Thin Line

“Turn it up!” She cried to me. I looked at her confused and said,

“This is your room. You turn it up, if you want to hear it so badly.” She glared at me and stood up, walking over to her radio. I cringed in anticipation, for there was one reason only why she would turn up the radio during a conversation. Her blue gray eyes became lustrous, and she sat down singing,

“When I was…a young boy…my father…” I glared at her, and put a pillow over my head. It wasn’t that she was a bad singer, it was what she was singing. It was My Chemical Romance. I hate My Chemical Romance. I can’t stand them. The whiny lead singer, the crappy drummer, the dreadful bassist, the two…count them, two awful guitarists. One would ponder if I hate them so much, why I know so much about them. I blame my best friend, Meagan Klusky. The girl can name the backgrounds of all the boys on the band, their favorite food, their least favorite color, and about a bunch of other useless in formation. It seemed like an eternity until the last chord was hit, I peaked out of the pillow.

“Is it over?”

“Yes…” She whispered, her eyes welling with tears. I sighed and looked at her with a blank face,

“Is there a reason you think you have to cry every time you hear one of their songs.” Meagan glared and threw the nearest teddy bear at me. I dodged it and laughed.

“We’ve been over this, Mari.” She started, looking at her extra big picture of MCR, “I cry because I know I will never be able to tell Gerard or Frankie…”

“Or Mikey, or Bob, or Ray….” I interjected; she shot me a death glare. Meagan cleared her throat and continued,

“That I love them so much. Especially Gerard and Frank.” I gagged and shook my head,

“You need serious counseling, girl friend.” She opened her mouth to say something but the radio personal, Scotty T, screamed at us,

“Do you wanna see MCR in concert? Then be the 105th caller and if you can answer this question you get backstage passes. What is Gerard Way deathly afraid off?” Meagan screamed picking up her cell phone immediately. I sighed,

“It’s a million and one chance that you’ll get those tickets. I know you already know the answer.”

“Needles!” She screamed like a banshee, “He’s afraid of needles!” I laughed and looked at window. It was a nice day out, I kinda wanted to spend it out there, but Meagan was afraid she would miss this opportunity. I swear she lets them control her life. She’s on this sight with a bunch of weird kids and all they do is write and talk about MCR. I think she needs to get a life. But when I tell her that she insists that she does.

“Hello!” Screamed a girl on the radio.

“Hello,” Scotty T started, “You are the 105th caller.” Meagan looked at the radio sorrowfully, and hung up her phone. I looked at her indigo eyes and tried to contain my laughter.

“Don’t even say it.” I stood up, and shook my head,

“Why would I say…what you already know?”

My walk home was nice, it always was. It is springtime now, the birds are flying, the sun not to hot, but warm enough to kill the chill of winter. My favorite time of the year. Once I was at my house I saw Scott’s car in the drive way. He must’ve gotten home early. Scott is my step brother. I think he’s pretty cool, he can be a jerk sometimes, but he’s usually there for me when the cards are not in my favor. I stepped through the door and called out,

“Scotty!”

“I’m right here, Mari.” He muttered, lying on the couch. His short black hair was messy, and his eyes were closed.

“Rough day at work?” I asked him, sitting down on a chair close by. He snorted and snapped open his hazel eyes. He sat up and shook his head,

“I hate screaming girls. I can’t stand them.”

“You’re the one that offered up the tickets, plus back stage passages.” Nobody knows my brother is the radio personal Scotty T. I don’t want people to think they can score free tickets. I probably should tell Meagan one of these days…maybe.

“I know, I didn’t even know MCR was that popular. You don’t listen to them.”

“That’s because I hate them. You know that.” Scott closed his eyes and pointed to his bag on the dining room table.

“Well, I didn’t know that. I brought you some left over backstage passes and tickets.” I sighed and walked over to them. They looked foreign and silly to me. Next to them, I saw G.A. bands, screaming happily to be used.

“Megan will love me for this. I’ll tell her right now.” I picked up my purse, whipping out my cell phone. I pressed the talk button twice, it dialed her number. My hand was on my hip, as I sighed hard.

“Hello?” She said, I grinned,

“What’s crappy, stupid, and I have tickets for.” I heard the phone drop, and her scream was still extremely loud, even though the phone was on the floor. After a minute, she regained her composure,

“How did you get tickets? I just looked on Ticketmaster and they said the My Chemical Romance concert was sold out.” She said extremely animated. I eyed my sleeping brother,

“Let’s just say that I’ve got a ticket angel.” I answered her

“Well tell your ticket angel that I love him.”

“I will. See ya later, Meg.”

“Bye, Mari.” I hung up before she could scream more in my ear. I put my cell phone back in my purse and walked up stairs. The hallway was quiet and that’s the way I enjoyed my house. Quiet, but it seemed every time I turned around my mom was having another party, making me play the stupid piano

“Crap!” I muttered, walking down the stairs, “I forgot to tell her about the backstage passes. Oh well, she’ll just have to find out huh?” I grabbed them swiftly, and took the steps by twos. I opened the door to my room and threw my bag down. I put the tickets in a safe place, and picked up a book from my floor. I sat on my bed, leaning back on the head board, starting to read my book.

I was awoken by the loud yell of my step father. Had Scotty not come to warn me? I tore off my hoody, stuffing it underneath my bed. My stripped polo was perfectly prim for a prep. I tore my skinny leg jeans off, putting on a knee length jean skirt. I put on a white headband, and checked myself in the mirror. I smiled at it, but it didn’t smile back at me. I was trying to play preppy, but I was playing it terribly. To bad I can’t even show my real self to my parents. To bad they don’t know. I opened my door and walked down the steps, smiling widely.

“Hey dad.” I called to him. His soft brown eyes looked at me; I walked over to him embracing him a hug.

“Marissa, how was your day?” He asked me, I nodded, and sat down the table. A voice that I was accustomed with using came out naturally,

“Fine, dad. I got an A on my physics paper and a B on my math assignment.”

“Good job honey.” I looked around for Scott to save me. Looks like he bolted before I could get there. My step-father married my mom after my biological dad bolted out of there. I was one at the time. So this guy, Travis McHenry, married my mother and the rest is history. Except he kinda brainwashed my mother into thinking that all people that dress as I do and listen to what I listen to are eventually going to kill themselves. Needless to say, I had to change from Marissa to Prep everyday. And each day was getting harder and harder to deal with it. I stood up and went to walk back upstairs, except my father stopped me dead in my tracks, “Just remember, dear, I love you.” I smiled at my father and had a hard time saying it back,

“Yah, me too.” I mumbled, racing up the stairs. Once reaching my room and closing my door. I put on the radio, and low and behold there was his whiny voice again. I sighed and shook my head. I glared at the radio turning it off quickly. I lied on my bed and sighed hard, because at that moment I knew I couldn’t go to the concert with Meagan. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“You have to!” Meagan said to me, pouting like I child. Her red hair glittered in the sunlight. I sighed and shook my head,

“If I can’t even stand them on the radio, you know that I won’t be able to take them in concert.”

“But my mom told me that I couldn’t go, if you didn’t go.” I kept my growl in and kicked a pebble. I didn’t want to go. Couldn’t she see that I don’t want to go. I looked deep into her navy eyes glittering with hope. I asked her,

“Does this really mean a lot to you? Would you really force your friend to go see a group she can’t stand?” Meagan stood there for a second and nodded widely,

“Of course,” She exclaimed. I walked away from her, heading to my car, “Mari...” She whimpered. I pulled out my car keys and called to her over my shoulder,

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five. Don’t dress like a whore.” She screamed with joy and I heard her footsteps behind me. I steadied myself for the tackle, but like usual we both fell down laughing.

The annoying sound of crazed fans filled my head.

“Stop that,” Mari said excitedly. I looked at her with wide eyes,

“What am I doing?” I asked her angrily. She turned to me and pointed my flared nose.

“You are flaring out your nose; you do that when you are really mad.” Heat flew across my face in embarrassment. I crossed my arms stubbornly and commented,

“Do not.” She rolled her big sapphire eyes at me. Today they were outlined in black, with a little red.

“Yes you do. Don’t even try to lie.” I sighed and watched somebody run past me. The fans were becoming rowdy. I hate it when fans become boisterous.

“Lets get our seats, Meg.”

“Yeah,” She said nervously, “Lets go.” We were walking down the hall when some one was flying to me. I opened my eyes wide, and then put my hands out to stop them. The next thing I knew, I was on my back, looking up at the person. He smiled at me and I glared at him.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass!” I yelled at him, swatting away his hand. He blinked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry. But I…”

“HEY!” Someone called to him, “We don’t have the time!” The man nodded and walked off,

“I’m really sorry, I’ve gotta go.” And he went as fast as he came. Meg looked at me and laughed,

“You just got body slammed!”

“Fuck you!” I screamed at her, standing up. Meagan looked at me with sad eyes. She hates it when I yell at her, but my anger was rising quickly. First of all, I didn’t want to be here. Second of all, I just got slammed by some random dude. Third of all….I just don’t like MCR. We headed to our seats and I remembered the backstage passes. I pulled them out and showed them to the nearest usher.

“Go out these doors, make a left, and then hand them to the man.” She said to me. I took Meagan’s hand and grinned,

“You are going to love me for this.”

“I already love you! Did I thank you for bringing me here?” She inquired as I dragged her down the hall. I nodded, that time would be about the 1000th. We got to the man and showed him our passes; he opened the door leading us down a dark hall.

“First door on your right, ma’m.”

“Thanks!” I called to him, walking to the door. I smirked at her and bowed,

“You first.”

“Where does it lead to?” She asked. I looked at her stupidly,

“The slaughter house. Open the door, dammit.” I put my hand on my forehead. Meagan’s pale hand touched the door knob slowly as if we were in a horror movie. She always had to make everything so damn dramatic. My foot tapped on the floor impatiently. She opened it and stepped inside,

“Hello.” She whispered, and then she screamed running inside. One guy looked at her with wide eyes. I followed her in, putting my hands in my pockets. I sighed looking at the ceiling, “Frankie!” Meagan screamed, latching on to a man with short black hair. His hazel eyes looked at her blinking widely.

“Uh…hello?” He said, really unsure.

“Hi.” I said slowly, “That’s Meagan and we won backstage passes to come see you.” He nodded and smiled,

“Oh.” He looked down at Meagan and tried to push her off a bit, but she wasn’t budging. Not for God himself. I sat down on a couch and looked at the blond boy next to me,

“Hey.” I said to him, the blond dude with the piercing icy blue eyes.

“Hey.” He answered back. I sighed and looked at the ceiling. I heard Meagan scamper across the room and jump on another person. He didn’t yell, but he didn’t oblige either. His hair was black…like everybody else’s in the group.

“Mikey!” She said petting him like a play thing. I snorted and looked around the room. There was the guy with the fro, trying to stay as far away from Meagan as possible. It was pretty funny how the people she adored were afraid of her. I looked around the room and saw the guy who hit me earlier. I stood up and pointed at him,

“You!” I exclaimed pointing at him. He looked at me sheepishly and waved a bit. Meagan stopped her little pet and looked up,

“Gerard?” She questioned, “You know Gerard?” His hair was short and jet black. I glared at him and crossed my arms over my chest,

“You’re the fucking idiot that hit me!” The anger in me blew up at that moment. Not only did I get slammed tonight. I got smashed by a member of My Chemical Romance. Fucking Fantastic.