A/N: So, this is only my second Pitch Perfect fic and the other one was pathetically short. This one is a bit longer and I'm not sure what to think of it, so I thought I'd post it and let everyone else decide. So, please leave me a review with your thoughts.
Disclaimer: As much as I wish I owned Pitch Perfect and its characters, I do not.
I stared moodily out the window of the car. I couldn't believe that my dad got custody of me. My parents' divorce was nasty, but Mom always said that as long as we were together, everything would be okay. Well, everything is not okay now. Mom is still in LA and Dad is taking me to Brookings, South Dakota. I still have my mixing equipment, so I guess that's all a fourteen year old can ask for when her parents are divorced.
As Dad pulls up to the house, I have to admit, it's nice. A four story house overlooking a lake seemed more like a vacation spot than a home, but I wasn't going to complain. Dad looks back at me. "I think you'll like it. There's a soundproof room on the fourth floor that looked like it might be a great place for you to set up your music."
I nodded absentmindedly and stared at the house. It could be a great place to live. Then the Barbie wannabe came out the front door and waved merrily. I frowned at Dad. "I didn't know that place came with a bimbo."
Dad glared at me. "That's my new girlfriend, Rebecca. Her name is Sheila if you care to know."
"I don't care to know."
Dad shook his head and sighed and I grabbed my music bag from the trunk. I shoved past what's-her-name and ran up the stairs to the fourth floor where I found the room Dad was talking about. I gaped at it. It wasn't a room, it was the entire floor. There were no walls anywhere but on the sides, an entire floor of soundproofed walls.
I heard Dad come up behind me. He put a hand on my shoulder and said "I thought you would like it."
I turned into him for a hug, my silent thank-you. I don't often give hugs. He smiled and let me go before I got uncomfortable. Shelia was the next to come up. "The room is gorgeous, isn't it? I was thinking we could make it into a movie room or something."
The smile slipped slowly off my face. I knew it was too good to be true. Dad frowned. "Hun, I thought we agreed that Beca could have this room for her music."
"We did, but then I got to thinking that it would be a great movie room because the walls are soundproofed and everything. I'm sure Beca doesn't mind, do you?"
I pursed my lips and forced a smiled. "No, it's fine. I don't really care. I can mix music anywhere."
Shelia grinned. "As long as it's not too loud."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. "I'll keep it within reason."
Shelia clasped her hands and sighed happily. "Everything is going to be perfect."
Dad was still frowning. "But I already told Beca she could have the room."
I sighed inwardly. Time to play the good daughter. "It really is fine, Dad."
He eyed me warily. "Are you sure?"
"Yup. 100%"
He nodded, still looking a little suspicious. I looked around the house, finally picking the last room on the third floor. It was also the smallest, but I didn't really care. It was the farthest from Dad and Shelia's room and I just wanted to be alone.
First day of school three months after moving in. Dad and Shelia announced their engagement and I tried to think positive thoughts. Shelia insisted on helping me choose my outfit and was thoroughly disappointed when I settled on a pair of jeans, a black shirt, my ear spike, and a stud in my other ear piercing. Shelia had frowned and insisted that I take out my "ear monstrosities". I had ignored her and skipped breakfast in order to get away faster.
Classes were normal, I didn't make a single friend, and all in all I had a sucky day. All I really wanted to do was go up to my room and mix some music before I did my homework. Shelia met me at the door pressing for details about my day. I ignored her. "You should get used to me, Beca. I'm going to be your new mom whether out like it or not."
I glared at her. "You may be marrying my dad, but you will never be my mother."
Shock and anger crossed her face and she did something completely opposite to what I thought she would do. I was expecting her to tell me to go to my room, but instead she slapped me; hard.
My small, five foot nothing frame was jerked to the side and I fell into the wall. I gasped and looked back at Shelia who looked like she would do it again if she felt like it. I clenched my jaw and balled my fists. "Don't touch me ever again, you bitch."
She gave me another stinging slap and I pulled back my fist and punched her in the nose. There was a crack and Shelia howled in pain. Dad ran into the room and took one look at my raised fist and Shelia's bleeding nose and slapped me himself, a painful blow that caused my eyes to tear up.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Rebecca?"
"She started it."
"How so?"
"She slapped me twice."
"Oh, yeah?" He looked down at Shelia. "Did you slap her?"
"No, we were just talking and all of a sudden she got violent. I don't even remember what it was that I said."
I glared at her and Dad glared back at me. "Go to your room and pack up your equipment."
I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"
"You just punched my fiancée in the face; you're grounded, I'm taking away your music equipment."
The punishment was like a blow to the stomach. "What?"
"You heard me. Go pack the equipment up; I'll be there in a moment."
I marched upstairs in a daze and quickly packed my equipment. Then a plan formulated. I locked the door to give myself some extra time and grabbed a pen and some paper and wrote a note. Dear Mr. Mitchell,
I can't stay anymore. I put up with Shelia's crap for three months and I can't take it any longer. She lied, she slapped me twice and the slap you gave me made a third. As Carrie Underwood once sang in a song, 'This is my temporary home. It's not where I belong. Windows and rooms that I'm passing through. This is just a stop on the way to where I'm going I'm not afraid because I know, this is my temporary home.'
Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Good luck with Shelia. I don't know when, but someday I'll find a place in this world. It just isn't here. Goodbye.
Rebecca Mitchell.
Dad knocked at the door. "Beca, open up."
I didn't reply, just slung the bag of equipment over my shoulder and opened the window. "Beca, you know I have a key for your door."
"What's the point of having a lock then?"
I could practically see Dad rolling his eyes. "This is no time for joking, Beca."
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a hold of the branch just outside my window. "Who's joking?"
Dad groaned. "I'm going to get the key now."
I swung myself onto the branch and carefully climbed down the tree. I had my wallet and one of my dad's credit cards with me. I knew the pin and figured I'd withdraw some money and walk for a while. Once I was out of the city, I'd find a motel to stay in and get a job at a supermarket.
I jumped the last few feet to the ground and grabbed my skateboard from where I'd left it on the grass. I skated away, moving as fast as possible. Only fifteen minutes later, I was out of the neighborhood. For a while longer, I wandered. Just before nightfall, I found an ATM and used Dad's card to get some cash. I withdrew only one hundred and fifty dollars, not wanting him to be too far into debt.
When I was finished, I snapped the card in half and tossed it in the trash. I didn't sleep that night, not wanting to stop until I was as far from Dad and the step-monster as humanly possible.
I had plenty of energy for some odd reason so I skated all of the next day as well. I was almost out of state when I took a break and checked into a motel, using more of my cash than I had liked. I moved on the next day and bought fast food for breakfast. For a few days I did this, although, I didn't stay in a motel after the first night. I chose to sleep in alley instead.
Eventually, I decided that I was uncomfortably low on cash and "accidentally" bumped into people, working on my pick-pocketing technique. I could get a few dollars from some poor sucker's wallet and it could keep me going for a few days.
When I had been gone for about a month, I found a bunch of kids in an abandoned warehouse. During the day, groups of about three people would go out and steal from whoever they could and use that money to keep everyone fed. They let me join their group and I learned a few things. My technique was perfected, my punches were stronger, and one girl gave me a few more ear piercings.
When I was a month away from my sixteenth birthday, I met Jesse. He found me wandering the streets looking for the right person to steal from. I had only grown two inches in the past two years and was still really tiny. I had planned on stealing one guy's wallet and getting away without trouble, but the man noticed his wallet missing and had pinned me to the wall, saying that if I was taking his money, he might as well get something out of it.
As much as I tried, I couldn't get out of the man's hold. I tried kicking and punching, but the man just laughed and gave me one of those looks. I managed to get out one scream before the man covered my mouth. Jesse ran into the alley and got the guy off of me. We hung out a bit and after a month, he asked me out. While talking, it had come out that I didn't like movies. "You don't like movies? What the hell is wrong with you? Not liking movies is like not liking puppies!"
I shrugged. "They're fine; I just get bored and never make it to the end."
He looked wounded. "The endings are the best part."
"They're predictable. The guy gets the girl, that kid sees dead people, Darth Vader is Luke's father."
"Oh, so you just happened to guess the greatest reveal in cinematic history?"
"Vader in German means father. His name is literally Darth Father."
"Oh, so you know German. Now I know why you don't like fun things. You need a movie education, you need a movication and I'm going to give it to you."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh really? Many have tried and failed."
"Well, I bet many don't show you The Breakfast Club."
"It sounds vaguely familiar."
Jesse shook his head and pulled me out of my chair at the restaurant. "C'mon, we are going straight to my house to watch The Breakfast Club."
And thus began our relationship. We went to his house and he spouted facts while we watched (he watched, I slept through) the movie and just as the end credits came on, we looked at each other and he leaned closer, his lips brushing mine slightly before I leaning into him and pressed my lips firmly to his.
