Hurry up Kaitlin, I yelled as I ran up the steps to the next available train leaving in 1 minute, listening as the recorded messages droned. (All Stations to Witmore leaving in 1 minute) We will be late you know, and you know what that means dont you. I dont care Kaitlin yelled back. I cant run anymore. We hadn’t really ran that far at all. You would think Kaitlan was an old woman. We had been over to the Station shops to get the days supply of mixed lollies in our usual waxed bag (50 cents mind you) bulging in our uniform pocket but well disguised. It was our treat for the long train ride, the following bus ride and the rigmarole attached to being a teenager and attending an all girls school. As I got closer to the train it slowly pulled away from the station , old carriages groaning, clunking, orange with black diesel stains running down the sides and that horrid smell leaving us behind standing, staring at each other. You’re in trouble, we said together. At the same time. Thats what besties do you know. Know exactly what each other is going to say either before they say it or at the same time. Snap. Well we were. In trouble that is. When we caught the next train that arrived at Witmore it would have made us 15 minutes too late for school and us once again we would be being chastised, so we decided that we would just jump off two stations short of Witmore and leg it to school through the rail yards. Maybe that will fix our problem, because one more time down at Sister Ainsly’s office and we would have our parents bought in, for as Sister would say….’a chat’. That includes grounding from our parents, and that ruins our well planned out weekend. No can do. So there we were sitting on the train, mouth full of wine gums and cobblers chewing and chatting and laughing and staring and fidgeting and playing with our hair and being teenagers…….