Galloway had done his homework, even if it meant researching some miserable guttersnipes called One Direction. He'd arranged to meet up with the girl - Carly - at the local park at 4pm. He'd managed to pass himself off as a 13-year-old boy with surprising ease; it was either that or Carly, sweet, innocent, blonde-haired Carly, was a right gullible shit.
Galloway thought he spotted her sat on a bench, playing with her phone. Tight white vest, skinny jeans...oh yes. He prank called her number, just to make sure, then started up his electric wheelchair and moved towards her.