I hung around in the High Street for a bit, but there were loads of kids from school there, older ones flirting with each other, calling names across the street or pretending to push each other in front of buses. I decided to walk, and headed off without knowing where to go. A bus to Wembley pulled up at the next bus stop, so I bought a ticket from the machine and jumped on just in time. I sat upstairs at the back. When everyone else got off, I did too, then walked some more. Usually I like being out in the streets, especially in the mornings when the shops are opening up and the roads are busy with delivery vans and people going off to jobs and school. I like the feeling of the day starting up, and I like seeing people, wondering where they’re going and what sort of day they’re going to have. This was different, though. I was making myself feel like a runaway, a fugitive, because it suited my mood. It was already getting dark, and it was cold too, and starting to drizzle. I carried on walking, choosing whichever direction I liked the look of.
