A/N: This story consists of a younger version of Marty. At this point, he's not liked in school at all and is constantly picked on. He's not as tough as he was in the movies, but as the story progresses he gets tougher as other things begin to happen. R&R! And no flames please! Thanks!

Chapter One

1982

Marty McFly, aged fourteen, was your typical all American teenager. Shoulder length brown hair, deep sea blue eyes, and with some baby fat still attached to him. He had many interests-Nikes, girls, but most of all, he was also addicted to rock and roll.

Marty slept in his usual position-face down in the pillow with the mouth slightly open, with his butt in the air-as his clock radio went off. The young teen stirred and then his eyes slowly opened. He sat up and rubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the leftover drool. His mouth opened slowly, a yawn escaping it and then the young freshman hopped off his bed and went to his closet. He grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, along with his Nikes, and got dressed. He walked out of his room and into the kitchen. There, he saw his father, George, working on some last minute work, his brother Dave wolfing down his breakfast, and Linda, his sister, picking at her food. Lorraine, his mother, was probably still in the bedroom, passed out from her drunken one man party from the night before. The fourteen year old plopped down in his seat and messed with a spoon. Dave looked at him and said something but it was incomprehensible since his mouth was practically filled to the brim. Marty furrowed his eyebrows.

"What?" he asked.

"I said..." Dave swallowed his food. "Are you gonna eat your toast?"

Linda grimaced. "Really, Dave?"

"What? I'm just asking."

"Gross pig."

"I am not."

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

Marty sighed and looked at George, who was tuning the argument out. The young brunette stood, grabbed his school books, walked to the door, and left. He didn't bother to say goodbye to his parents or siblings. After all, it would do no good. No one would hear. And if he woke his mother, there would be hell to pay. So with that, the young boy left the driveway and walked towards the high school. He hated it there. He was lonely. Linda ignored him, Dave was a damn drop-out, and then people would mock him, which added insult to injury.

Marty hated it. The only exciting thing was his P.E. class and that was only because he had a hot P.E. teacher. And even she didn't notice him. She didn't talk to him. Hell, she couldn't even get his name right.

Sighing, the fourteen year old made his way past the homes of kids and teenagers running out and laughing, enjoying themselves. He rolled his eyes and kept walking. Suddenly, a loud boom was heard from a nearby home. Marty, jumping out of his skin, looked for the source of the noise and stared when he found it. An older man-about sixty to sixty-five with crazy hair and soot all over him leaned out of a window. Goggles rested on his forehead, those black as well, and the man looked on the ground for something. He looked down, found out, reached down, and, with his body more than halfway out the window, he grabbed the object and went back in through the window as quickly as he had come out of it. With that, the young McFly started towards school again. He saw teenagers in packs as he neared it. Some kids smirked at him, one pushed him down, and others just snickered. Marty didn't even fight back, even though there was taunting going on all around him. He put a hand to his nose, saw that there was no blood, and then stood. He gathered his things and walked inside. A girl, who was watching on the side, pushed herself through the upperclassmen and over to the young teen.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked, concerned. She had light brown hair cut in an equal level bob, nice hazel eyes and a beautiful complexion. She wore a long sleeved pink blouse, a skirt, and converse, and had a jacket tossed over her arm.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Marty groaned. He wasn't interested talking to anyone, especially a girl he didn't know.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

The girl, looking a tiny bit uncomfortable, stuck her hand out in greeting and offered a warm, friendly smile. "I'm Jennifer. Jennifer Parker."

Marty stared at her hand. "Marty McFly." Jennifer kept smiling as the bell rang.

"Hey, I'll see you later."

"Sure." Marty rolled his eyes. Jennifer left his side. Marty looked at her. "Hey!"

"What?" Jennifer turned on her heels.

"Why didn't you call me a freak like everyone else?"

"Because I don't think you are."

And with that, the young girl left. Marty stood in the hall, taken completely aback, as the swarms of teenagers filled the halls. Shaking his head, the fourteen year old went to his first period.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

At lunchtime, Marty picked at his sandwich and slowly peeled the crust off of it. The table moved and Jennifer Parker sat next to him. Marty stared at her.

"If you have a reputation you might want to leave. I have a problem with ruining them."

"Nah, I don't have one. Besides, I hate seeing people alone."

"You know I'm the lowest level of the totem pole, right?"

"So?"

"So if you want to be someone in this school you might want to leave."

"I'm not leaving. Besides, I'm an outcast too."

Marty stared at her skeptically. "I doubt that."

"No, really, I am. But that's what happens when you transfer schools in the middle of the year like I did."

"Where'd you come from?" Marty tried to seem interested but he found the crust on his sandwich far more interesting for some odd reason. Maybe because he figured the young girl talked too much.

"Ohio, but I didn't have any friends there either, so it's okay."

Marty rolled his eyes. "Right. A person like you not having friends."

"It's true. Ask my parents."

"Like I'm ever gonna meet them." He rolled his eyes again.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Returning home, Marty was lost in thought. That Jennifer girl seemed to be nice. Too nice to him. He decided to try and steer clear of her.

Right then, snapping him out of his thoughts, was another boom from the same house from earlier that day. The one with the crazy old man. Marty knew who he was. Old crackpot Doc Brown. He was always conducting experiments in that house of his, and was hardly, if ever, seen. It was told that he was insane and belonged in an asylum. Some said that he wasn't actually a human-that he was some kind of alien. Others said that he stole children in the middle of the night. Whatever he is, Marty thought to himself, I'm gonna find out. He walked up to the door and held up a hand to knock. That was when he froze. He had heard stories of children and teenagers going up to the door, knocking on it, going inside, and never seen or heard from again. With that second thought, Marty backed up from the door and hurried home.

He hadn't noticed the light twitching in the curtains at the window.