My Fallen Angel (COMPLETE)

MFA chapter 4*

Chapter Four* 

2009 

Music blasted from the neighbors house. It was coming from the upstairs bedroom, the one closest to mine. It was some pop crud, like Justin Whats-His-Face, or something. I don't really know, but it was getting on my nerves. 

I picked up my homework and the book I was supposed to be reading and headed downstairs. I passed the living room, where Andy was making some important calls about the house and his band. I walked through the kitchen and to the back door, sliding it open so I could go out into the backyard. 

I took a seat under a big tree of some sort, where I had set up a lounging chair. Sitting, down, I started my homework again. It was the Thursday of my first week of school and I already had a ton of homework. Right now I was finishing up my fictional story about what would've happened in Romeo and Juliet if they hadn't killed themselves. Yeah, you could tell my English teacher was so creative. 

School wasn't going too well. The students called me freak and emo and cutter, nothing I wasn't used to. But the teachers, even the ones I didn't have, had the audacity to talk about me the same way. I don't actually know, but I'm pretty sure that's illegal. Everyone in the school acted like they had never seen someone who dressed like me before. Why is today's society so filtered and diluted?  

I put my hand to the paper and started writing, using sophisticated and meaningful words that Mrs. Bowser would be happy with. Now, I was constantly trying to prove to my teachers that I was actually giving something to the community and not just sitting there and sucking air. So far, I wasn't doing so hot, even though I was doing far better than the others in my classes. 

School had always come easy to me. I was excellent at English, and I enjoyed it, which was a plus. Math also came easily, and I didn't actually mind sitting through it for a while. Science got a little harder, but I wanted to be a mortician or coroner when I graduated college, like my dad, so I had to take it and pay attention. And then you basically lose me when it comes to history. I mean, I get A's and good marks, but I think it's called history for a reason. It was the past, so let's leave it there. Who cares about all this 'What happens in the past predicts the future' crud?  

By now, the house next door was rattling with the depth of the bass, and it looked like it was about to topple over. I rolled my eyes and tried to get back to work. My train of thought started to slip from my homework to how California's been treating Andy and me. 

While I was being tormented at school, which was nothing new, Andy was having the best luck. He'd already found a guitarist, Chris Hollywood, and was trying to get back to a drummer, Sandra Alva. I'd already met Chris, and he was pretty cool, and he was really good on a guitar. I was just excited to have Andy accept Sandra into the band. He'd never had a female band mate and I was anxious to meet her. I'd seen pictures and she looked to be Salvadorian. She was supposedly a really good drummer. 

I threw my pencil down in frustration. "Seriously?" I shouted out, angry. The stupid music was inching it's way into my brain and invading my every thought. The violent rattling of the bedroom's windows wasn't helping any. 

A head popped up over the dividing wall between our two houses, close to where I was sitting. I gave out a little shout in surprise, moving back in my chair. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," a voice said, coming from the mouth that was attached to the head. I finally took a good look at the head that had scared me. 

It was a guy, probably about my age. He had black, skater-like hair and dark green eyes. The hands that were supporting him on the wall were large, and the left hand had the word 'Skin' written across four knuckles. The guy also had black stud snakebites and I could make out part of a tattoo on his neck. Overall, he was pretty good looking.