Not a story for Marissa lovers, not really even for Marissa haters. Just for people interested in a different idea. This is going to be like a ficlet, four chapters, one from a different point of view. Read. I think it's interesting, because Marissa interests me sometimes. I'd like to think she's deeper than she seems. I still hate her sometimes, though. But this is making me like her more. She's confused. Also, I don't believe in most of these labels. I like The Sex Pistols, The Clash, Nirvana, and also Ryan Cabrera. It's just to add to her desperateness. Let me know your opinion.

Delicate.

That had been what Mrs. Fisher had called her on the fourth day of seventh grade. Holly had brought Marissa home to watch some movies, and Mrs. Fisher thought Marissa was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. Glamorous, elegant, breathtaking, and...delicate. Marissa Cooper had never wanted to be seen as delicate.

"Don't ask us to attend
cause we're not all there.
Oh don't pretend 'cause I don't care
I don't believe illusions cause too much is real
So stop your cheap comment
cause we know what we feel
Oh we're so pretty."

The Sex Pistols understood her better than her own mother. Even her father when he came home late nights, kissed the woman he said was her mother, patted her on the head, and walked off to his office. The Sex Pistols with English accents and I-don't-care-because-I'm-British hair and jackets over bare chests. They somehow got her. She didn't care about shells, Marissa Cooper just wanted to break away from her mother but still be welcome back to her world when she chose to be.

"We know what we feel."

She knew who she was; well, she knew who she wanted to be. All at the age of twelve. She wanted to be accepted as real. Holly accepted that she was punk rock when she came to school once with her hair chopped up to her shoulders in the ninth grade. Summer just laughed and threaded her fingers through the uneven ends.

"Whatev, Coop. I just wonder if that'll match the Versace we bought last week."

Marissa loved how when she shook her head, her hair felt so light and tiny wisps would brush up against her cheek.

"Doesn't matter, Sum, I'm pretty vacant, and I don't care," Marissa replied, a huge grin on her face.

Summer laughed again. "All right, Coop, rock on."

But she hadn't fit in with anyone except the crowd she watched. The skaters, the rockers, the 'I'm-too-cool-to-care' people, the grungers. They all hated her. She'd heard "poser' a few dozen times when she wore her British 'punkers' on her chest. The cheerleaders, the surfers, and the jocks all said she was punk rock, deff. Luke, the only freshman to make varsity water polo, put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"I think you look beautiful, babe."

She smiled and imagined the rolling of eyes from the group she wanted to say she hung with. The misfits. The Seth Cohens.

He had actually talked to her. He had taken her aside one night at a barbeque his parents had welcomed her family to. He had whispered words that she fell into.

"Marissa, I don't know what you're trying to prove, but...it isn't working. I'm sorry if you want to be something, but I mean, what you want to be, you're not. It's just the way it is."

"Shut up, Cohen. Who asked you?"

"Yeah, that. Just...put down the act. It's not 'cool.'" He had used finger quotes that she had seen through the rest of the week until she had made an appointment with Celeste and gotten bangs and extensions put in. And the next day, at school, she wore the Versace top she had bought with Summer. And that 'phase' of her life, as Julie liked to call it, was over. She lost patience with The Sex Pistols. Her friends were all about R&B and rap. So she lost herself in that world the best she could, suddenly extremely unsure of who she was.

"I listen to the same music as Marissa Cooper? I think I have to kill myself."

She shot him a look. It all came flooding back. Seth Cohen really was a little punk, and not the kind she had wanted to be. Ryan had smiled at her, and he had believed her when she said she was angry. Luke used to always smile and say how could she be angry? He'd give her everything and make it better. Pinky swear.

And when Ryan had left her once and once again, it was over. No one knew Marissa Cooper, and she just wanted to slap them all. No one would believe she had problems and pain in her life because she was pretty, she was skinny, she was rich, she had the right people wrapped around her fingers. She did not know how lucky she was. That's why she distanced herself in the last year.

There had been DJ, a guy that didn't fit into any of the categories because he was lacking one of the criteria needed to be a Harbor School royal. He wasn't rich. Whatever. That had been a mistake. He still fit into every other category he needed to be cool. But in Newport, it was either all or nothing. Like Seth and Summer. She had everything; he had nothing. They both had their places and they found each other. That was it. Marissa got that. She still didn't want the punk that didn't like her to be with her best friend. Summer should get a guy with everything and become a trophy wife. That's what she was built to become. Marissa would've been able to deal with that. But now she was all 'The Walkmen are cool,' and 'there was this song Cohen played for me, 'Pretty Vacant?' You like that song, right Coop? It was pretty cool, huh, Coop? Coop?'

Shut up, Summer. You don't know punk rock just because you heard a song that you thought was 'pretty cool.' You don't get to take a guide into the punk rock world. Nuh-uh. Sorry. Go find an investment banker.

But Summer had stuck with her. So she owed her. She didn't hate her either. She really loved her sometimes. Summer was still around when Alex had been there. Everyone else just kind of made their distance, and Marissa was finally distancing herself from the beautiful people. Not Summer, though. When Summer had something in her head, she stuck with it, and she was the last link Marissa had to the only people that had ever called her 'punk rock.' Cohen still didn't like her much, though, and she had made her peace with that. He was a loser anyways.

Ryan had even left her. He hadn't fit into most of the Harbor qualities, so Marissa had deemed him worthy. But now he was all Lindsay, and Lindsay was one of the biggest preps you could find. Not a beautiful person, a member of the in crowd, but she wore sweater vests and played in the school's band. Yeah. Prep.

So Marissa had all this hate built up for everyone, Summer for staying, Seth for not caring, Lindsay for being perfect, Ryan for Lindsay-ing. Then Alex came. Alex was this girl from heaven with beautiful people worthy looks, but a screw you attitude anyway. Typical she went for Cohen first.

But Cohen couldn't handle her. He wasn't really that strong-willed. He was more of a grunger than a punk rock prince. Grungers wore plaid and moaned and groaned. Alex was tougher than that. Alex made Marissa a misfit. Alex was attractive, and she was real. Marissa needed real.

So she started to use Alex to depend on. She would call Marissa on her problems; tell her to cut it out, because it wasn't that way at all. She made Marissa stop using labels, not that she would've around Alex anyways. So when Alex had offered her a way in, she had taken it. She would finally not fit in to people's expectations. And Alex let her depend on her.

But Alex had gotten frustrated, and that made Marissa frustrated. Alex had wanted to calm down and slip into a realm of normal. Stuff that other people, other couples, had. Marissa didn't want that. She didn't like that the group she had been trying to fit in for forever wasn't really that different from her beautiful people that she had finally distanced herself from. Everyone wanted to be happy. She just thought that the misfits had a more intense happy, but in the end; these people were just as boring, droll, and lame as the beautiful people. So Alex was over.

And then Ryan had started talking to her again. At first, she was certain he hated her, but he talked to her again nonetheless. And then Cohen had started talking to her too. He wanted her to be with Ryan so she would hang out with them again. Cohen and Ryan were close, so if she was close with Ryan, she'd be close with Cohen. And he knew that, but he still pulled her towards Ryan. And no matter his intentions, maybe Cohen didn't really hate her.

Maybe she was finally fitting in with the select few that she actually liked.

Not that she particularly liked Cohen, because it's an unwritten law that if someone dislikes you, you have to dislike them back.

But Ryan had left that prep.

Summer had done the whole water polo player thing, without actually doing the water polo player. So at least Marissa could know that Summer was definitely not as much a misfit as Marissa was. Summer could still get the jocks and the surfers, she just chose the skater. Marissa could deal with that.

Maybe she could be happy.

Maybe things would go back to being the way they should be. The Brains, The Brawn, The Boobs, The Beauty. Marissa still should be The Brains, but that would leave Seth with The Beauty, and that was laughable.

She still had her group back surrounding her now.

Because even The Sex Pistols didn't want to be lonely.