1998

You plunge the small knife into it again, breaking the boundaries that seal you from your target. Slowly you drag the blade down the thin line, splitting open your prey and revealing the contents through a slim crack.

What a great first day. You think sarcastically, setting the knife down on the floor beside you and placing your hands on the cardboard box flaps, opening it up to reveal hoards of different CDs. I get to unload the CDs.

You've just moved to Belleville New Jersey from Sea Isle City New Jersey, after your stepfather got reassigned to another paper mill upstate. Two days after moving in on the bad side of town, your stepfather insisted you get a job so, reluctantly, you sprawled out the morning newspaper and skimmed it, looking for something that might catch your interest.

Wally's CD World. You thought after spotting the ad for shop assistant. I could do that.

And that's how you ended up here on a mucky, cold Saturday in the backroom of Wally's CD World, unloading box after box of CDs while the other guy who works with you sits up front and reads magazines, his Doc Martin covered feet propped up on the front counter; he gets to 'man the register', not that anyone comes into the shop anyway. Ray is nice though, he showed you around the shop and asked whether you'd like to unload boxes or take care of the register. Though he looks like the epitome of someone from the 70's with his large, blond afro, wide nose, and shiny brown eyes, he has a mildly funny air about him and a slightly nasal-sounding voice that made you smile while you listened to him tell you about Wally, the owner. You liked him instantly, but told yourself he probably didn't give a shit about you, so don't try being friends.

You really didn't mind your job much though. You knew you'd be bored up at the front register with nothing to do and at least this way you had as little human interaction as possible. You liked your peace and quiet, your solitude. Though you weren't extremely anti-social, moving once every two years, sometimes less, made it hard to make and keep friends. And what with your home and family life, no one really wanted to talk to you anyway.

Your mother, Karen, doesn't have a day job. She lays around the house all day, popping pills that she buys from some guy named Silvio, (and has been ever since you can remember) and getting a high that she never seems to come off of. At night she walks two blocks to the corner-store, a 7/11, and works the night-shift; nine to six. She sleeps or gets high during the day when, thankfully, you aren't around. You're either in the new highschool your parents just enrolled you in, or locked away in your room, staring at the ceiling or jotting down random things in a notebook; you like to write.

Your real father died when you were three after getting stabbed in a bar fight when you lived in Philadelphia, where you first spent your early years. He was a drunk, and was drunk when he died, and you never had much respect for him, not that you were old enough to anyway. From what your mother filled your head with, he wasn't a good father.

When you were eight, your mother remarried. And ironically it was another drunk. Your step-father's name is Steven and he works in a paper mill just outside of Belleville during regular work hours; nine to five. He's the one who bought the small, one-story house in which you now live, with one bathroom and two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a one-car garage, and a small basement. You hate your home, you hate your family, though you know it's all you got, and all you'll ever have. The way your parents are scares you and though they've never harmed you physically, you can't stand them and wish for something more. But they're all you've got.

Well that sucks.
Wonderful.
Well that's isht.
Well my life sucks.

You push a long strand of wavy, auburn hair behind your ear before sighing and beginning to pull the CDs from the large cardboard box in front of you, piled high with CDs for the hip-hop genre.

How can people listen to this? You think irritably, pulling out a CD on top and looking at it in disgust. It says Tupac in big red letters on the top of the CD album and you put it beside you on the floor, preparing to remove the rest of the contents from the box. You can't even understand what they're saying half the time. You're not into rap or anything of the sort. Rock and punk-rock are more your scene, though no one could ever tell by looking at you.

Standing at the height of five foot two, you don't stand out in a crowd. You're extremely skinny, (some people at your old school made it a point to come up with a rumor that you were anorexic that, of course, wasn't true) and not entirely pale, just the ride shade of a natural tan. Your exquisite, green eyes are the only thing you like about yourself and you have no visible tattoos or piercings, except for those in your ears, three holes in each. You have long, wavy, auburn hair that reaches to about the middle of your back that you usually wear down and pushed behind you. Silent, solitary, and sarcastic are three words that describe you pretty much in a nutshell, though you can be cheerful, smiling, and caring when you feel like it. Though most people don't get to know you that well, or long enough. Never done drugs, never smoked, never drank, and don't plan to after what you've had to endure for seventeen years at home. You don't want to turn out like your parents. You've never really had a boyfriend and haven't experienced anything close to it, except in sixth grade when Andy Milkins kissed you against your will; you ran away crying after that. You don't really have anyone to call a friend, though in your last school you got along well with a couple of girls that were like you, but you moved away before anything too meaningful could happen. That's how it always was. Because of Steven and his stupid job.

Suddenly, from the front area of the shop, you hear the bell above the door beep mechanically, signaling someone has entered.

Ray actually has to move. You think with a small smile, tucking a rebellious piece of hair behind your ear as you continue to unload the contents of the box and place them onto the floor, where they'll eventually be placed on a rack and rolled out into the shop.

You can hear loud voices coming from the front room and you restrain yourself from getting up and peeking out of the doorway in curiosity, though you wonder who is there and what they are doing. As you listen a little more closely, your ears pick up the sound of Ray's voice talking with some of the people and come to the conclusion that some of his friends or somebody he knows must've stopped in for a quick chat.

Nice to know someone like him can make friends. You think, almost finished with the box.

"Alex!" You hear Ray call suddenly. "Get out here, I want you to meet some people!"

Sighing and lifting yourself from the dusty floor, you clean your rear of dirt and any other part of your faded jeans that may have picked up some of the filth in the dark and musty backroom. Social interaction. You think, approaching the doorway. Just what I want.

The light from the front room is extremely bright when you first enter and you squint your emerald eyes bit, maneuvering through the rows and rows of CDs to get to the front desk where you can vaguely make out four new figures. Blinking a few times to right your vision, your eyes swiftly scan the racks and shelves of CDs before landing on a group of four of the strangest guys you have ever seen standing in the doorway to Wally's CD World.

Okay...
I wonder who?

Mikey's Point of View

Gerard insisted that you all go and visit Ray, and maybe bring him a bit of the pizza you had leftover from last night, while he's working at Wally's CD World. You didn't want to go out on this rainy Saturday but, of course, no one cared what you thought. You were just a stupid Senior who played the bass in his brother's garage band.

You all, meaning Gerard, Frank, you, and Bob, walk quickly through the pouring rain to Wally's, no one really wanting to get wet but no one having a working car that could be driven in. The CD store isn't that far away, but everyone hated walking in the rain when it's coming down as hard as it is.

"Who's fuckin' idea was this?" grumbles Frank, his arms tightly around his chest and his head hidden beneath the black zip-up hoodie he is currently wearing.

"Gerard's." Bob mumbles, his blond hair covered with tiny water droplets.

"And why do we listen to Gerard?" asks Frank, an irritated tone to his voice.

"'Cause I'm the oldest." Gerard points out, his own head tucked under a black hoodie.

Frank starts to complain some more about the crappy weather but you keep your mouth shut, holding your gaze on the road ahead. Wally's is coming into view, stuffed between two other shops along the sidewalk. This part of Belleville is one of the nicer parts; the shops are cleaner, the sidewalks are less crowded with homeless people, and the shops are small and filled with nice things that people usually like to stop and look at. But then there's Wally's. Drab, musty, and not the brightest shop on the block, that's where you and the guys spend most of your time, if not at the bookstore Barnes and Noble or your house...or someone else's. One of your good friends Ray works there, if you call sitting behind a counter and reading a magazine working, and Gerard loves to go and bother him to see if he can get him fired by Wally, who hardly ever stops by anyway. As the shop comes closer, you notice a car parked out front, a beat-up black Toyota Camry, and come to the conclusion someone must actually be in Wally's and willing to buy something.

Soon enough, Gerard bursts into Wally's and shouts, "Ray!" throwing open his arms with a huge grin on his face.

Ray looks up from his magazine as the door swings slowly closed behind Bob, the last to enter the shop. You four crowd around the front door, rain dripping from your various bodies. "Hey guys." Ray says, setting his magazine down.

"Busy?" asks Bob, shaking his head a bit to free his hair from rainwater.

"Does it look like it?" asks Ray, indicating around the shop.

"So you woke up at eight for no reason?" asks Frank, an eyebrow raised.

Ray nods with a sigh and Gerard coos, "Aw, it's alwight Ray. I bwought you some pizza to make it all betta!" Gerard sets the pizza box he was carrying onto the counter and Ray literally dives at it, opening the lid to find plain cheese pizza.

"Fanks." he says, his mouth already full.

"Aren't there a shitload of boxes you should be unloading or something?" asks Frank. "Wally gets new shipments every Saturday doesn't he?" Frank always got first dibs on the new CDs.

Ray nods, a bit of pizza sauce on his chin. "Yeah. Alex is doin' it."

You look around the shop, pushing some of your light brown hair off of your forehead, but it just plasters itself back into place. Your black jacket didn't really do too well in keeping out the rain, but it was cold and it kept you warm. Rain on your glasses blurs your vision a bit and you bring a cold hand out of your pocket to bring them from your face and wipe the rain from them, not really paying attention to the conversation at hand.

"Alex? Who's Alex?" asks Frank, a sneer on his face.

"Works here with me now. Wanted to take unloading duty and I had no problem with it." says Ray with a shrug.

"So do we get to meet Wally's new slave or what?" asks Gerard, his long, black hair hanging limply about his face.

Ray rolls his eyes, turning to face the backroom. "Alex!" he bellows. "Get out here, I want you to meet some people!"

Ray's loud yell pulls you back out of your unfocused state and you look up towards the backroom, a figure having appeared there. Realizing your vision is bleary because your glasses are still in your hand, you put them back on your face, scrunching your nose a bit as your eyes land on the figure you vaguely know as Alex.

For some reason, you weren't expecting a girl. Especially a girl that looked like that. Your first reaction was your heart speeding up, and then your stomach doing this weird kind of flip-flop as the girl named Alex came closer and closer, her eyes looking everywhere but your group of friends. Her small frame is dressed in tight, faded blue-jeans and a too-small black Misfits t-shirt, her rusty-red hair swaying gently behind her as she moves forward.
That's Alex?

Oh...
Um...uh...
Alex is a girl?!

Your Point of View

You stop in front of the four guys, avoiding all of their gazes as they stare at you with wide eyes.

They obviously thought I was a guy. You think, annoyed. That kind of thing happened often, but you didn't really mind. A lot of people called you Alex and rarely anyone called you by your full, first name, Alexis.

"Guys, this is Alex Cooper; just moved here from Sea Isle City." introduces Ray, a goofy smile on his face. "Alex, this is Gerard, Frank, Mikey, and Bob."

"Hi." you say meekly, waving a bit and lifting your eyes to each boy as Ray points them out.

Gerard is probably the most different of all the boys. He isn't the tallest of the five group of friends, but he certainly looks unlike anyone you have ever seen. He has shoulder length, choppy black hair and sparkling hazel eyes that are more green than anything and stand out against his unnaturally pale skin. He's a bit pudgy, but in an extremely cute sort of way. He stands before you in a zipped up black hoodie and black jeans that cling to his legs because he's wet. He smiles cheerfully at you and you smile back a bit more than you were, blushing as you move your gaze to the next guy.

The guy named Frank. He has black, or really dark brown, hair like Gerard and wears it swiped to one side, covering his left eye. He doesn't look to be much taller than you and has hazel eyes that look a little glazed with tiredness. He has on a pair of faded blue-jeans with a bunch of holes in them, the biggest in the knees, and a faded grey t-shirt that you can see peeking out under a black zip-up hoodie. He's watching you intently, which causes you to blush more and look to the next guy standing in the room with you.

Bob is probably the biggest, not height-wise, of all the guys. He has blond, shaved hair and dull blue eyes, the stubble of an up-and-coming beard on his chin. He wears a pair of black Dickies and a black t-shirt to match. He's also watching you closely, but when he notices you staring at him, he flashes you a quick smile, unlike Frank.

And lastly, you drag your eyes to the one dubbed Mikey. Instantly, your eyes lock with his brown ones and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn with warmth and color. You do catch sight of the black Radiohead t-shirt he is wearing under a puffy, black jacket, the tight, faded blue-jeans, and a pair of black rimmed glasses sliding down his nose.

Silence ensues around the shop and you nervously shift your weight from one foot to the other, wanting nothing more just to sink into the floorboards and disappear from sight.

"So you lived in Sea Isle?" asks Gerard, striking up a conversation.

"Yeah." you answer softly, keeping your green eyes on the floor.

"Did you like it there?" he asks again, wanting to keep you talking; you seem like a nice girl.

"It was nice, yeah."

"Then why did you move here?"

"My step dad's job transferred him here, so we had to pick up and move." you answer.

"Oh." says Gerard, casting a glance at Ray that clearly says, 'She Loves to Talk, Doesn't She?'

"Yeah, well, I should get back..." You trail off, about to turn around and head back to the backroom to finish unloading CDs.

"Why don't you stay out here and have some of the pizza I brought Ray?" asks Gerard suddenly.

"But it's mine!" says Ray, finishing off the slice he first started.

You smile, halfway turned to Gerard. "I wouldn't want to---"

"Ray's just being a bitch. If I say you can have some pizza," Gerard snatches the box off the counter, which holds two more slices of pizza that Ray was just recently reaching for. "Then you can have some." He holds out the box in your direction with a wide grin on his face, which you can't help but smile at.

"You didn't take your lunch break anyway." adds Ray.

You let out a laugh and hold up your hands. "All right all right, I'll have some pizza." You turn back around and step forward, taking the box from Gerard and moving to the glass counter where you put it down and daintily pick out a slice.

"So you go to Jersey Prep School?" asks Frank, his intense, hazel eyes still looking your figure up and down.

"Yeah, I'm a Senior." you say, taking a small bite off the end of the plain pizza to find it stone cold. Still, it's past noon and with no breakfast, you're starving.

"Really? So are Mikey and Bob!" says Gerard, glancing at his brother.

You nod a bit, chewing your pizza and refusing to talk because you don't want to seem rude; your mother may not have taught you manners but you're smart enough to have them.

"Frank here is a Junior and me and Ray are outta school; I just lay around all day while Ray slaves away in here." explains Gerard. You smile, knowing his statement is sarcastic, taking another bite of your pizza. "So you start school on Monday?"

"Yeah." you nod, thinking you should say more. "I'm nervous though. I've always hated going to new schools."

"You move around a lot?" asks Bob.

Again you nod. "Yeah. Ever since my mom remarried we've been moving all over Pennsylvania and New Jersey because of my step dad's job."

"What does he do?" Mikey asks the dreaded, embarrassing question.

"Works at a paper mill." you say softly, avoiding all eyes as you take another bite of pizza.

The room falls silent, the only sound being the pounding rain from outside. You busy yourself with eating, the other piece of pizza laying forgotten in the box, while the guys all exchange different looks.

"So...uh...we have a band!" says Gerard quickly, straining to keep the conversation alive.

You look up, intrigued, and ask:
Really?
You do?
What kinda band?
You do? What kind?
"Yeah, it's kinda pop-punk/emo/post hardcore." says Gerard with a shrug.

Finally. Something that sparks your interest. "Really? Sounds awesome." you say with a smile, causing Gerard to do so too, widely at that.

"We've haven't been playing for that long; I'm the vocals, Mikey's the bass, Bob is drums, and Ray and Frank are guitar."

"You sing?" you ask with a crooked smile, skepticism laced through your words.

Gerard pouts and places a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "Yes."

You let out a soft laugh, ignoring your pizza for the time being. "And I bet you're great."

Gerard smiles again and you take the chance to bite into your pizza, suddenly feeling ravenous. "So I take it you're hungry?" he asks, after watching you finish three quarters of the pizza.

"No breakfast." you say quickly, swallowing what's left in your mouth.

"How can you go without breakfast?" asks Frank. "It's the most important meal of the day!"

You laugh again and finish what food is in your mouth before answering, "I'm not a big breakfast person. I mean if we have Lucky Charms I'll eat 'em but that's about all I like in a breakfast."

"Lucky Charms are my favorite!" says Gerard, clapping.

Finishing off your pizza, you hold back a laugh, getting the feeling that if Gerard and the others stop by more often, you'd love to do register duty from now on. The group is great-- so far. Well Gerard is.

"Well," you say, setting your pizza crust back into the box; you hate the crust. "I better get back to work. Maybe I'll see you all around?" Your eyes fall on one boy after the other, though you're reluctant to look at Mikey. For some reason he makes you uncomfortable.

"Hey, how about I meet you at school on Monday? That way you won't look totally lost on your first day and I can show you to your first class." suggests Bob.

"That would be great." you say, gracing him with a gorgeous smile. "I'll meet you out front on Monday then?"

"I'll be waiting. It was nice meeting you." Bob gives you a small smile in return and just as you open your mouth to say good bye to the other boys, Gerard lunges at you, throwing his arms around your neck.

"I'm going to miss you so much!" he mock sobs into your shoulder as you slowly pat him on the back, his wet hair slightly sticking to the side of your cheek.

"It's not like I'll never see you again Gerard." you say with a smile as he pulls back from you, a look of sadness on his face as he wipes away tears that aren't there.

"I...I know," he falsely stutters. "B...but I feel like I've really connected with you!" His eyes narrow dramatically. "I don't want to leave!"

You can't help but laugh. God this kid is awesome. "Gerard, you've known me for all of five minutes. I think you can manage."

Gerard shakes his head, his hands now gripping your shoulders as the others grin behind him, obviously finding this scene amusing. "Do you work tomorrow?" he asks.

"Every day after school, four to nine, but not Sundays." You tried to get out of the house as much as possible and even offered to work Saturdays nine to four.

"Great! I'll see you after school first thing on Monday my love!" Gerard squeezes you in another tight hug and flashes you a quick wink before spinning and leaving you shaking your head and smiling.

"Bye guys." you say, waving to the others. You try not to let your eyes linger on Mikey, though it is hard when you catch the small smile he gives you before you turn and head for the backroom, disappearing out of sight.

"What a piece of ass." Frank says, his eyes transfixed on the backroom door which is now closed.

"She seems like a really cool girl." comments Bob, speaking as if Frank hadn't.

"I wouldn't mind seeing what she's really like." Frank says with a wicked grin.

Gerard rolls his eyes playfully and says just as playfully, "Shut up Frankie. She's mine."

Mikey makes the slightest movement, but no one notices.

"You can't claim her!" Frank says, exaggerating being scandalized.

"Says who?"

"Me!"

"Well if I can't then you can't either!"

"Says who?!"

"Me!"

"How about neither of you claim her? We don't know if she has a boyfriend or not." Ray interjects, an eyebrow raised.

Both Frank and Gerard stop playful bickering, their mouths poised to speak but instantly close, both glaring at Ray. "Thanks for ruining my day fucktard." Gerard bites.

"What did I do?" asks Ray, clueless.

Gerard merely rolls his eyes, seizing the pizza box once more and snapping it shut. "I'll be taking this back." he says.

Ray glares as Gerard moves to the front door, pizza box in hand. "You comin' by later for practice?" he asks Ray.

"Yeah I'll be there right after work."

Gerard nods. "Later bitch." And with that he disappears.

"See ya Ray." Mikey says, following his brother, Bob and Frank following after saying their own goodbyes.