DISCLAIMER!

Me: Okay so while I was sitting in the car one day listing to my ipod, I got this crazy idea for a a story involving my two favorite people. Adam Lambert and his Glitterbaby Tommy Joe! And because I got the idea from listing to a song, I've decided to name each chapter with a song title that has lyrics that go along with the chapter. . .

Adam: (walks in from the middle of no where, looking as hot as ever) Hey cool! What's it about?

Me: (immediately star struck and speechless)…Um…

Adam: (devilishly smirks)

Tommy: (comes in behind Adam eating a taco)… Adam, dude where did you go?

Me: (completely in awe, because Adam and Tommy are standing right in front of me.) .God….

Tommy: (sees me staring wide eyed at both him and Adam, and raises his eyebrow)… Who's she?

Adam: (looks at me quizzically) What did you say your name was?

Me: (stuttering) Ja-Jackie…

Adam: (proudly to Tommy) Jackie is writing a story about us.

Tommy: (looks at me, mouth full of taco) About what?

Adam: (crosses arms) I don't know yet, she was about to explain before you barged in.

Tommy: (mouth full, eyes narrow at Adam)

Adam: (smiles my direction) Now, what were you saying?

Me: (still completely star struck, gazing at them with my mouth hanging open, not saying anything)

Tommy: (looks at me worried.) Is she okay?

Adam: (purses his lips thinking.) Maybe we should just read it. (takes notebook from my hands.)

Tommy: (scarf's rest of the taco.) Okay!

Me: (to the readers) I…uh….own nothing…..

~CHAPTER ONE~

"It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die

Cause I don't know what's up there beyond the sky

It's been a long, long time coming,

But I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will"

–

A Change is Gonna Come

A deafening silence filled the crowded class room to the point of near suffocation. The only sound that could be heard was a sneeze or a cough, both noised though, where scarce. It seemed that every student sitting stiffly in class was afraid to utter a single sound. My ears were even ringing because of the dead air, which was so think I was sure it could be cut with a knife. The entire atmosphere in the class room was heavy, and dual, what else could you expect from a twelfth grade English class? The temperature of the room only added to the torture of high school. Why the school building intended on keeping each room at subzero temperatures was beyond me. Their excuse was that 'It helps keep the students awake.' which I couldn't have been the only one to know that was bull shit. Half the kids in class now were zonked out, drooling all over their fake wooden desks for Christ sake. Meaning the school was wasting their time and money on air conditioning. Of course I even had trouble staying awake, especially during Mrs. Wendell's riveting lectures on 'pronoun antecedent agreement', whatever the hell that was. Most of the time I just zoned out, lost in my own little world, one where I would much rather live in than this fucked up one. I would escape to that place inside my mind every chance I got, where it was me and my guitar, and I was content.

I did my best trying to pay attention even though right now it seemed impossible, but today was one of those days. It didn't help that I woke up in a shitty mood, of course I always woke up that way, it was just worse today. My hair had been a perfectly hideous mess of tangled blond and brown. It had taken me all morning to tame, which for now looked okay. On top of my personal problem, mom had decided to go beige drinking again, leaving her a hung over mess that I had to clean up, but I was used to that.

I couldn't lie anymore, it was too tiring. I used up all my energy acting like everything was okay, my life was fucked up. Plain and simple, there was no way around it, no easier way or less harsh way to put it. It had been ever since my father, Ron, deiced to blow himself away two years ago, after the accident. Ever since that day, I couldn't remember a time when my life seemed remotely normal. I had hoped by now I could say it was getting better, God I wanted to, but I couldn't. Sure I was better now than I was over the summer, those had been the really horrific nights. Not even the drugs could make the nightmares from that time in my life go away. The drugs just added to it all. Living on the streets of East LA was rough. Nothing made those thoughts and images leave, even now they were still there, hiding and lurking deep inside my brain, waiting until the wall would crumble around me again. Like they had after the accident. I could feel the them, those nightmarish thoughts in the back of my mind, they were an annoying itch my finger nails tried to desperately claw away, but could never reach.

For now though, the nightmares had dwindled in frequency. I still had them, like I said, they would be their forever, but the intensities of the dreams were becoming less, and I was actually sleeping most nights. All the ones that I didn't have to go hunting my mother down at the bars or even the allies. Those were the bad days, which were most days sadly. Ever since dad had taken a pistol to his head, she was never the same. She blamed herself, I didn't know why. Ron was unstable; we both knew he was; only the car accident had made it worse. He always had a bad temper that was set off by the slightest little imperfections, but he would never have hurt my mother or me. That was just who he was. The doctors even said that the damage to his brain could make things worse, they had been right. If there was anyone to blame it was the fucking doctors or the drunk driver that hit us. Had the driver not have had a blood alcohol level of .10, and then the damn doctors wouldn't have had to prescribe the depressants that finally got him in the end. If it hadn't have been for those people, then maybe my father wouldn't have committed suicide in our bathroom, and my mother wouldn't drink herself into a drunken stupor every night.

I sighed to myself, releasing all that wasted energy and pain thinking about how shitty my life had turned out to be. Apparently though, my heavy breath caught Mrs. Wendell's attention, as well as the rest of the class. "Mr. Ratliff, would you like to point out what is wrong with sentence number three?" Her beady little eyes bore into me like a thousand tiny knives.

Mrs. Wendell was probably in her mid to late fifties if I had to guess. She was short and pudgy, with glasses that were too small for her round face. Her graying hair was thinning and was in dire need of a new style. On her right arm she wore a skin tone sleeve, resembling a cast that covered her entire hand except for her finger tips. On the first day of school she explained that she was a survivor of lymphoid cancer or something, and that because of the disease she had to wear the sleeve. Without it she had said her entire arm would swell the size of a fucking hippo, which I found amusing.

I looked down at the complex wording on the page in front of me; every letter bunched together making it impossible to read. My vision blurred, and the room fell into one of its unnatural silences that meant every eye in the room was now on you.

"Um. . ." I stalled, scratching the back of my head. How the hell was I supposed to know what was wrong? Why did it matter? By the time I was out of this hell-hole I wouldn't even matter, there is now way I would ever remember any of it. Deciding to save myself from the embarrassment of answering incorrectly I shrugged in my seat. "I don't know." I met her eyes with just as much fire as hers, until she looked away. "Mr. Pittman," she said choosing another victim. "What is wrong with sentence number three?" I smirked to myself having luckily slid out of Wendell's slimy hands.

Monte sat across the room, the third row second desk. I didn't like a lot of people, mainly because I didn't trust anyone, but I had grown up with Monte so it was different. He was the only one who somewhat understood me. I wasn't sure how many times I owed him for saving my ass. He was always there, even during my rough trip this past summer, which I was tired of thinking about for one day. There were quite a number of times where had Monte not been around; I would be six feet under at the age of nineteen. Monte knew the good side and the bad side of me, as well as the part of me that didn't want to deal with my mother every night. Monte thought a moment then answered, incorrectly, but I had to give him credit for trying. Hell I was to chicken to even do that much.

Wendell shook her head, frustrated, and then continued to explain to the class what exactly was wrong with the fucking sentence. The rest of the class followed the same boring routine as always, which consisted of boring lulls of Mrs. Wendell's preaching, and the class not caring, until the bell rang releasing us from the side splitting agony. I shoved my pencil in the pocket of my black and grey striped hoodie, and gathered my books in my arms. Monte, who sat closer to the door then I did, waited for the rest of the kids to pile threw the door, so he could walk with me to lunch.

I hated the hallways. They were always just as crowded as the class rooms, only it was worse because everyone was moving and bumping into one another. Monte and I pushed our way through the thick hordes, elbows knocking elbow, hearing the strings of profanities coming from the other students as Monte shoved them to the side. It was easy for Monte to make his way through the growing mass of kids, but I wasn't exactly built to plow people out of my way like him. Monte wasn't necessarily tall, I think I was actually a little taller than he was, but for what he lacked in height he made up for in broadness. I was skinny, not underweight, it wasn't like I had a disorder or anything, and I just had a high metabolism. Everything I ate seemed to disappear, because I never gained a pound. Being seniors helped a little bit. The freshman were scared enough to stay out of our way, knowing that they were at the bottom of the food chain so to speak, and the other kids knew their place.

The cafeteria was well, disorganized and chaotic. There were three different lunch line, that survived the same repulsing lunches, and yet people still fought over which one to stand in. The same thing went for the round lunch tables, kids fought over chairs or the location of the table, it was idiotic. I understood wanting to set with a friend, after sitting through class it was the least you could do to help yourself, but they didn't have to fight over the stupidest things. I guessed that was why I wasn't much of a people person, people were boneheaded dumb asses. People at this school were anyway. All the jocks were bone heads and all cheerleaders were sluts, harsh but true.

Monte and I managed to get through the groups of kids and found our usual table in the far back corner, away from the bone heads and the sluts, and sat down. There was a loud commotion coming from one of the lunch lines, and I looked to find two kids fighting over their place in the damn line. Did they not realize that no matter where the hell they stood, they were gonna get fed that disgusting shit? I rolled my eyes at them. Almost everything the school served for us to eat looked and smelled questionable. As much as I enjoyed eating, not once had I let a single morsel pass my lips since the very first day my freshman year. Just thinking about the food made my stomach churn uneasily.

Most of the time I just didn't eat, because there was never time in the morning to deal with packing a fucking sandwich, let alone the lack of suitable materials. I had more responsibilities to worry about than what I was going to eat for lunch, like taking care of my drunken mother, and making sure she was still alive every morning. Sometimes Monte would bring me a little extra something, if he didn't forget, or if he was able to sneak enough food from his house.

Monte's family was tight. I liked them okay, they had always treated me kindly, but those people only bought the bare niceties to survive. It was a wonder they even had a television or any other 'expensive' technical device. They were always saving, taking the free handouts and cutting coupons. Who the hell used coupons anymore? It was almost psychotic they way they were about saving money sometimes. I often wondered if he was adopted, because Monte was completely different than those people, I doubted he had a single greedy bone in his body.

Monte pulled out the plastic chair beside me and sat down with his brown paper sack. He opened the small package and turned it over, spilling out a bag of chips, a sandwich and a can of soda, right away my stomach growled angrily upon seeing the food.

"You want some chips man?" Monte asked laughing at my mouthy stomach. It gargled in agreement. I felt bad always taking his food, because I knew how much he loved it.

"Nah, I can last one more period." I told him. He shrugged, unwrapping the clear cellophane coiled around his sandwich. My stomach grumbled again, watching him take a bite, and my mouth started to water. I embraced my torso, as if to cage the angry beast of a stomach inside me, Monte just laughed and handed me the unopened bag of chips. I sighed, defeated but thankful, and took the chips from him.

Lunch was usually uneventful, except for the small quarrels in the lines, but usually just as unentertaining as the rest of the school day. Monte and I would talk, sometimes, about guitar lessons after school, or about how my mom was doing, but that subject never lasted too long. Lunch had always been just me and Monte, until today.

I finished the entire bag of chips Monte had given me, almost as fast as it had taken the few short seconds to open them. Long story short, I was fucking hungry. I had skipped breakfast, like every day it seemed, to help mother, so hopefully she was better when I got home, which I knew was too much to ask for. When I was sure that there were no little crumbs hiding in the small crease at the bottom of the bag, I crumbled it up and tossed it into Monte's paper sack. He just laughed and continued eating his sandwich. Unsatisfied with the small snack, my irritable stomach began protesting again, this time we both ignored it.

"Is there someone sitting here?" a strange voice suddenly asked. Startled out of my day dream I looked up to see who had spoken. I had never seen the kid before in my life. Of course I didn't pay near enough attention to really know who was a regular student and who was new. They were all just faces and names to me. He was tall, with silky red hair that hung past his ears. The rocker cut really didn't match the color, but it wasn't bad. His eyes were icy blue eye. They were a glossy mix of light blue and grey, like storm clouds at sea. His clothes looked somewhat on the expensive side. He was dressed in a pair of black straight leg jeans, which were tucked into a pair of snake skin cow boy boots, a plane v-neck tee shirt and a leather jacket. A chain hung from his belt, which was fastened by a large oval buckle. I was surprised when I glanced down at his finger nails, like mine they were painted a slick black. Besides Monte, this kid was the only other guy at school that wore nail polish. I looked at him for a moment, getting caught in his glossy cobalt eyes.

"No," Monte said, swallowing a mouthful. The kid hesitated a second, biting his lower lip. "Do you mind if I sit with you." he finally asked working up the nerve.

"Go ahead." Monte said, motioning to the chair next to mine. A smile parted his perfect lips as he pulled out the plastic, navy blue chair from under the table, and sat down. As I watched him, I realized how gracefully he moved, every gesture he made seemed to flow like liquid. Not even the metal legs of the chair made the annoying ear piercing scratching sound it usually did when it was drug across the white tile.

"My name is Adam," explained. "I just moved here."

"I'm Monte," he pointed to me "that's Tommy. We didn't just move here." Adam chuckled at Monte's joke. His laugh was genuine and care free, something I wasn't used to hearing. I couldn't even remember the last time I tried to laugh. They way my life was didn't allow for something so enjoyable, not anymore. The most I could ever manage was a smirk, never a full smile. It took too much energy, energy I needed to take care of my mother.

"Where did you move from?" Monte asked taking a swig from his soda can. Monte knew how I felt about people. He knew it took a lot for me to really get used to people. I had too many reasons to not trust strangers, so until I got comfortable, Monte would have to do most of the talking.

"Indiana." he said laughing, slightly embarrassed. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and then he smiled. Monte wrinkled his nose. "Oo, Sorry I asked." he joked once more. Adam laughed again, the pink fading from his slightly freckled face. "I know right." Adam paused for a minute to take a bite of his own sandwich then continued. "It really wasn't that bad. But I have to say I could get used to California."

Monte and Adam talked the rest of the lunch period, while is sat thinking to myself, and picked the chipping paint from the lunch table. Adam didn't realize it, but I was studding him, watching how he acted around people, around Monte and I. There wasn't one thing I missed sitting there watching him, I didn't do it to be creepy; I did it because I was well, very untrusting. So far though, Adam was passing with flying colors. Perhaps it was his small town attitude that made him so charming and likeable; everyone from California seemed to have an ego the size of the fucking Empire State building. I listened to their conversation, adding my opinion where I felt necessary.

"Where is your next class?" Monte asked, putting the trash from his lunch in the brown paper sack. Adam shifted in his seat, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket, and read the schedule printed on it.

"Government." he said with a frown. My mouth pulled at the corners, the look on his face was almost enough to make me smile.

"I have that next too." I said. "I'll show you where it's at." I stood and put my hands in the pockets of my hoodie. Adam nodded. "Awesome."

Adam and Monte stood up as I started to leave the almost empty lunch room, and threw their bags in the trash. I realized then, that I was glad that Adam had the same class as me next. He was different from almost every kid at the school I had the misfortune of meaning. Adam was from a small town in the Midwest, which meant he wasn't raised around the self-centered pricks that I had been. As much as I liked it just being me and Monte, I couldn't lie, but I wouldn't mind having Adam around.

A/N: okay! there is the first chapter... i hope you like it...and i hope you like the disclaimer. i got the idea from Capella85 so yeah... I'm gonna try to make the disclaimer less boreing then the usuall thing every one does on here...so please leave me a review. I will replay to them all! xD

~Jackie