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CHAPTER FIVE

Rebellion
    W ith my relationship with my parents deteriorating, I decided that, if they were going to treat me like a baby, I might as well behave like one. So that was when I decided to run away. With all my questions and tantrums getting me absolutely nowhere, it seemed like a good way to make a stand to my parents and punish them at the same time.
    One night, after a big fight, I was pacing my room, feeling so angry and like I had nowhere to turn. ‘I have to get out of this house,’ I said to myself. The situation was quite literally driving me crazy.
    It was dark outside and, when I was sure that Mum, Dad and David were all downstairs watching TV, I shoved a change of clothes and some schoolbooks into a carrier bag and climbed out of my bedroom window. Dropping onto the garage roof, I then jumped into the bushes beneath. This was a pretty big deal for me, as the idea of being a tomboy appalled me and I’d have much preferred to use the front door. Incidentally, those bushes were a mess for ages afterwards and my dad moaned for an eternity about the Chanelle-shaped dent I left in them!
    Wanting to cause as much worry as possible, I didn’t bother to leave a note before I left but instead scrawled some horrible comments in the life book they’d made me when I was little. There was a really cute baby photo of me with them, which they’d captioned ‘Chanelle with her new family’. Cruelly, I wrote underneath, ‘Well, you’re not much of a family, are you?’ I wish I hadn’t done that now. It was such a lovely book and I’m still upset I spoiled it like that.
    At the time, I didn’t care about hurting them. I just wanted to be out of the house, so I’d scrabbled together a few pounds in cash and caught a bus to Wakefield train station. I was trying to look as grown up as I could but, in reality, was absolutely petrified. I almost didn’t go through with it and contemplated getting the bus straight back home again. But I had a point to prove and that determination somehow pushed me on.
    Even though it was fairly late in the evening and a good hour and a half away, I’d decided to go to Hull, where a girl I knew called Emma lived. She was a bit older than me but Alison and I had met her on holiday a few times and had a right laugh with her. The train pulled in to the platform and I got on, praying I wouldn’t see anyone I knew and that I wouldn’t get stopped for a ticket. As I didn’t have much money, I hid in the toilets for the entire journey. The stench was totally revolting and churned my stomach but I kept saying over and over to myself, ‘Just a little bit longer. They’ll be so worried by now. Serves them right.’
    When I arrived in Hull at around 11pm, I called Emma from a pay phone. If she hadn’t been in, I had absolutely no back-up plan in mind. But I would probably have slept rough at the station, rather than go home. Fortunately, she picked up the phone after a couple of rings.
    ‘Hi, it’s Chanelle,’ I said sheepishly. ‘I know you’re not expecting me but I’ve come to visit.’
    ‘Are you kidding? You’re mad!’ she said, laughing and not knowing the half of it. ‘It’s late – why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’
    ‘Um, it was a spur of the moment thing. I wanted to surprise you.’
    ‘Well, you’ve done that. OK, wait there and I’ll come and collect you.’
    Emma picked me up on her scooter and, as soon as she saw me, she said, ‘Let me guess. You’ve fallen out with your folks.’
    ‘Yep. Majorly,’ I said and nodded. ‘I hate them.’
    She smiled sympathetically. ‘Right, tell me all about it later. Hop on.’
    I put the helmet on and climbed on behind her and we set off for her mum’s place a few miles away. But within minutes, just after we joined the M62, we were faced with a total disaster.
    ‘Shit! The police!’ Emma said, as a flash of blue lights appeared behind us.
    ‘Shit!’ I echoed, as she pulled over onto the