Anything But Ordinary

12: Every Earthquake Starts With a Little Shake

Patty Walters POV

To say that I had had a rough week would be an understatement. I was bagged and placed in a tub of ice, tied to a pole, and thrown in a lake. It seemed that whoever was playing these bullying games targeted me.

Because of this, I decided to keep my head down. I didn't talk to anyone new, I never spoke up in class, except for when I was called on, and I ate in the library at lunch.

I did talk to one new person, a girl named Dottie. She said that she had seen what was happening to me, and that the same had been afflicted on her the previous year. To me, it seemed like they picked one new student to target. Why me? Why Dottie?

Dottie had said that she eats in the library every day, because even though her tormenting had ceased, she was still afraid of being their target again. I told her that I'd join her. Then, I asked her out, to which she replied yes. Our date was tonight at Jenna McDougall's party.

"Hey Patty," shouted someone from down the hall. I turned back to see who made the noise. It was Ronnie Radke. I sighed audibly.

The next thing I was able to process was a fist colliding with my face.

Brendon Urie's POV

"Well it seems like things are only getting better." I sang lyrics from a song by The Starting Line, maybe because no one was around, but partially because I was lonely. Gabe had left me to go to the stupid party, and I was having a lot of trouble making friends.

Because of that, I was laying on my bed, singing love songs.

"Just keep a hold on me don't let go," I heard another voice join me on the next part. "If you float away, don't you float away," the voice that filled in sounded chipmunky and slightly nasal, but it was cute. It sounded like the room next door, so I decided to engage it in a duet.

"I'm the son of rage and love," I started. The other singer that remained on the night of the party waited the appropriate time before singing the next lyric.

"The Jesus of Suburbia." I laughed, and I heard this boy laugh also. This was fun.

"You start this time," I yelled through the wall. Everyone was at the stupid party, so why would it really matter?

"Say it ain't so, I will not go," he started.

"Turn the lights off, carry me home."

"Keep your head still, I'll be your thrill,"

"The night will go on, my little windmill." I ended the last lyric with an extreme trill and a kind of scream. Needless to say, I had fun. It was quiet for a minute or two, before I heard a knock on my door.

I got up and opened the door, revealing a tall, yet somehow very small boy with brown hair. I had definitely seen him before -- his name was Ryan, and he sat at our table. He was the first person that I'd really noticed here. Ryan was different. He didn't look or act like anyone else here. I'd like to say that there was a lot of diversity in our group, but when it came down to it, I could peg all of us as assholes. All of us except for Ryan.

"I love your voice," he quickly chirped, looking embarrassed. I quickly nodded to get out of my little trance, before speaking.

"I - uh, I love yours too. It's so - uh n-ice." Brendon Boyd Urie does not stutter. In my sixteen and a half years of living, I had only stuttered twice. Once was now, and the other was when I was coming out as bisexual to my parents, who promptly sent me to boarding school because of their writhing rage at that development in my story.

"Would you like to come in?" He bashfully nodded his head, and I stepped out of his way. He entered and I softly closed the door behind me, to not wake anyone in the building who managed to sleep through our singing.

I struck up conversation about blink-182 and Green Day, and we talked about music for what felt like hours.

I learned a lot about Ryan in this time. I learned that his name was actually George Ryan Ross the Third, but that he went by Ryan, I learned that he sang in a band for awhile, and that he played guitar. We talked until we got quiet.

"Hey, Brendon?" he asked. "Do you want to go to that party?" I was taken aback.

"Sure dude, but only if you want to." Ryan nodded, and got up.

Mat Uychich's POV

"Soooo, Matty boy," Brian slurred at me. "How are ya doin this fine evening?" Brian barely managed to get that one sentence out of his mouth before collapsing into a fit of drunken laughter.

"I'm good, Bri. Why were you drinking tonight?" I asked him this every time he was incoherently drunk, mainly because that was the only time he would vent to me. I liked to know what was going on with my best friend.

"Saaaarah. You know Sarahhhh, right Mat?" I nodded, but then muttered a 'yes,' because Brian was drunk and high -- he would not understand head signals. "Sarah broke up with meeeeeee. She said she wanted her ex-boyfriend back. Isn't that bullshit, Matty?"

"Yes, Brian. It's complete and utter bullshit." Brian's drunk face lit up.

"Mat! I found out something new that I could do! I can fucking fly, man! Wanna seeeeeeeee?"

"Brian. You cannot fly." Brian got really weird when he was drunk, but this is the first time he'd ever suggested something as dumb as flying.

"You just watch me, Matty boy." Brian started off running, pushing through the crowds of partying teenagers. I followed him , knowing that without my guidance, he would, in fact, jump off the goddamn roof.

I climbed up the ladder, only seconds after the insanely tall man did, trying to stop him from breaking his entire fucking body.

"Brian!" I shouted. "Stop, dude." I continued running towards him, however, because in my slightly buzzed state, it seemed like a great idea.

I hit the man trying to jump off of the roof with my own body, causing us both to fall. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and grabbed onto the human cushion falling before me.

Annabelle, the cabin on the lake. The lake, in which we were about to be submerged. We hit the water with a large smack. I saw Brian swim up to the surface, and I also tried, but it didn't work, I thrashed around, panicking, gasping for air, but all I took in was water. After about 20 seconds of struggling to survive, two strong hands pulled me to the surface.

I tried to take in a large breath, but ended up sputtering as my face came above the water. The water burned my lungs, and I tried to cough it out. The hands put me down. The one holding me was Brian.

"Don't worry Mat," he whispered. "I know CPR, I know mouth to mouth." Brian pushed on my chest, expelling the water, allowing me to slightly breathe. He still decided to press his lips to mine and force oxygen into my lungs.

The lack of air didn't bother me anymore, all I could think about was the beautiful feeling of Brian Sella's lips on mine.