Disclaimer: Well, if there's one thing that is completely true about me it is that I absolutely in no way possibly own School of Rock or any of the original characters from School of Rock. That would be outrageous.

A/N: Why hello there readers. Previously I didn't think this story really sprang from anywhere, but I guess you could say it does sort of have a Perks of Being a Wallflower vibe to it, with what it's frequent references to an unknown party, except it's not told in letter form. The story is the first person telling of Freddy Jone's life by Freddie himself to an unknown character that will not be revealed until the end of the story. Hmm...well that's all anybody really needs to know right now, so read on! And I hope you like it. If there's anything anybody wants to say, review please!

In the dawn of my being I was known for having two outstanding traits. One was that I was an asshole. Yeah, I know—it's debatable that this phenomenon was one that never seized, but still, I evolved much over the years and I like to think that I am now something more…at least something maybe a little bit better.

Something more deserving of an actual existence…but people are let down, especially by themselves, all the time…so who am I to complain?

My other trait was one that was spun from the inner weavings of heavy evolution and parents and adultery and alcohol.

I was in the third grade the first time my parents left me alone with matches. Of course they had left me alone before…but never with anything too dangerous for myself. They didn't know any better though. With a father that spent much more time around smoking hot secretaries than his children and a mother who obsessed over body image and cared much more about what the sexy pool boy thought about her than anything or anyone else, I was left to fen for myself in a world of "jazz and liquor" and in an attempt to gain some sort of recognition I lit one of those matches and set my room on fire.

My nanny rescued me because Dad was on a "business trip" and Mom was getting lipo.

And that's how "he burns stuff" became number two on my list of traits…

It was stupid to set that room on fire, but you know what? I've been an asshole for a very long time…so I don't really care that for one moment in my life my actions were actually directed at the two people I probably shouldn't but do resent most anyway.

Over the years I've learned something about life. You get what you can from your parents until you realize there's nothing to learn from them except how not to act. At least…that's how it was with mine. Unfortunately, being an asshole runs in my family. It's genetic. My forefathers passed down four things throughout the generations; good looks, charm, blue eyes, and an ignorant, self-involved persona.

Yeah…I guess it's not very self-involved to say that you are in fact self-involved…actually, it's a pretty self-less move…but that's because I finally did learn my lesson.

And my lesson was learned all thanks to a girl. A girl I'm very much in love with, but can never be with because of how I used to be.

I've come to terms with the fact that I fucked everything up, but I will never forgive myself for letting go the one person that could ever possibly have been…well, the proverbial "one".

It's stupid. They say that in movies and in books and on TV…but, you know what, man? I don't watch many movies and I don't read many books and I don't like TV. So as cliché as people outside my inner realm would think me saying she was the one, or the one that got away, is it's really not cliché at all. Not to me.

It's just the sad facts of a schmuck and real life…

A very, very real life.

And in one last vain attempt to make sense of things…and make sense of myself and my actions and all the shit that happened…you know, between me and her…and even you and Kate and Zack and everybody…

I've decided I need to tell someone about it. I don't know…I guess it's some sort of shock therapy for myself. Whatever I'm trying to do I know it's got a little something to do with closure.

So if you'd like to listen it would greatly appreciated, but if you don't want to listen then plug yourself into some earphones because I'm getting this off my chest with or without you.

At age eighteen I was a pretty busy kid. You knew that better than anyone.

You knew about how I attended Horace Green Prep as a senior, how I worked at a record store selling old vinyl, played drums in the band, but what you didn't know what that I was photographer for the school newspaper.

Yeah, weird huh?

Well, sorry to burst your bubble but not really. My guidance counselor bribed me. I needed more extra curricular activities. It would be my only way of getting into college and away from parents. Those were her exact words. Greta sure did know how to get teenagers to open up to her.

And I starting fucking her as soon as I turned eighteen.

Yeah, I know man…screwed up, right? But I'm Freddy Jones. Screwed up is just the way I am. Jeez, you know that…

Anyway, although senior year was just beginning, I could feel high school slipping away but I wasn't exactly complaining…college meant a lot to me. I would be out of the house…I would be on my own.

I would be…well, in all honesty, all I really cared about was the girl to guy ratio and how it was very much tipped in my favor.

A lot of my adolescent life was centered around girls. This girl, that girl—what I did with Tracy, what I didn't want to do with Lynette but did anyway, how this happened, where that happened—whatever. Being a Jones, or at lest being a "proper" Jones, meant that I was a ladies man.

Just ask my father. He'll vouch for that one.

I think you met him once. I don't think you'd remember him though. Not because he's not memorable or anything, but because you were never one to like "suits". That's what he was. A "suit". My dad was "the man" and even though I always wanted to stick it to him I never did. I mean, I guess once I did…yeah…one time I did, but that's later in the story. One of those things I never got around to telling you about.

You'll get a kick out of it though, I promise.

Okay, back to the story. Although girls were a very important aspect of my life the most important thing to me was the band. Now that I'm looking back on life I know that the band was important because it was my family. Or…my family away from my family…which wasn't a family at all.

The band was like…the cool old hippie couple that lived next door with an orange VW bus and blasted Zeppelin out of their speakers. The cool old hippie couple that would invite me over for Thai food and take me to concerts and tell me about what Woodstock was like.

The band was the godparents I wished I lived with.

You know…I loved that band. I wish I would've shown it more often because I don't think I ever did. There's a lot of things I wish I would've done when I was younger…

I write music now sometimes. I even wrote a song about you once. Maybe one day I'll sing it to you…

My voice isn't great, but I've been told it's not something to laugh at. Hell, you might even like it. Who knows.

I sure as hell don't.

"Spazzy McGee, make way for me!"

I was working.

Katie had just burst through the front doors of the record store, her smile filling up the whole "B" alternative rock section. I think I even witnessed all four of The Beatles fall in love with her as she ran over to where I stood behind the check-out counter.

If ever I had a best friend…or a sister, it was Katie Brown. She was beautiful…I mean, you know that already, but I feel like I have to say it to you because that was one of those things I never said or did anything about. Katie Brown was beautiful and if or when I'm ever able to see her again…if that could ever possibly happen I would definitely tell her that she's beautiful. Inside and out.

And if I chicken out would you tell her I said that anyway?

Man, why am I even asking? Of course you'd do that for me. That's part of the reason why I'm telling you this. Because you've always looked out for me.

I got to say, that's pretty damn noble of you.

You're a good person.

But anyway, Katie's big brown eyes lit up the night sky. She and her "take no shit, leave good tips" attitude were a kicker. I loved having her around. She was always so chill…and so happy.

You don't encounter many choice people in your life…but when you do you remember them forever.

I don't hesitate in saying I will remember Katie Brown forever.

"Hey, Posh, what can I do for you today?"

Beware, because this is where my story really begins. The day Katie came into the record store and bought Pink Floyd's "The Wall". My story begins here because of what happened next and what happened next was that Katie, who had been pining after that record ever since she first saw it and had been saving up her tips from her low paying waitressing gig for almost a month, realized she forgot her wallet when she left her friend's house that morning and she had to call "said friend" so that "said friend" could bring "said wallet" to the record store for her.

Some of the stuff I'm going to tell you is stuff you already knew about, but a lot of it will be new information. I know you won't judge any of the people involved because you knew all of us better than we knew ourselves.

I'm still not sure if I'm ready to do this, but I already started so why stop here?

It's time for me to grow up…so I'll start at the beginning. I'll start at the chime on the record store door as my best friend entered, frown on his face and wallet in his hand.

"Hey there, Zackie-Poo," I said with a smile.

It was almost as if he didn't see me.

His glare was directed at Katie.

So here's something you didn't know. Katie and Zack didn't start dating two months after Summer broke up with him.

They started dating three months after he and Summer got together.

Well, there you have it. Chapter one in this very odd story I've managed to find myself telling. I hope you liked it. Please, please review. I love hearing what everyone has to say :)