The bright fluorescent lights shone down on the grubby cell wall, where hundreds of troubled teenagers had once placed their filthy, unwashed hands. The portable bunk-bed screeched at the tiniest of movements. The full moon came down though the bars of the cell window, metres high up the wall, which was covered in games of tic-tac-toe written in left-over carrot and dried-up porridge. The hailstones thudded against the cell roof; it sounded as if a herd of elephants were making their way across it.
âWell that was my story,â said Allie OâDonall, âwhy are you locked up here? You seem like a civilised person.â As impolite as that may have sounded, Allie was actually an incredibly polite, well mannered seventeen year-old; it was just a case of severe bad luck, and a bit of desperation that she was locked away, waiting to be called in for a trial.
âHa! You donât want to know! My life story is depressing all the way, from the beginning to now,â replied Heather Grassie, Allieâs cell-mate for the night. Allie, realising she wasnât going to be told anything about the slightly older, nineteen year-oldâs past, flopped her head down onto her pillow, and began subconsciously braiding her long, blond, flowing locks into miniscule little braids.
The prison guard came in, shouting the odds, and telling the girls to be quiet, or they would be separated. Not like Heather would have minded, she was a caring girl, but not the talkative type.
Allieâs mind drifted off to her cosy, luxurious, light pink-walled bedroom, her wooden cupboard in one corner of her room, her big bouncy bed in the other. She saw her creamy carpet in the middle of the room, lying on a wooden floor. She was sitting at her desk, working on an English assignment, when all of a sudden, her email pinged; this was the start of something new.
âDo you want to be friends? Xoxox! Jasmine Mouthal.â Those words rang in Allieâs ears, every time she thought of the changing point in her life. When someone you practically never talk to emails you, the normal thing to do is either to ignore it, or to reply a simple âno thank you, but thank you anywayâ back. But Allie was desperate for a friend, and as this girl obviously wanted to become friends, she was more than happy to befriend her.
The next day at school, Jasmine came skipping up to Allie, her long, curly hair jumping around on her back, her expensive designer clothes sitting perfectly on her model-like body, her eyes covered in a heavy layer of black eyeliner.
âHayyy! How my favourite bestie doing?â said Jasmine, battering her eyelids towards Allie.
âWow! This is a bit quick,â thought Allie, but she kept quiet. She didnât want to ruin her chances of getting a friend, or as Jasmine said, a âbestieâ.
Allie, not quite sure of what to think of her new friend, muttered some excuse about a maths test to study for, and dashed off to the bathroom to gather her thoughts. As the bell rang, Allie hurried off to maths class, where Jasmine was already sitting, calling Allie over.
âSo.... You done the âomework?â asked Jasmine. âNo, nor me... pointless stuff, eh?â she continued, not giving Allie a chance to answer. âSo, you wanna come round mine tonight, chill ânâ stuff,â
âWell, I actually had somethi...â
âGreat! Shall we say, fiveish?â Jasmine butted in.
Jasmine was obviously the type that got her way the whole time. Allie sure was tired by the end of maths class, but at least she would get to spend her evening in a swank house, considering how much Jasmine had to spend on clothes.
âI was thinking, Iâm pretty sure I like you, so weâre going into town on Saturday, 'kay?â said Jasmine, her mouth full of food, across the table to Allie.
âUmm... okay, Iâll ask at home, but donât get your hopes up, itâs pretty short notice, you know, two days, and I have a lot of work on,â replied Allie, slightly shakily, partly because sheâd just been told that someone was âpretty sure she liked herâ.
Jasmineâs house was not at all like Allie was expecting. It was a small house, possibly a council house, but Allie didnât mention it, she thought it would be a bit rude, and she realised that Jasmine was quite an opinionated girl.
That Saturday in the city centre, Allie and Jasmine were walking around chatting, just like many other teenagers walking around in the busy shops. The Friday had gone slightly better at school. Jasmine had been slightly more normal, which led Allie into thinking that she was just nervous about possibly getting a new friend.
Walking into one of the centreâs many chemists, Allie thought she saw Jasmine slipping a tube of âLâOrealâ mascara into her handbag. Allie didnât mention it though. She was trying to convince herself that it didnât happen; she thought if nothing was said, it didnât have to be true. But walking into the next shop, Allie saw it again, this time with a bright pink polo shirt.
Allie, deciding to bring up the subject, shakily asked, âDid I see you slipping something into your handbag? Iâm not accusing you of anything, of course, I am just wondering.â
ââCourse you did, silly, how else do you expect me to get hold of proper make-up, and branded clothes?â replied Jasmine casually, giving Allie a soft slap on the arm. âItâs fun, really, I love the feeling of adrenaline!â
Allie sighed to herself, wondering what to say next, when all of a sudden, her little flip-up phone drilled into life. It was her mum, asking her to start making her way home. After telling Jasmine she had to go, Allie blew an air kiss, and dashed off in the direction of the bus-stop.
Not much later, Allie felt something firmly grip her shoulder, and felt her heart begin to pound. She turned around, to see Jasmine standing behind her, grinning from ear to ear.
âDid I scare you? Haha! Anyway, before you go, there is something you need to do really quickly first,â said Jasmine, pulling Allie away from the bus stop, and back into the shopping centre.
âYou know how I was telling you about the adrenaline you feel when you steal? Well you NEED to experience it for yourself, before you go!â whispered Jasmine, pulling Allie into the nearest electronics shop. âOver there, an i-Pod, perfect, small, easy to steal.â
Allie sighed. âOkay, Iâll watch you take it, and then I am leaving!â
âNo silly, youâre taking it, not me!â
âBut... I... I donât need an i-Pod...â replied Allie, trembling.
âWimp! Wimp! Wimp!â chanted Jasmine.
Tears filling up in Allieâs eyes, she grabbed the i-Pod, stuffed it into her handbag, and ran out of the shop, to get as far away from Jasmine as possible. But when Allie thought she was safe, she felt the same feeling as she had done earlier, a hand clutching her shoulder.
âGosh, Jasmine! I trusted you, but you went and...â
âExcuse me. Youâre under arrest, for shoplifting. Anything you say or do may be used as evidence against you,â replied a slightly startled policeman, after just being addressed as âJasmineâ.
âAllie OâDonall? Could you please come through, your trial is about to start.â
Anyway, the whole big block was completely accidental, and when i wrote the story it was in paragraphs, so i need to go back and change it. I'll go back and change all the corrections you made too. 
I'll think about it. 
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