In despair, Gronk put the trench coat back on its hanger and sloped out of the shop. The shattered dream made his head spin. After a long moment of self-contemplation, he noticed Groate had not yet exited the shop. Gronk waited impatiently. He had fantasised about that coat for weeks and the message it would send to everyone who saw him wear it. It could have transformed him to be THE person to hang around with. Popular, stylish and posh. Definitely posh. It was what he craved. Now the dream was over. And all because he never had enough cash. A dark mood was taking hold just as Groate barged into him, hurrying out of the shop. Gronk saw him turn a corner and followed, just as a shop worker ran outside, looking around.

“Wait up,” Gronk called out, “what’s going on?”

Groate frowned and his eyes darted about. “I think he saw me… we’ve got to get out of here.”

The two boys ran over a concrete pedestrian bridge behind the shop and onto a multi-storey car park. Running down some concrete stairs, they hurried past the parked cars and stopped for a moment. Groate peered along the road to see if the coast was clear. All was quiet, so they ran across the road and walked along the back of a sports centre toward a park. Gronk tried to catch his breath and gave Groate a quizzical glance as they hid near some tennis courts.

Copyright © 2022 Callum Stanford.  All rights reserved.

Author: C.Stanford

Writer, blogger, outsider, survivor.

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