Don't Ever Meddle... With Emily's Heart.

I stuffed four fries into my mouth at once; they just tasted to irresistibly good.

“Wo-- ah, slow down girl. You don’t want to pack on the pounds,” Brian said, laughing and leaning over the table with his burger. “Enjoy the goodness.”

“Brian, don’t say that…” hissed Zacky.

I shrugged it off, and continued to eat the fries wildly. I did not care if I got fat or whatever. See, I am not like most girls. Never have been - never will be. I do not care about being fat or looking awful. That is the problem with teenagers today - especially girls. Nobody is perfect; face that before you end up seriously hurting yourself.

I laughed and threw a French fry at Brian and he scowled at me. “Don’t get it in the ‘do, bro!” he stated, all serious, while Zacky and I could not help but splutter with giggles.

Zacky slurped at his drink and Brian ate his McFlurry. Everything seemed so calm. Great, even. That was until a Mr. Sanders walked in, in an awful “disguise”. Immediately kids from nowhere surrounded him, and seemed to engulf him.

“Fuuuuuck,” I muttered, so lady-like of me. “Shouldn’t we help him?”

Brian laughed again. “Fuck no, I’m not getting all messed up in that! Teenagers and Synyster Gates’ hair don’t mix very nicely.”

I really had no idea so many kids liked them. I guess you could say I was new to this experience and seemed out of place.

Matt finally emerged from the crowd of fans and walked less-than-causal to our table. Every other fan left except two girls who stood at the door staring at me. Yes, me. Not Zacky. Not Brian. Not Matt. Me, they were looking right into my eyes, as if they were reading my thoughts or something. I recognized them from somewhere though.

I gazed off in the distance as I tried to remember where I had seen them before. Suddenly, it clicked. “School, I know them from school!” I practically yelled at myself as I hid behind the food tray.

“Know who?” Matt asked in his raspy, yet confused voice.

I sighed, because he really should have known what I was talking about. “Those girls,” I muttered.

“What girls?”

Oh for Johnny Christ’s sake. “Them… over there,” my mumbled voice replied. Here was me trying to avoid being seen outside by anyone in my new school, while I was with my rockstar friends. What a great idea it was coming to McDonald’s, wasn’t it?

I slid under the table and sat cross-legged on the dirty floor. At that moment, I hoped they would just leave. A shoe kicked me in the leg, twice. “What?” I said, half-angry.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Brian laughed. He wedged his head under the table, then looked at the food that was stuck underneath the tabletop and immediately mouthed ‘eww’ to me. I nodded in return before replying to his question.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Riding a horse?”

“Why don’t we just leave?”

“Let me think about that--- Uhm, no. Because they’ll see me.” Here was me thinking that he was the bright one.

“We’re rockstars, remember. We can go out back.”

I crawled out from under the table, wiped the food off my outfit and shook my head at them. “No, no. I’ll go out the proper way.”

I walked over to the girls, keeping their glare on me. “Mind telling me what the fuck you’re looking at?” I asked, more harshly than I had anticipated. They continued to stare at me, without a word leaving their mouth or even a twitch in their body language.

“Do you know them?” the one with the half-black - half-white hair asked.

“Know who, Cruella Deville?” I was showing my attitude now, I guess.

“Avenged Sevenfold, silly!” the other squealed. Her beady brown eyes darted across the room to the guys then back to me.

“What’s it to you?” Clearly, I was attempting to not answer their question.

Cruella stared at me again, and then smiled lightly. “Because--- we love them!”

Do I look like I really care? I thought.

“Oh, me too.” In split seconds, I came up with a plan. A plan to say I was a fan, and met them here instead of telling the truth. I was not having some whack-jobs being my friends just because my dad is in their favorite band.

“Who’s your favorite?” they both asked, in unison, which was plain weird.

My favorite? I did not have a favorite. I liked them all.

I shrugged. “Mine is Johnny!” beady-eyed girl swooned, which was also weird. I did not like where this was going, either. “I’d do things to him, seriously!” she squealed again. I cringed as I did not even want to imagine what these ‘things’ were.

Wow. How do the guys put up with this?