat next to me. “Sure” I told her smiling. She sat down and shrugged off her coat letting her long dark hair out from under the collar and flowing down her shoulders. “I’m Isabella, Bella for short” She told me. “I’m Crista” I said She grinned beautifully showing her pearly white teeth. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Everything about Bella seemed perfect, she was gorgeous, someone I would kill to look like and her personality was great to, she had an amazing amount of confidence and was so easy to get along with, I was so glad that of anyone I could end up next to and a long train ride it was Bella. She told me about her life and how she lived in france till she was 13. She lived with adoptive parents that she loved like real ones and got on with fine. The only thing was that she didn’t know about them being adoptive until she was 13. She told me how she hated them for about a week and then left to England to find her birth parents. “I thought I would have and instant connection with them, but it turns out that my mother was a horrible person and the nicest thing she ever did was adopt me out. I never got to meet my dad, mum told me he died in a car crash the year after I was born. So for about a yearI kidded myself that I was happy with my mother, even though she wasn’t half the parent my adoptive ones were. After the year of living with my mother I moved out. I didn’t know where I was going to go so I was planing to just beg my french parents for forgiveness go back, but the morning I had packed my stuff and saved up enough for the train ride, I was planing to skip school and just walk around town for a while, I have always had expensive taste but never been allowed to go into the shops that caught my eye, now was my chance. I had dressed a whole lot older than I was and went in. It was like instant love in the first one I went to, from the people, the layout of the shop and all the products there were. I was in a complete daze walking through the shop and flicking through the racks, that I bumped into a man, who I later found out his name was Gerald. I apologized quickly and was about to continue walking, but he was staring me up and down creepily. ‘You are very beautiful’ <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">He said to me. I thanked him and turned to carry on, but he kept taking to me. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">‘I work for a model agency and I want you to come and see me for a photo shoot and job application’ <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I explained to him how I would be going back to paris this afternoon, basically told him the whole story. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">‘No’ He said ‘You cannot go to france for another agency to snatch you up. Come with me, now.’ <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The whole lecture about stranger danger that every parent gives their kids disappeared out of my mind. I instantly trusted Gerald

__Thursday 19 May 2011__

<span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Kirsten made an attempt to look disappointed that I was leaving - a failed attempt. Dad on the other hand looked as though he was fighting tears. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">“Come and see us whenever you want.” He told me. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">This made Kirsten’s fake expression become more real. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">“I will” I said in response. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">“All passengers going to Paris boarding now, gate 3.” The Voice said over the speaker. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Dad stiffened all over. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">“Bye Dad, Kirsten” <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">They waved as I walked to gate three lugging my suitcase with me. I climbed onto the train and found myself a seat. The train turned out to be amazing, the seats fuzzy and a vibrant red, there seemed to be every thing slotted into a train without it even having to be crammed in. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">“Last call for gate three to Paris” The voice said. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">A few minutes later the train began to roll to a start, then stopped again abruptly.The doors opened and again. A girl about my age, maybe older walked in. She didn’t look flustered at all about almost missing the train, in fact I think she looked more relaxed than I did. It was quite cold in the train station so she was wearing a thick furry coat and tight jeans with thick fluffy boots. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">“Can I sit here?” She asked in a french accent indicating at the seat next to me. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">“Sure” I told her smiling. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">She sat down and shrugged off her coat letting her long dark hair out from under the collar and flowing down her shoulders. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">“I’m Isabella, Bella for short” She told me. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">“I’m Crista” I said <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">She grinned beautifully showing her pearly white teeth. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Everything about Bella seemed perfect, she was gorgeous, someone I would kill to look like and her personality was great to, she had an amazing amount of confidence and was so easy to get along with, I was so glad that of anyone I could end up next to and a long train ride it was Bella. She told me about her life and how she lived in france till she was 13. She lived with adoptive parents that she loved like real ones and got on with fine. The only thing was that she didn’t know about them being adoptive until she was 13. She told me how she hated them for about a week and then left to England to find her birth parents. “I thought I would have and instant connection with them, but it turns out that my mother was a horrible person and the nicest thing she ever did was adopt me out. I never got to meet my dad, mum told me he died in a car crash the year after I was born. So for about a yearI kidded myself that I was happy with my mother, even though she wasn’t half the parent my adoptive ones were. After the year of living with my mother I moved out. I didn’t know where I was going to go so I was planing to just beg my french parents for forgiveness go back, but the morning I had packed my stuff and saved up enough for the train ride, I was planing to skip school and just walk around town for a while, I have always had expensive taste but never been allowed to go into the shops that caught my eye, now was my chance. I had dressed a whole lot older than I was and went in. It was like instant love in the first one I went to, from the people, the layout of the shop and all the products there were. I was in a complete daze walking through the shop and flicking through the racks, that I bumped into a man, who I later found out his name was Gerald. I apologized quickly

__Wednesday 18 May__

<span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">Kirsten made an attempt to look disappointed that I was leaving - a failed attempt. Dad on the other hand looked as though he was fighting tears. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">“Come and see us whenever you want.” He told me. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">This made Kirsten’s fake expression become more real. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">“I will” I said in response. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">“All passengers going to Paris boarding now, gate 3.” The Voice said over the speaker. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">Dad stiffened all over. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">“Bye Dad, Kirsten” <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">They waved as I walked to gate three lugging my suitcase with me. I climbed onto the train and found myself a seat. The train turned out to be amazing, the seats fuzzy and a vibrant red, there seemed to be every thing slotted into a train without it even having to be crammed in. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">“Last call for gate three to Paris” The voice said. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">A few minutes later the train began to roll to a start, then stopped again abruptly.The doors opened and again. A girl about my age, maybe older walked in. She didn’t look flustered at all about almost missing the train, in fact I think she looked more relaxed than I did. It was quite cold in the train station so she was wearing a thick furry coat and tight jeans with thick fluffy boots. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">“Can I sit here?” She asked in a french accent indicating at the seat next to me. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">“Sure” I told her smiling. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">She sat down and shrugged off her coat letting her long dark hair out from under the collar and flowing down her shoulders. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">“I’m Isabella, Bella for short” She told me. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">“I’m Crista” I said <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">She grinned beautifully showing her pearly white teeth. <span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">Everything about Bella seemed perfect, she was gorgeous, someone I would kill to look like and her personality was great to, she had an amazing amount of confidence and was so easy to get along with, I was so glad that of anyone I could end up next to and a long train ride it was Bella. She told me about her life and how she lived in france till she was 13. She lived with adoptive parents that she loved like real ones and got on with fine. The only thing was that she didn’t know about them being adoptive until she was 13. She told me how she hated them for about a week and then left to England to find her birth parents. “I thought I would have and instant connection with them, but it turns out that my mother was a horrible person and the nicest thing she ever did was adopt me out. I never got to meet my dad, mum told me he died in a car crash the year after I was born. SO for about a yearI kidded myself that I was happy with my mother, even though she wasn’t half the parent my adoptive ones were. After the year of living with my mother I moved out. I didn’t know where I was going to go so I was paning ot just beg my french parents for forgiveness go back, but the morning I had packed my stuff and saved up enough for the train ride

<span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px; margin: 0px;">I really like how you have used descriptive language and how you explain every detail. It is really easy to understand and it looks like it will be a good story. :) (Maddie)