First Impressions

"I've got a head full of ideas to change the world,

I'm gonna let them all know who I am

And that I'm here to stay.

I'm in the spotlight now,

So listen to what I have to say."

I strum my guitar strings quickly to keep up with the beat in my head. I am sitting on my bed, once again, and still trying to figure out the exact right tune for my lyrics. I can hear it in my head, but trying to figure out the right fingers physically is much harder. Especially since the music I'm hearing in my head is on an electric guitar and not an acoustic. I growl silently and continuing to find the tune.

I hear a knock on my door and look up to see it slowly creep open. Tash comes into my room, looking all around before his eyes land on me and my guitar. He flashes me a smile before walking over to my bed and sitting beside me, saying hi.

"What's up?" I ask, watching him glance down at my notebook. He picks it up and starts flicking through the pages curiously. I don't object because I don't really mind him looking through it, it's one of the bonds we have.

"Nothing much. I just got off work early and thought I'd come over and hang out." He replies, stopping on one page to read it. "What are these?"

"Lyrics. I'm trying to find the perfect beat for one song right now, but it's so frustrating." I grunt, strumming my guitar again.

"Have you finished all of these other ones?" Tash asks, looking back at me. "I mean, there are a lot and they seem pretty good."

"Thanks, I think. Yeah, the other ones are pretty much completed but I just don't know how they'd actually sound on an electric." I strum again. Tash just continues to look at me, and out of my peripheral vision, I watch a bewildered expression cross his face.

"So, this is what you want to grow up to be? A songwriter?" He dejects. I stare at him, full on, and roll my eyes at the new expression. His eyebrows might as well have been part of his hair. I shake my head.

"No, I want to be a singer. You know, famous and all that jazz." I make jazz hands for effect. "I plan on probably being underrated and mostly unknown, but there will still be people who will listen to me. The way I see it, I could probably change someone for the common good."

I let Tash take this in for a moment, laughing to myself.

"So you're basically trying to change the world without being noticed?" He concludes.

"Exactly."

"You, my dear, are one messed up S.O.B."

I can't help but grin at the compliment. So my plan for the rest of my life isn't really full-proof, but I have no doubt that I can make it. Taking a line from Dr. King- I had a dream…And my dream is to touch one person for the better. To me, Fate is a powerful effect that can be changed by one simple subject in life. Your whole life could be completely different if you didn't have a computer, or if you would have failed English 9, or if you wore a different pair of pants that one day.

To Tash, I tell him all of this.

"You are very insightful, Oh Great One." He says in an old Japanese voice of a Grand Master, bowing slightly. "I just can't believe that you would rather shift the world on it's axis secretly than publicly. Wouldn't you want to get credited for it?"

"No, not really." I shake my head. "I don't like being the center of attention all the time and I don't want the paparazzi on my ass and sniffing through my garbage just for an old sock to sell on E-bay to obsessive fans. Don't you know that just about any celebrity is slammed for something that never even crossed their minds?"

"Yeah, that's true." Tash scratches his chin. "Well, when you do get signed, can I move into a mansion with you? Or do underground singers not get that kind of stuff?"

"I think I could work something out."

"Oh my God. Look at her, she's such a whore."

"I know, and look at what she's wearing."

"Does she honestly think that she can play the goody-two shoes card now?"

I continue listening to the squabble of gossipers in front of me in the lunch line while watching Shelby look around for a place to sit. The break-up with Brad must have really messed her up because she doesn't look like her usual self. Instead of the traditional tube top and mini skirt, she is now wearing a hoodie and over-sized sweats. Her hair is all frizzed out and the bags under her eyes are big and dark. She finally finds an empty table to sit at and starts nibbling on her sandwich.

"She's so revolting it's sad."

"Well so are you but you don't hear me talking about it, do you?" I snap viciously, finally having enough of their squawking banter. The girls look taken aback, too stunned to say anything in retort. "You disgust me."

I walk away from them, leaving them still speechless, and head towards Shelby. I pass my regular lunch table-earning a couple weird looks when I walk right past-and sit beside Shelby slowly. She doesn't look up, she doesn't look disgusted, she doesn't even comment on me. Instead, she just asks me one simple question without facing me.

"What do you want?"

I shrug at the question carelessly, watching her play with the lettuce on her sandwich.

"Nothing really, I just want to talk." I state bluntly, examining my fingernails. She still doesn't move her head.

"Why, so you can go spread rumors about me and gossip endlessly about my pathetic excuse for a life?" She snaps bitterly. I purse my lips out.

"No, not really."

She jerks her head to the side to look at me, a scowl on her face.

"Quit playing nice. I know you don't like me so go ahead and say it: you think I'm a stupid sluty bitch who deserves to die."

I can't help but remain silent, only blinking at her.

"Go ahead, spread rumors. I already know the whole fucking school's against me so why don't you just join the revolution?" She hisses, trying to keep her voice from exploding. I prop my elbow on the table and rest my cheek in my palm, smushing my mouth a little to the side.

"Because I feel like revolting to the opposite side." I murmur. "And I am honestly not the gossiping type because I never really got into the swing of things anyhow, and the worst rumor I have ever spread is that my pubic hair is blue. Do you really think that's believable?"

"So what? Just because you're saying this doesn't mean it's actually true." She bickers. I sigh, removing my face from the palm of my hand.

"Do you want to know something about me? Every time I lie, I tend to scratch the left side of my nose. I don't know why, but I do. It's some sort of weird involuntary movement that I picked up." I state. She just continues to look at me doubtfully. "And from the looks of things, it looks like I'm your only option friend-wise right now. So, want to shake on it?"

I stick my hand out towards her and wait patiently. I can see every emotion flick across her face clearly, debating what she should do. She looks around the entire cafeteria and then back to my hand before taking it in her's.

"Alright, but if you cross me I swear-"

"Yeah, yeah. We're friends now, let's talk." I wave her off, getting up.

"Where are we going?" She asks hesitantly, slowly getting up as well. I can't help but grin at her.

"Where all the emotional break downs happen, all the dirty secrets are spilled, and all the catfights start." I say dramatically, heading towards the exit doors.

"And where would that be?"

"The bathroom of course!" I watch her sigh and shake her head, walking beside me.

"I'm friends with a freak of nature."

I walk into Algebra late, earning a couple glances when I come through the door.

"That's a tardy Ms. Flicka." Mrs. Shanks clicks, writing my lateness down. I shrug and walk back to my seat, sitting down and propping my head in my hand. Brad immediately whips around to confront me.

"Why weren't you at lunch?" He snaps. Wow, he's already irritated and I haven't even said anything yet.

"I was a lunch." I say while moving my finger in a circle on the desk. I hear Mrs. Shanks tell Brad to turn around in the background but he ignores her.

"Let me rephrase that: why did you sit with Shelby and not with us?" He growls. I sigh at the question, obviously not in the mood to be interrogated.

"Because she was alone and how would you like the whole school ridiculing you and being outcasted and not having any friends?" I grunt. "I don't care if she doesn't like me, but we called it truce and now we're somewhat friends."

"Ms. Flicka and Mr. Flitcher!" Mrs. Shanks rumbles in. "What, pray tell, are you discussing that is more important than slopes and intervals?"

"You did what?!" Brad yelps, still ignoring the fuming teacher right behind him. I sigh and rub my head. Everything is happening at once and it's just so hard to take in at the same time. "Why the hell did you go and do such a stupid thing?!"

"Why do you have be such a damn jackass?!" I hiss back.

"That's it! No vulgar language will be used in my classroom! Both of you, to the office!" Mrs. Shanks screeches. Brad just gives me a hard look before I get up and storm out of the room with my books in my arms. I listen to the rhythmical thunk my boots make as I walk down to hallway speedily. It's not long before I head the pounding of sneakers catching up to me.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Brad yells, grabbing me by the arm and spinning me around. I drop my books in the process of turning and glare up at him. It's silent for a little bit before I growl at him lowly.

"You were her safety net, you know." I snarl, yanking my arm out of his grip. "You knew what her life was like and she trusted you. She slept with you because she thought that you would stay because of it. She wanted you to be happy. Then you go and break-up with her-"

"Because she didn't like any of my friends!" Brad cuts in. "She was clingy and needy. She cried every time after we had sex! Do you even know what it's like to have an emotionally unstable relationship?"

"Her mom's a fucking hooker!" I snap. "You could have been the good guy and said no to sex. Have you just ever thought about talking to her rather than making out or is your dick too stupid?"

Brad remains silent, letting me rant and vent at him. I screamed at him so much and even punched him a couple times, surprised that none of the teachers heard me. After my anger is under control, I heave and try to catch my breath.

"You really don't know what it's like, Autum." Brad says lowly. "You don't know what's it's like to think that you're the problem and that you can't do anything to fix it. You think I haven't tried talking to her? She just waves me off and tells me not to worry about it."

"And you fall for that?" I throw my hands up in the air and do some weird move to show a little anger. "Are you stupid? She means the exact opposite!"

"Why are we even talking about this? It doesn't matter because I'm not getting back together with her!" He says. I stomp up and down a couple times before pursing my lips and looking at the lockers beside me, thinking. I hear Brad sigh. "Autum, I know you want to help but you can't fix everything. Things will work out, trust me."

"Promise?" I ask, look back and up at him. It's so hard to just watch someone suffer and I hate doing that. I don't like seeing people hurt. Brad gives me a reassuring grin.

"Promise."