Okay, so this is a story I'm trying out, hope you like it.
Chapter One
"Mum, I'm going out" I shouted as I ran down the stairs, grabbing my jacket from the banister, walking into the kitchen to see my mum sat at the breakfast bar.
"Okay, when will you be back?" she asked, looking up.
"I dont know, 11ish?" I said as I stuffed a tenner into the pocket of my leather jacket.
"Okay, well don't be too late, you've got school in the morning" she replied.
"Sure mum" I spoke as I slammed the door shut and ran down the drive, pulling my jacket on as I went. I untangled my headphones, plugged them into my iPod, hid my iPod in the inside pocket of my Tommy Hilfiger leather jacket, my favourite item of clothing. My parents had bought it for me the previous Christmas and I loved it to bits. It wasn't one of those fake, pathetic, leathers that came just up to your waist, one of those that defeated the entire object of owning a jacket as they provided you with all of no warmth. No, my jacket, was real and beautiful. I was actually grateful for the true English weather this year because although it was still the middle of August, pouring with rain every day and usually I would be hoping and praying for even a glimpse of the sun, it was actually okay because I got to wear my jacket everyday without sweating buckets.
It was the best present my parents had ever gotten me. See, most parents wouldn't buy their daughter a biker jacket, they'd buy a dress a pony or whatever but not mine. No, mine were pretty cool. I guess it's because there're three of us: My brother, sister and me. They've got my brother, Jak, 19, the ideal son; tall, white blonde hair, blue eyes, muscular, popular, average grades, loves sports. Then there's Jennifer, my baby sister, 14, the pretty little girl; white blonde hair, blue eyes, slim, popular, average grades, loves sports and boys. I guess they have everything they need in Jen and Jak that it doesn't matter so much what I do. I don't mind though, I like doing my own thing. It's not like my parents ignore me or anything, they're still there for me it just means there's less pressure, I don't have as many expectations to reach and I can just be who I want to be.
Five minutes later I was switching off my iPod and walking into Richie's, my regular. Richie, the owner, is a cool guy, an old guy but still a cool guy, he moved to town five or so years ago when he inherited the bar from some distant relative, he did it up, made it to suit his tastes. You'd never guess it now, but it used to be a night club; tacky flashing signs outside, DJs and everything. Richie basically ripped everything out and started from scratch, he put everything in dark oak wood; the bar, the floor, the tables, benches and chairs, and put the lighting on really low giving it this mysterious kinda sense, it was really cool. I started coming in when I was fourteen, two years after he reopened the place. Richie isn't one for rules, or laws, he likes to do things his own way, and that way doesn't mind serving alcohol to minors.
As I walked in, I looked over and nodded at Tommy behind the bar before turning right and wandering over to our table. Blake, Ace and Ryder were all sitting on the bench and Rex and Mad were sitting opposite them on stools. I wandered over, pulling up a stool next to Rex.
"Hey guys, what's up?" I said.
Their replys were quickly cut off by Mad. "Thank god you're here, I thought you were gunna ditch me and Blake would make me go on my own.. You should've seen me Brack, I was panicking so bad and I was breathing way too fast, I thought I was gunna faint" Mad breathed out a sigh of relief. This was the reason for her nickname, we're all so different to the typical popular teens who're just interested in clothes, sports and the opposite sex, that to us, they seem weird. Out of all of our crew though, Mad is the most, I guess 'normal' and so, because of her real name, Madeline, we just appreciated the irony. She can get a little annoying, scratch that, a lot annoying but she's Callum's kid sister so we have to endure her constant babble.
