Crashing down around me

"Vana! Where are you, lover?" I screamed, running after my best friend. We were between shows and playing a game of hide and go seek tag. I was it and Vana was the next victim on my hit list. “Over hereeee!” she sang, darting out from behind a bus to stick out her toung and waggle her fingers at me, her thumbs attached to her temples. I ran to get her, turning myself around and trying to catch up. As I rounded a corner, I bumped into something hard and very human like.
“Oops. I’m sorry! Hi, my name is Violet! Want to be friends? What’s your name? What band are you in? Know any famous people?” I said at a speed I had learned from Scarlett and only just mastered, turning to glare at Vana, who had seen the whole thing and was laughing hysterically.
“Shut up.” I mumbled.
I spun back around to see a tall, black haired beauty with vibrant blue eyes and plush, pink lips. Standing next to her was an even taller boy with striking golden hair and eyes the color of fresh celery.
“Ummmm, hi.” The girl looked at me, unsure. “Are you supposed to be back here?” She bent down and her eyes searched my wrists for a bracelet she wouldn’t find.
“Yep.” I told her confidently. “I’m in a band. I just left my bracelet in the bus, right Vana?” I turned to see nothing but air where Vana had been only seconds before.
“Stupid bitch.” I mumbled, “She’s going to win and make us eat Chinese again.” I whined to myself, looking around and trying to spot the bouncy lead guitarist.
“Oh! What band are you in?” the girl asked, a look of false curiosity splashed across her supermodel-esque face.
“Grace Period. But sometimes we’re known as GP. I’m Violet Sanders, also known as Daphne Mathews. I’m on bass and lead vocals. The crazy loser you just saw was Vana Kornovsky, also known as Celeste. She’s our lead singer.”
“That’s a cute story. How did you come up with it so fast?” The girl looked down at me, a snotty look ingrained on her facial features. She turned to the boy next to her, a smirk on her wiry face screaming that he was hers and no one could take him. “Babe?” she asked sweetly, her features taking on a child like innocence, “Call security.” The girl ordered. “Sweetie, next time you try to lie to me, you’re toast.” She looked at my tight skinny jeans and VU ripped tee shirt and snarled. “By the way, Avenged Sevenfold sucks.” She told me, “Don’t listen to that trash.”
All the while she stood there, confident that she was better then me. If only she knew who she was messing with. “Before I get taken away by security, will you tell me who you are?” I asked like it would be the best thing I could hope for, like it was my only wish. And stupidly enough, she answered.
“My name is Kyre Epperly, but most people call me Misery. I’m the drummer of Take Me Away. You should listen to us. We’re much better then the hobos from whom you bought that shirt.”
Okay. Now this girl was dead. I jumped at her as hurried footsteps echoed in the hall.