A/N: This is my first stab in the dark, I mean fanfiction. I have a bit of chapter 2 written already, so if you like this chapter, let me know and I'll post it. I do not really know where the story is going, but T to be safe.

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah Doctor Who is not my property, nor is any of its characters, etc.

Chapter 1

In high school, everyone is a nobody. We are all just a slight variation- or a hybrid, if you will- of chronic loser syndrome. There are the band geeks, the pre-Madonnas, the book sniffers, the jocks. High school is moderately diverse to be represented by a single meat head who calls the final plays in a skin on skin death match with a conical ball. You know, that meat head who swears he's straighter than a pastor's kid, and beats up anyone who so much as breathy oddly in his presence. What hybrid of nobody am I? Honey, if only I knew.

"Amy, I would love to go shopping with you- except- I'M A BLOKE! And I have band practice later."

"Oh really? Are we speaking of the band in which supposedly, you are lead guitarist extraordinaire?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Rory, you couldn't even play the recorder properly in grade school. There was a school-wide noise complaint, and you were assigned to an 'alternative' class."

"So? I can play. You'll see. My band will be spectacular, and then maybe you will think differently."

"Whatever, Rory."

Here's the thing about Rory, I love him, but he needs a boyfriend.

"Oi, Rory! Nice hair!"

I turned around a bit and saw none other than my other best friend Mel coming our way.

"And where were you?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure of the answer.

"Dean's office of course. Ms. Williamson- lovely lady-but a disappointing lack of imagination."

A story. A story in our youth is Mel's constant problem. It was my coping mechanism. He was my coping mechanism. That raggedy man with his dislike of everything edible save fish fingers and custard.

"Mel, he isn't real."

"Your memories beg to differ."

"They were stories, Mel, stories! He was a figment of my imagination that I created, seeking attention, over my lack of parents!"

"You're just spouting the garbage those therapists told you."

I sighed loudly, exasperated. There was no getting through to Mel, ever. She either laughed at you outright, or ignored you completely when you questioned her beliefs.

"Where has that shaggy haired boy gotten to, anyway?" It was a few hours later, and Mel and I were sitting on my bed.

"Oh that 'band' he's in now sorely required his god-like lead guitarist finesse." Mel nodded, and I watched as she twirled the TARDIS model in her hands.

"You know, if you want that, you can have it."

"Nah. My foster dad would pitch it on sight. It's not worth it."

"You could always move in with me, my aunt wouldn't mind."

Mel was parentless, and when I pressed her for details on her life before Rory and me, she refused to say a single word on it.

"Hey, what's that noise outside?"

Amy and Mel took one look out the window and dashed to the door, the TARDIS model was flung over Mel's shoulder without a second thought onto the bed. They opened the door just a crack and heard,

"EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

"What the hell is that?!" Mel asked, stealing the exclamation from my head.

"I…I don't know."