Runaway

Runaway - chapter 1

1.

“Dinner’s ready Calleigh.” said a voice from the doorway.

I looked up from Harry Potter to see who it was. Aimee stood there, smiling eagerly. I returned the smile and put my book down on the side next to the chair I was sitting in. “Thanks, I’ll be right there.” I said, getting up and heading for the window.

I always looked out into the garden and fields behind the house before I went to eat. Aimee left me to it. She was fourteen, one of the older ones but still young in my eyes even if she was only a year younger. She’d only been here a while, moved from a home up in Sheffield. She still had her broad Yorkshire accent, and you sometimes found it hard to understand.

I sighed, misting up the windows. The sun was just setting, casting long shadows over the garden and reflecting in the pool. Yeah, a pool. In a care home. Pretty cool, huh? It’s not all doom and gloom here.

I walk down the hall to the dining room and sit next to Ellie and Niamh. Dinner passes fairly quietly, well for me anyway. Niamh is talking animatedly, blabbering about her boyfriend, Kieran. I nod and smile every now and then to show I’m listening.

Ellie gives me a knowing look; she obviously wants what I want, to be out of here as soon as possible to escape the boy talk.

I help clear the plates when we’re done. Being in a small home kinda feels a bit too cosy for me. Ellie and Niamh head to the living room with the others, to play the Xbox or Wii or something. Video games don’t interest me too much.

I go and grab my book and head to my room, escaping the general hubbub of a Wednesday night. My room is right on at the end of the hall, facing the sun when it sets. It’s the most wanted room, but I had more chance of getting it; Sarah said I deserved it really after 15 years in care.

I can hear music coming from the room nearest to mine. Candice is 16 and wants to move out. She was out looking at bedsits a few weeks ago, but so far, she’s had no luck. I don’t knock or poke my head round the door; she get’s pretty lairy when someone disturbs her.

I push my door lightly; it glides open silently. My floor is a bright golden orange in the setting sun. I place Harry Potter on top of the other six in the set; I’ve read them all at least a million times. They shake precariously, and then fall still. Sometimes they fall off my desk in the night and wake me; I really should invest in a bigger shelf, I think to myself.

I kneel on the floor and reach under my bed. The floor is wooden laminate, so there are a few dust bunnies rolling around with my random junk.

My hands close around what I’m looking for and I pull it out. The dust on the shoebox makes me sneeze violently. I bash into my desk leg and the books wobble and land with a deafening BANG!

“Shit!” I mutter, assessing the damage.

They’re all fine; Prisoner of Azkaban is the only one still balancing on the edge of the desk. I take it off and pile it on the floor with the others before it lands on my head. Nobody comes to see what’s happened. I’m quite a way away from the others up here, and Candice’s music is ear-splittingly loud, so I’m not surprised when nobody comes in.

I sigh and scribble the word ‘SHELVES’ in my notebook on the desk.

I look back to the shoebox again. It’s covered in a thick layer of dust. I brush it off, grimacing as I go, and wipe it down my jeans. Finally I see the Rocket Dog logo come into view. I smile; Niamh bought these shoes for me a couple of years ago. The box used to be bright orange, but now resembles a peach colour now. I kept it as my memory box. I lift the lid.