The police station is smaller than the ones I’ve been in before. It’s not my first time. But I’ve never done anything really bad and sometimes I’ve just been on the scene.

I was with this girl Jodie when she scraped her key along some teacher’s car. I didn’t even go to Jodie’s school, but watching her made me feel better. I’ve had a few crap teachers and I’ve got excluded just for talking back to them. If Jodie was gonna be chucked out of school, I reckoned at least she’d have done something to make it worth it.

Jodie did get chucked out. Then I ended up in the police station because the school had CCTV of me in the car park. It seemed that Jodie had been busy with her key for a few months. The school wanted to catch the culprit and the one time I was with her, that’s when our pictures got taken. My social worker said I should say sorry to the teacher, but why? All I did was laugh.

The custody officer’s called Elena. It’s weird because her voice is like mine – kinda London with other places in it. She’s white, but I don’t think she was born in the UK. She asks me about an “appropriate adult”. I’m still a kid, so someone’s got to be with me when they ask me questions.

“Is there someone you would like me to call, Charlene?” Elena asks.

I open my mouth to say, “Annie,” and suddenly my stomach feels like it’s swelling up. All my feelings have hidden themselves in there and have got so big they want to explode out. I put my hand over my mouth.

Elena the custody officer steps back. “Are you OK?” she asks.

I let my hand drop away. “It’s all right. I’m not gonna puke all over your police station.”

She says, “If you’re feeling ill, we can arrange for someone to come and see you.”

I shake my head. I can’t tell her that I’m angry at myself.

“So just to be clear,” Elena says. “You don’t need to see a doctor or anything?”

“No. Thank you,” I say.

Elena gives me a small smile. Annie kept saying that a little politeness goes a long way. I bet she didn’t realise that I was listening to her. It definitely works on Elena.

“Do you need anything to eat or drink?” Elena asks.

I shake my head.

“And an appropriate adult …?” Elena asks again.

I shrug.

Elena sighs. “Shall I call social services?”

It’s like I have it stitched into my forehead. This one ain’t got no parents who are gonna come for her.

“There’s my aunty,” I say. “She lives in Ealing.”