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into bed fully clothed and remember crying myself to sleep.
    Next morning, I feared the worst but, weirdly, it was like nothing had happened. I think Mum and Dad must have decided that creating more drama would not get us anywhere. I was prepared for a full-scale row but, instead, they seemed to want to bury it and carry on as normally as possible.
    But within weeks of that, the tension soon built up again and I decided to go to Bridlington, where we often used to go on our caravan holidays. There was a girl called Jo, who Alison and I had become friendly with the summer before, so like a homeless stray, I turned up on the doorstep with my things and begged to stay. My plan was just as ill-thought out as before though, as her mum insisted on calling my parents and I was carted back home again, embarrassed and furious in equal measure.
    But just like last time, Mum and Dad were happy to brush over what I’d done.
    ‘I hope we can draw a line under this behaviour now,’ Dad said. ‘You need to live by our rules if you want to stay in this house, OK? We can’t have you skipping school either. Your education is too important.’
    I could see that this much was true. And, while I was mortified to have made such a mess of running away again, part of me was relieved to get back to school. I genuinely didn’t like missing my lessons so, after that, I vowed to stop the disappearing acts.

CHAPTER SIX

First Love
    T hings with Mum and Dad went from bad to worse. They still refused to talk to me about my real mum and lashing out at them was the only way I could express myself. I remember, during one enormous row, I tore into them, shouting, ‘Why did you ever bother adopting me? You obviously don’t love me!’
    The tension in the house wasn’t helped when I started seeing this boy from school, called Scott, who was a couple of years older than me. Dad instantly disliked him, as he’d heard on the grapevine that he was a bit of a bad boy, into drugs and hardcore partying.
    ‘What do you see in him?’ he asked me. ‘He’s no good. Trust me, a father knows these things.’
    Nothing is more effective at making you keen on a guy than your dad’s disapproval, so I paid no attention at all. I presumed Dad was just upset because he had correctly guessed that Scott and I were sleeping together. Despite me only being 15, I always felt really mature for my age, so sex just seemed like a natural progression.
    Scott and I had known each other as kids, when he lived next door to Zoe, one of my best friends. Her parents have always been close to mine, so she’s more like family to me than a mate. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known.
    Anyway, the three of us would hang out together and play football against the wall by his house but his family moved away and I forgot all about him. A few years later, they came back to the area and he turned up at our school again. Zoe grabbed me in the playground one lunch time and, giggling, said ‘Bloody hell! Look who it is!’
    She was pointing to this good-looking lad having a kick-about with the boys and said, ‘It’s him! You know, the guy who used to live next door to me.’
    ‘Oh my God!’ I shrieked. ‘He’s fit now!’ And he was. Scott was tall and dark and looked really cool, in that ‘doesn’t give a shit’ way. Eventually, I plucked up the courage to talk to him.
    ‘Oh, yeah, I remember you,’ he said, looking me up and down approvingly. ‘Well, you’ve grown up, haven’t you?’
    We got on well immediately and it wasn’t long until he asked me out, much to my excitement. Scott just seemed so worldly wise and, even in his school uniform, he looked way older than me. Despite only being 15, I felt at least 21 in my head and I wanted nothing more than to be a fully-fledged adult.
    As a result, losing my virginity to him a month or so later didn’t seem like a big deal at all. Sure, it was a bit awkward when we first slept together but when isn’t it? I still