Joe Wilkinson's life was hard. He had just turned 12 and life wasn't getting easier. His dad worked for a drug dealer and his mum committed suicide when Joe was 2. Because of what he did, Joe's dad spent most of the time in a pub down the road where he did business or buying drugs somewhere 50 miles away. He often left Joe in their cramped house in a dodgy part of London. He attended a rough school a few miles down the road where the older kids regularly beat up the younger ones if you did anything they didn't like.
"Come here" said mark, a massive 16 year old.
"what" replied Joe warily. He was big for his age and pretty strong but could do nothing against the gang of 15 and 16 year olds standing in front of him.
"You got money?"asked John, the leader of the little gang
"I've got a couple quid in my pocket but thats it"
"Search his bag"
"I swear, I haven't got anything else"
"Nice" Mark smiled happily as he pulled out some knew nike trainers from Joe's P.E. bag."They must be worth a bit."
"Now get out my face" said John as he threw the bag at Joe.
As Joe scrambled away, he thought of excuses to tell his dad about why he'd lost his new trainers.
When Joe got home he saw that his dad wasn't at home again so he pulled up the mat beside the door and found the spare key. After a few failed efforts he managed to open the door and he stepped was feeling miserable as usual and walked through to the small lounge to watch the tiny TV in the corner. Joe's dad only just about scraped a living with his drug dealing and their house was small and bare. As he flicked on the TV, Joe started to realise that he hated his life.