I tied a ribbon in my hair. I looked in the mirror, it still didn't look right, but as always it would have to do. I've had the same ribbon in my hair every day my whole life, but it looks awful now I tie it myself. It used to look so perfect, so neat when Mummy used to do it for me. Back then I was only small, about six at the most, now I'm fifteen, fast approaching sixteen, and I still can't do my own damn hair properly.
Needless to say the ribbon is old and it's fraying at the ends now. Hilda has made endless offers to get me a new ribbon, or perhaps a hair scrunchie or a set of bobbles like normal teenagers wear, but she doesn't understand that my ribbon has sentimental value. She doesn't understand that I only wear it each and every day because it reminds me of my mum. Hilda will never understand.

I often wonder why on Earth Hilda took me under her wing in the first place, not that she has actual wings or anything, she isn't a bird or a faerie, it's just a figure of speech, but let's face it, she can't exactly make me into her own daughter now can she? I'll always be Mummy's daughter. I remember when Mummy first started to get sick. It was always just me and her on our own, there was no-one else there to help her look after me, so even though she was getting worse by the day she still made me my meals and helped me get dressed and did my hair for me. I didn't notice anything was wrong back then, looking back now I kick myself for it. Maybe if I had noticed quicker then... Well maybe I could have done something.
I don't even know what she had to be honest. I have a few ideas of what it could have been, but it doesn't matter now, there's nothing I can do. I can't save her now. Mummy got sicker and sicker, until one day I woke up, as I did every other day, to find her sleeping peacefully, her arms wrapped around me as they were the night before. But her grasp wasn't as tight as it usually was so I instantly knew something was wrong. I wriggled out from her arms and then called her. She didn't answer. I called her again, louder this time, but she still didn't answer. I called her again and again, but she never answered any of them, not one of the calls.

She was dead.

Like I said, I was only about six at the time, there was no way I could have known, no way I could have understood. I was placed in a foster home after that, then I was placed in another foster home and another. I didn't have much luck with these foster homes so I got placed into a children's care home, but about two years ago Hilda took me on. I never understood why she choose me when she could have had one of the cute little ones, one of the angelic young children who she could have adopted properly, who could have called her 'Mummy' as I did with my mum, but instead she chose me, the teenage girl with emotional problems and a dodgy past.... Still, I'm not complaining, I just wonder why she choose me, but we get on alright, Hilda and me. When I first came to live with her my room was a completely blank canvas. She said I could do whatever I wanted to it, within reason of course. Every Friday night we'll sit on the couch together and watch a DVD. I like Hilda, I like her a lot, but she isn't Mummy.

She's calling me now, shouting that I'm going to be late for school if I don't hurry up. I give myself one last good staring at in the mirror. I wish I looked like Mummy. Even just a little bit like her, even if I just had the same shaped eyes as she did or the same colour hair, even if I just had the same beauty spot that she had on her right cheek. Anything, anything at all, just one little part of me to remind me of my mum every time I see myself in the mirror. It would remind me to stay strong just like her. It would remind me that I have her blood in my veins and that I can be fearless and courageous like her too.
Hilda calls me again. I quickly pick my schoolbag up from the floor.
I walk downstairs and into the kitchen.
Hilda sees my morbid expression. "You okay?" She asks.
"Um." I reply, not really giving an answer. I poured myself a glass of juice, took a few sips and then headed out of the back door.
She called my name but I'm gone before she can say anything more.

I don't bother going to school now. I just bunk off. School sucks. When I first moved in with Hilda I had to get settled in my new home and adjust to all the changes but I had to go to school sooner or later. I toughed it out for a good while but just recently I've decided that I can't take much more so I just don't go. I usually go to the park. I walk past all the swings and slides and stuff where all the other kids who bunk off hang about all day and keep going until I get the garden area. Nobody really goes there so it's a nice quiet place for me to draw and read. I like all the different colours, a rainbow made out of flowers. I like the peace and quiet. I like being in complete solitude.
But today I wasn't alone at the park. I walked over to the bench where I usually sit and there was a boy, about my age, maybe a little older, sitting in my space. His deep brown hair was flopping into his face, getting in the way of whatever he was writing in his notebook, he looked a bit like one of those goth kids, only he didn't dress like one or style his hair like one either, I guess it was just a sort of aura I got from him.

I wasn't very happy, it may seem a trivial thing to be wound up by to you, but to me it was a pretty big deal.
"Oi!" I said, pretending to be all tough.
He looked up. I saw the way his bright blue – a proper, stunning blue, as if he had sapphires where his eyes were supposed to be - eyes sparkled. "Yeah?" He asked.
I chickened out as per usual. "Nothing, I'm just er... Just yankin' your chain mate." I giggled uneasily, pretending like I knew how to communicate with other teenagers.
"Do you want to sit here?" He asked, as if reading my mind.
"Nah, you're okay mate." I laughed again.
"Okay." He replied, shaking his head. It looked a bit like he was laughing, but I decided to let it drop. He turned back down to his notebook.
I stood around uneasily for a moment, unsure what to do.
"You bunking off from school?" I asked.
The boy looked up at me. "You?"
"Maybe." I smiled.
He laughed, his oh-so very blue eyes sparkled knowingly.
"School is over-rated." He said. "Everyone says that we need to go to school to learn things and become better people, but the teachers only teach shitty stuff you'll never use anyway."
"Umm." I mumbled in agreement, not really sure how to respond.
"Teachers don't help everyone in the way that they should, they don't encourage you in the areas that you're good at. It's probably to do with the over-crowding in schools." He continued. "And all the other kids get in the way, I don't know how I'm expected to learn anything with all of them lot kicking up a fuss."

I understood what he meant. The other students in my school weren't going to win any 'Best Classmate' awards soon either, and concentrating is hard enough when the lessons are boring, but they all decide to play up something wicked. I nodded, to show him I understood, though whether or not he understood the meaning of the nod I don't know.
"So why are you doing a bunk? Is this your first time?" He asked, laughing again.
"Absolutely not!" I responded, feeling slightly insulted. "I bunk off pretty much every day, there's no point going to school. All the girls are bitchy and all the boys are annoying, disgusting, arrogant little gits and the teachers are all stuck so far up their own backsides that they can chew their food twice."
The boy laughed again. "Yup, that's my school to a T! So... What's your name?"
I frowned at him. He was the one sitting in my seat, surely he should tell me his name first. He saw my face.
"I'm Brydan." Said Brydan.
"Oh." I replied. "Nice to meet you Brydan, I'm Janelle."
"Nice to meet you Janelle, I'm Brydan."
I giggled.
"That's what I hate about pleasantries, they could go on all day."
"Yeah, me too." I responded in agreement.
Then Brydan stood up.
"Where are you going...?"
"Never you mind." He replied, tapping his nose with his finger before gathering up his things. Once he'd got all of his belongings safely into his schoolbag he began to walk away. I stared after him, he was by far the most mysterious person I had ever met, he was suddenly there, in my life and now he was suddenly going, leaving it.

"Oh, Janelle!" He called to me, looking over his shoulder. "I won't tell if you won't?"
I nodded and he grinned. He grinned. He had dimples!
I sat down on the bench where he had sat. I was slightly grossed out that it was still warm from his bum being parked on it but at the same time I felt sort of tingly. It was nice to meet a boy who wasn't like the ones in my school or the ones I had to live with when I used to be in care. I slung my bag off of my shoulder and got my own notebook out, along with all my pens and pencils. I found myself a blank page and started sketching. I thought I'd try drawing Brydan from memory. After a few minutes of sketching a voice startled me.

"Oi!"
My heart leaped in my chest. What if it was a policeman wondering why I wasn't in school?! I looked up very slowly, worried about who I'd find looming over me, but it was only Brydan.
"Oi, you want some chips?" He asked, grinning, showing off his gorgeous dimples once more. I grinned back, this Brydan was the strangest boy I'd ever met in my life, but also the nicest.
"Okay." I replied nervously, I moved over on the bench so he could sit down too and we just sat there, sharing a bag of chips.
"I usually get chips round lunchtime, but I skipped breakfast so I decided to sod waiting." He explained, talking with his mouth full.
"Me too. Hilda'll probably think I've gone anorexic." I talked with my mouth full too.
"Hilda?"
"Oh, yeah..." I swallowed with difficulty, the chips turning into dry lumps in my mouth. "She's er... She's my foster mother."
"Oh right. Tough break." He replied, and he said no more about it.
I was rather surprised, because usually people ask me endless questions once they know I've got a foster mother.
'Do you know your real mum? Did she leave you? Didn't she love you? Is she dead?'
'Have you been in care? Is it proper rough? Did you get sexually assaulted?'
It was easier when I was younger because everyone would be like 'Wow, you're in care!? Like Tracy Beaker!?' and then I could easily change the topic to telly programmes (because most of the girls in my class back then weren't even remotely aware that it was a book and I'd have only confused them if I asked whether or not they had read any of Jacqueline Wilson's other works).
But then again, pretty much everything about Brydan so far surprised me.

"So then... Janelle..." Brydan began, putting more chips into his mouth.
I looked at him intently, putting more chips in my mouth too.
"How long have you being bunking off school?" He asked with his mouth full of chips.
"A while." I replied plainly, swallowing my own mouthful of chips.
Brydan raised his eyebrows at me.
"About a month now maybe..." I sighed.
"Same here." Brydan replied. "Though maybe a little less, more like three weeks for me."
"I've never seen you here before." I said, munching on another chip.
"I've seen you." Brydan confessed.
I coughed, choking a little on my chip in surprise. Brydan laughed and slapped me on the back.
"Thanks." I spluttered, after coughing a little. I cleared my throat as I turned to face him. "What do you mean you've 'seen me'?"
"Well, I usually hang around there." Brydan replied, pointing.
"But that's a tree." I said frowning. "You don't climb up it do you?"
"God no!" Brydan laughed. "I don't have a death wish!! Nah, I sit behind> it, it's a good hiding place, and it's quiet. A good place to read and write and stuff."
"Oh..." I sighed. I was a bit disappointed that my private garden wasn't private after all, but at the same time, it felt kinda nice that me and Brydan shared a special secret place.
"Don't worry! I don't sit watching you or anything, I mean, not in a stalker-ish way." Brydan seemed suddenly nervous. I couldn't help but giggle at his sudden change of character.
"Don't worry about it." I said, smiling at him.

"I have watched you a little bit. Occasionally. But not often, and when I do it's only because you're so...." Brydan quickly stopped himself.
"I'm so what?" I asked him, I frowned a little at him.
Brydan blushed. "Pretty. You're so..... pretty."
I stared at him, I could tell by his tone that he was being sincere and not taking the mick. I smiled.
"Thanks, but really I'm not."
"You are." Brydan insisted. "You're even prettier close-up, you've got the most amazing brown eyes I've ever seen, like chocolate.... And you're hair is long, thick and it's dark red. I like red-hair on a girl." He smiled coyly, those beautiful dimples showing. "And you've got the cutest freckles, and pale skin and you're tall and..."
"Okay!!" I cried. "Stop!!"
"But I'm not done describing your beauty." Brydan replied in mock-sadness.
I got another chip out of the bag and threw it at him.
"Oi!" He cried. "Costs 60p a portion that!"
"60p?!" I exclaimed. "For a bag of chips?"
"Welcome to the world of bankrupt Brittan." Brydan poked his tongue out at me cheekily. I stuck my tongue out at him back and then we both laughed.

"I've been wanting to talk to you for a long time Janelle." Brydan admitted, blushing a little as he made his confession. "I just had to know who you were, know your name."
"Well I'm very glad you got to talk to me today Brydan." I replied smiling.
"Yeah. Me too." Said Brydan.
There was a short pause.
"Do you think we could be friends?" Brydan asked.
"I'm no expert," I responded. "But I think we already are friends." I grinned at him. "I've never had a proper friend before. It's nice. You're nice."
Brydan blushed again.
"He got another chip from the bag. "To friendship." He said, holding the chip in the air.
I stared at him like he was a loon, which perhaps he was.
"I'm making a toast, but I don't have a champagne glass." He laughed.
"Oh." I said, giggling. I quickly got a chip out of the bag too and held it up in the air with Brydan's. "To friendship." I repeated as we bashed our chips together.