I pulled at the blue streaks in my hair and dragged my tounge piercing across the back of my teeth. I always did this when concentrating. The train pulled up by the platform and the doors started to open. In the space of a few seconds, the train station had gone from empty to chatoic with people running around , hugging girlfriends and giving children piggy backs.

I slipped through the crowd carrying a tattered old tote bag containing only my favourite worn out leather jacket, some research and a wad of cash that was slowly diminishing. I walked casually by the ticket counter, looking as if i was heading for the exit. Yeah right. This is my ride out of here.

Just as the alarm whistle rung out and the doors to the train began to close, i turned quickly and jumped through the small opening of the door, just before they closed. I quickly found a compartment near the back of the train so i could be alone.

I pulled out my aforementioned research and rifled through the documents for, what seemed like, the thousandth time. I pulled out the fading photograph that i seemed to be looking at regularly for the past few weeks. We all looked so happy. The picture perfect family. I don't remember that picture being taken. I was only a baby at the time. I'm assuming it was taken before everything fell apart. Before my dad went on a business trip and never came back. Before my mother decided bringing up two children was too hard on her own. Before she left me on the cold steps of the orphanage and took my brother off to start their new life. That's what they told me at least. The carers in the home. I hated every last one of them and how they looked at me with pity, the girl nobody wanted.

Now at the age of 16 I was finally going to find my mother.

Iv'e been organising this plan since the age of 10. Collecting any information I could. It was tough going based on the fact that the only thing i knew about my mother was that her name was Rachel Morgan.

I searched the database that contained the present and previous residents living in the local area. When eventually her name popped up, i scribbled down the address and travelled there by foot. No point wasting non existent money on a taxi. I climbed the tall oak tree located outside of the house and jumped onto the balcony on the second story window. My bobby pin came in useful and i picked the lock of the door and jumped inside. I searched the house top to bottom and found nothing. There was only one more room to search through. The study. My last hope of finding any clues about my past, my family. I searched through drawers and filing cabnits not finding anything. Defeated, i slid to the foor and rested my head in my hands. Thats when i saw it. A photograph, face up under the desk. I crawled over and scooped it up gently,like if i handled it the wrong way it would disappear. It was a picture of a young girl, around 16 years old wearing a uniform of some kind outside a magnificent looking building. I flipped it over and read the untidy scrawl on the back.

Rachel Morgan, Gallagher Academy 1998.

I jumped up and started jumping around the room. I was now one step closer to finding my mother. I now knew what school she went to. That night when i was back at the orphanage i switched on the computer and quickly typed in Gallagher Academy hoping the school still existed and had a website. I scrolled down the page and found a picture of a building exactly the same as the one in the photograph. I quickly clicked on the link to the website, and up popped The Gallagher Academy For Exceptional Young Women. I found out that the school was located in Roseville, Virginia, a long way from the D.C streets i was so used to. I scrolled through the website until one particular statement caught my eye.

"I just love my girls. In this school we want them to do well in life, not just their education", Headmistress Rachel Morgan.

Right beside the statement was a picture. A picture of my mother. She is headmistress of the school i thought to myself. I now know exactly where to find her. It was scary and exciting at the same time.

The train screeched to a stop and the people in the other compartments began to file out of the train. Wow, i must have been day dreaming for quite a while. I collected my scarse belongings and shuffled out of the train, onto the platforms and towards the nearest exit.

I flung open the door and took a deep breath of fresh air. Standing on the pavement looking out at the small town of Roseville, I immediatley knew i was out of place here. Wearing my old faded superman top, tucked into my high wasted denim shorts, black sheer tights and my worn out blue converse with the blue streaks in my hair and my favourite tongue stud, heavy in my mouth. I contrasted with the old vintage buildings and men and women in business suits who took one glance at me and turned their nose up in disgust. Is that how my mother will look at me when she sees me? ,with disgust?

I pushed the thoughts from my mind and forced my feet to walk on. Just keep walking I chanted in my head. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. Ignoring the gawks i got from the dedicated housewives peering out their windows, and the local fotball team training in the park, i eventually arrived at the gates of The Gallagher Academy. I looked up at the building that, within the next few days, could determine my future, solve my past. I should have made some witty remark to myself. Like I usually would. Yet the only thing I could think of was, this is going to be one hell of a day.

A/N Hey, so how did you like this? Should I continue this story? R&R please :)

Thanks!

Scarlett