Bonnie Willis
My name is Bonnie Shafton Willis, I am 16 years old and have lived on the same street all my life. My mother Joyce Shafton, born in 1932, gave birth to me from home and apparently said it was the longest 12 hours of her life. She was only 15 when she had to move away from Leeds to live with my father Russell Willis in Sheffield as she fell pregnant with me so young to a man who was 7 years older than her.
She lived with my father and I for three years.
She had spent a long 3 and a half years with my father and when she got tired of him, she left. Surprisingly, they never married and I think my mother got bored of waiting around. My first and only memory of my mother was my father coming home drunk from the pub and then screams and shouts. I don't like to think about it really. My father never talks about her now but what I know of my mother is that she moved away to marry a wealthy man from Birmingham who offered her more than my father ever did. I don't blame her really. I hate my father. I wish I knew my mother as I feel like we would have got along so well.
Now, I live on Belvidere Road in a narrow, terraced house. There's a kitchen, bathroom, small living room and one bedroom. My father and two older brothers sleep in one room and I sleep well, on the sofa in the living-room. I have very little space but I use the bureau in the living-room to store my clothes, lipstick and diary. I take pride in making sure I dress well and my favourite thing to wear is my red patterned a-line dress, my faux fur coat and my favourite booties and headband. Apart from that, I own four other tops, a school skirt, my Sunday best dress and some old jeans I stole from a lad in the P.E. changing rooms. I don't go to school anymore.
Since the age of five, I've pretty much fended for myself. As soon as I could walk, I would leave the house at eight in the morning and not come home until dark. I used to play on the streets with the older girls and boys. I smoked my first cigarette at the age of seven. My favourite game as a young girlie was football, and even though the boys used to take the piss I used to prove them wrong and score goal after goal. I think they were secretly fascinated. I started primary school at the age of eight and dropped out five years later. I hated school. Once I learnt the basic reading and writing and plus and minus, I didn't really see the need for me to be there anymore and so I very rarely turned up (much to the likes of my teachers, as according to them all I did was cause a nuisance anyway!) My school years have caused my knuckles to be permanently scarred from the all the things flung upon them. Mrs. Clark, my art teacher, even threw her boot at my head once. Let's just say I am not the best at drawing portraits; so when I drew Mrs. Clarke with trotters, a snout and a curly tail and hung it up in her classroom she wasn't too pleased. I left soon after that. I had a lot of 'friends' in school, and I like to think that I was popular. However, I never had a true best-friend and often found myself lonely in the overall scheme of things. The person I was the closest to in school was a little black boy called David who was a year younger than me and often tagged along with me at break and lunch-time after I found him in a corner getting kicked by a big group of boys. When I approached them I showed them who was boss around there; and I sent them on their way with a boot to each of their arses. My favourite memory in school was when David and I sneaked into the teacher's staffroom and stole all the teacher's purses. When we were caught, David was sent away to a different school. I dropped out a few months later.
At the age of 8, I met my two older half brothers Sean and Stuart. They have made my life quite miserable ever since they came to live with me and my father in the summer of 1955. It happened that a woman named Bridget Lory had fell pregnant with two twin boys by my father three years before my birth. They came to live with my father when their mother suffered a heart attack. Although my brothers are often busy working long days at the steelworks, whenever they are at home they go out their way to spend every minute of their time annoying or insulting me (to my father's delight). Hate is a strong word, David used to tell me, but by the time I had dropped out of school and spent five years living with them, I hated my brothers. The worst thing Sean and Stuart have ever done to me happened when I was 13. I got home from my last day of school to see that they had ripped open and cut my mother's Sunday best dress, which was the only thing she left for me when she went, just because I took one shilling from the counter to buy some lunch from the shop. (I wasn't to know it was Stuart's money for cigarettes) . When I found out what they had done, I stole both Sean and Stuart's wallets and spent every single penny of their money on cigerattes, booze and sweets from Roland's corner shop. When I got home, arms full of my buys, I was beaten badly by my two brothers and father. I ran away for three days then. On the second day, Roland found me on his doorstep and offered me a place to stay above his corner shop for the night. I can't thank him enough for that, he's a good old guy. I try not to spend too much time at home.
When I dropped out of school at the age of 13, I had some new neighbours. A posh boy, said to come from London, introduced himself as Leighton. He suggested I find myself a job in a factory, as that was what a lot of the young girls did down in London, and so I went to Rowlands corner shop to see if anything had been advertised. On my 14th birthday, I landed myself a job at MM Bell & Sons Ltd. as a cardboard box and packaging manufacturer and I have been working there ever since. They employed lots of people, and although I was one of the youngest, they said I looked very old for my age and seemed quite friendly. Although a little more of my cheekier side comes out day by day, I keep myself to myself at work and get on with the job at hand. I get ever so bored but it gets me out the house and means I can save up to buy my own clothes. Every Friday afternoon, I get paid and finish work two hours earlier so I run down to Wallis before it closes and stare at all the beautiful clothes. Over a couple of months of saving up, I treat myself to something. Even though I work long hours, I am rarely left with money to spare as I have to pay for my own food and rent. I don't plan to work at MM Bell & Sons forever, as I know that when I grow up I am going to be an actress. My brothers and father scoff, roll their eyes and shake their head when I tell them that I am going to be an actress as they think I am doomed to live on this street forever (I know they are wrong.) This street is full of unambitious, sad boring farts. Leighton, who is 19 like my brothers, seems to be the only one with some sense of youth. Roland, bless him, as nice as he is, can hardly lift a leg let alone play hop skip and jump or chase me around the block. I often spend my spare time on the street opposite, as there are a few older kids there I like to hang around with. We often smoke, drink and go on adventures around Sheffield. They all laugh at my jokes and gawp at my rudeness. And I just know a few of the older boys fancy me by the way they look at me. My favourite of the boys is a tall, broad-shouldered handsome 18 year old named Andrew. We have kissed before and I think he will ask me to be his girlfriend soon. Maybe we will marry in a couple of years. He listens to me when I say that I am moving away soon to be an actress and I like that he seems to believe me. Maybe he can come and live with me when I am rich and famous. I can't wait to get away from my brothers, father and this street. However, I will probably miss a few familiar faces and I am sure they will miss me and the fun I bring to the street.
She lived with my father and I for three years.
She had spent a long 3 and a half years with my father and when she got tired of him, she left. Surprisingly, they never married and I think my mother got bored of waiting around. My first and only memory of my mother was my father coming home drunk from the pub and then screams and shouts. I don't like to think about it really. My father never talks about her now but what I know of my mother is that she moved away to marry a wealthy man from Birmingham who offered her more than my father ever did. I don't blame her really. I hate my father. I wish I knew my mother as I feel like we would have got along so well.
Now, I live on Belvidere Road in a narrow, terraced house. There's a kitchen, bathroom, small living room and one bedroom. My father and two older brothers sleep in one room and I sleep well, on the sofa in the living-room. I have very little space but I use the bureau in the living-room to store my clothes, lipstick and diary. I take pride in making sure I dress well and my favourite thing to wear is my red patterned a-line dress, my faux fur coat and my favourite booties and headband. Apart from that, I own four other tops, a school skirt, my Sunday best dress and some old jeans I stole from a lad in the P.E. changing rooms. I don't go to school anymore.
Since the age of five, I've pretty much fended for myself. As soon as I could walk, I would leave the house at eight in the morning and not come home until dark. I used to play on the streets with the older girls and boys. I smoked my first cigarette at the age of seven. My favourite game as a young girlie was football, and even though the boys used to take the piss I used to prove them wrong and score goal after goal. I think they were secretly fascinated. I started primary school at the age of eight and dropped out five years later. I hated school. Once I learnt the basic reading and writing and plus and minus, I didn't really see the need for me to be there anymore and so I very rarely turned up (much to the likes of my teachers, as according to them all I did was cause a nuisance anyway!) My school years have caused my knuckles to be permanently scarred from the all the things flung upon them. Mrs. Clark, my art teacher, even threw her boot at my head once. Let's just say I am not the best at drawing portraits; so when I drew Mrs. Clarke with trotters, a snout and a curly tail and hung it up in her classroom she wasn't too pleased. I left soon after that. I had a lot of 'friends' in school, and I like to think that I was popular. However, I never had a true best-friend and often found myself lonely in the overall scheme of things. The person I was the closest to in school was a little black boy called David who was a year younger than me and often tagged along with me at break and lunch-time after I found him in a corner getting kicked by a big group of boys. When I approached them I showed them who was boss around there; and I sent them on their way with a boot to each of their arses. My favourite memory in school was when David and I sneaked into the teacher's staffroom and stole all the teacher's purses. When we were caught, David was sent away to a different school. I dropped out a few months later.
At the age of 8, I met my two older half brothers Sean and Stuart. They have made my life quite miserable ever since they came to live with me and my father in the summer of 1955. It happened that a woman named Bridget Lory had fell pregnant with two twin boys by my father three years before my birth. They came to live with my father when their mother suffered a heart attack. Although my brothers are often busy working long days at the steelworks, whenever they are at home they go out their way to spend every minute of their time annoying or insulting me (to my father's delight). Hate is a strong word, David used to tell me, but by the time I had dropped out of school and spent five years living with them, I hated my brothers. The worst thing Sean and Stuart have ever done to me happened when I was 13. I got home from my last day of school to see that they had ripped open and cut my mother's Sunday best dress, which was the only thing she left for me when she went, just because I took one shilling from the counter to buy some lunch from the shop. (I wasn't to know it was Stuart's money for cigarettes) . When I found out what they had done, I stole both Sean and Stuart's wallets and spent every single penny of their money on cigerattes, booze and sweets from Roland's corner shop. When I got home, arms full of my buys, I was beaten badly by my two brothers and father. I ran away for three days then. On the second day, Roland found me on his doorstep and offered me a place to stay above his corner shop for the night. I can't thank him enough for that, he's a good old guy. I try not to spend too much time at home.
When I dropped out of school at the age of 13, I had some new neighbours. A posh boy, said to come from London, introduced himself as Leighton. He suggested I find myself a job in a factory, as that was what a lot of the young girls did down in London, and so I went to Rowlands corner shop to see if anything had been advertised. On my 14th birthday, I landed myself a job at MM Bell & Sons Ltd. as a cardboard box and packaging manufacturer and I have been working there ever since. They employed lots of people, and although I was one of the youngest, they said I looked very old for my age and seemed quite friendly. Although a little more of my cheekier side comes out day by day, I keep myself to myself at work and get on with the job at hand. I get ever so bored but it gets me out the house and means I can save up to buy my own clothes. Every Friday afternoon, I get paid and finish work two hours earlier so I run down to Wallis before it closes and stare at all the beautiful clothes. Over a couple of months of saving up, I treat myself to something. Even though I work long hours, I am rarely left with money to spare as I have to pay for my own food and rent. I don't plan to work at MM Bell & Sons forever, as I know that when I grow up I am going to be an actress. My brothers and father scoff, roll their eyes and shake their head when I tell them that I am going to be an actress as they think I am doomed to live on this street forever (I know they are wrong.) This street is full of unambitious, sad boring farts. Leighton, who is 19 like my brothers, seems to be the only one with some sense of youth. Roland, bless him, as nice as he is, can hardly lift a leg let alone play hop skip and jump or chase me around the block. I often spend my spare time on the street opposite, as there are a few older kids there I like to hang around with. We often smoke, drink and go on adventures around Sheffield. They all laugh at my jokes and gawp at my rudeness. And I just know a few of the older boys fancy me by the way they look at me. My favourite of the boys is a tall, broad-shouldered handsome 18 year old named Andrew. We have kissed before and I think he will ask me to be his girlfriend soon. Maybe we will marry in a couple of years. He listens to me when I say that I am moving away soon to be an actress and I like that he seems to believe me. Maybe he can come and live with me when I am rich and famous. I can't wait to get away from my brothers, father and this street. However, I will probably miss a few familiar faces and I am sure they will miss me and the fun I bring to the street.
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