A/N New Story, Yay! Hopefully this time I'll actually finish it…

Disclaimer: Do you honestly, honestly, think I am Ally Carter? Do I look like her? No. Do I have her name? No. Do I have her talent? Of course not. So I don't own the Gallagher Girls.

Hey, soul sister

I don't wanna miss a single thing you do…

Tonight

~Train (Hey, Soul Sister)

Cameron Ann Morgan. That was her name. Something plain, something simple. Cameron Morgan was not like those 'lonely' girls you read about in romance novels that finds a perfect guy and has a hidden talent or something.

Cameron Morgan was truly lonely.

Well, in her logic she was. She didn't have many friends, but the few she did she trusted with her life, and she didn't have much family, apart from her mother, who always drank too much, her mother's boyfriend, who abused her when she was little, and now abused her little sister, Lacey.

There was no boy in her life that she would randomly meet one day who would fall madly in love with her and do everything in his power to win her heart. And if she did find a boy, it wouldn't be a hot, sweet one like in the romance novels. It'd be an ugly douche.

Because Cameron Morgan didn't live a fairytale.

She lived a reality.

She hid in the shadows of the old barn, watching all the dancing couples, the sweet, nerdy guys who always treated their girls best, the douches that could get a girl with just one charming smile, the jocks that had their girls cheer for them as they played football on Roseville High's football field.

When she did go to a party, which was hardly ever, Cameron Morgan always hid, and never talked to anyone. She never got drunk and gave it all to someone only to forget about it the next day. In fact, Cammie believed she was one of the few girls who hadn't had…well…their special (or not-so-special) first night, in the whole school.

And she didn't mind too much, because her mother and her mother's boyfriend wouldn't approve anyway.

"Cam?"

Cammie looked up, only to meet a pair of brown eyes and a face she knew much better than her own. "Bex? I thought you had plans with Grant."

"I do. He's here. But remember, sisters before misters. Or chicks before dicks. You choose," Bex said, grinning her big, pearly smile.

Cammie raised an eyebrow. "So you're basically calling Grant a douche?"

"Well…oops…I forgot what it meant…" Rebecca Baxter sounded so much like little Liz at that moment, that Cammie's heart panged, and her face must've shown it, because Bex's features softened and her grin subsided, as she realized what'd she said.

"I'm sorry, Cam. I miss Lizzie, too. But eventually we'll get her back," Bex said, slipping onto the hay bale with her, slipping an arm around her best friend's shoulders. Bex knew she had taken it harder than anyone, when Liz had had her accident and had been in a coma for the past seven months.

"It's okay, Bex. I don't want to ruin your first date with your future husband. Go, child," said Cammie, wiping a tear that had rolled down her cheek, pushing Bex toward where she had seen Grant.

Bex gave her a mix of a smile and a sympathetic look, which only she could pull off, and walked off, looking back once, so when she had turned her back on Cammie, she walked toward the bathroom to fix her mascara, which wasn't smeary like it was when a girl in a romance novel broke up with said hot guys.

"Watch it, idiot!"

The boy who had dropped his beer down her white blouse was glaring at her with green eyes. And she was glaring at him when she snapped back, "I'm not the dumbass who carries beer open!"

"In case you didn't know, little girl, I like to drink beer when I get it."

"Interesting. Can you see how many craps I give?"

"More than I the amount of craps I give about you."

"Apart from being a douche, you don't even say sorry for you dropping beer on me," she was almost yelling by then, her brown eyes filled with fury.

"Well, I'm sorry you're PMSing that's for sure! And I feel bad for anyone who has to put up with your crap."

"I feel bad for anyone who has to put up with your face."

"Watch your mouth, little girl," said the guy, glaring, before a smirk, a freaking smirk, appeared on his face and he stalked off, while she stormed to the bathroom.

"Stupid, stupid boys," she mumbled, wiping off mascara, wincing when the antibacterial soap ran through a cut on her face that her mother had given her a week previous.

She looked in the mirror and saw Macey McHenry, one of her closest friends, standing there, looking at her curiously, before she walked over, took the paper towels from her, and started taking off her make-up properly, before she said, "So I heard you and Goode yelling it off. What was that all about?"

"First of all, Goode? Uh, no, he's anything but Goode, and I don't know him. Second, that stupid drunk idiot spilled his beer on this shirt! And I just bought it three days ago from Victoria's Secret."

Macey's blue eyes lit up when she said, "You went to Victoria's Secret? For once, I am proud of you. But anyway. He's new. I think he's in only in your world history class. His name is Zachary Goode, and he's single."

"Why do I care if that douche is single? He could go screw himself."

Macey's eyes twinkled, a smile playing on her lips. "He doesn't have too. He has all the juniors swooning over him."

Cammie wrinkled her tiny nose. "So he's gay? You said 'all the juniors.'"

"Sometimes I wonder if you have mental problems or not."

"I probably do, thanks to you. Now, just get me out of here."

"Nah, you can stay here, and suffer. You need beer."

"You know I don't like getting drunk, but at this point," said Cammie, sighing and blasting off the cap of the beer Macey handed her, "I don't care," and took a swig.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The pale, pre-dawn light sliced through the room like a knife and Cammie's head pounded from the sunlight and from the alcohol she had consumed the previous night.

She glanced beside her and shrieked. Lying, on the bed, curled up besides her, was a boy. And not just any boy.

Joshua Abrams.

Apart from Goode, he was also a Grade-A douche.

He groaned, woke up, and saw her besides him and said, "So, how much did you enjoy last night? You probably won't remember, but I didn't have as much alcohol as you did."

She stood straight up, and covered her chest with the blanket and glared, snapping at him, "You took advantage of me while I was drunk?"

He chuckled. "Of course I did, beautiful," he said, trailing a finger down her bare arm. "Don't worry," he said, grabbing his clothes and going to the door, "We didn't go all the way," he finished, and slipped out of the room, leaving her to sit and cry.

For all the douches that ignored her, and made fun of her, then later wanted her for her body, which wasn't flawless, like Macey's. They just wanted it because her body was another body for them to spend the night with.

She knew she was in her room, so she knew it was her mother climbing the stairs, and she knew she was at the top and making her way down the hallway, due to the creaking of the last step.

The door flew open, and Cammie cringed, looking at her mother, who was obviously hung over and extremely pissed off that a boy had been in Cammie's bed. And for more than a sleepover.

"Cameron Ann Morgan!" she almost roared, her dark brown hair flying all over her tanned face. "I come home from work with Joe, expecting to find you either asleep or at taking care of Lacey, and I find a boy in your bed, and you drunk as hell."

Cammie was furious as well. "At least I'm not drunk 24/7 and at least I support Lacey and I, while you go to 'work' when I know very well you and Joe go to a club and drink, and I'm also surprised you guys don't have more kids than the stupid child on the way."

That pretty much made her mother's head explode because she stormed over to Cammie, pulled her hair roughly, knowing she was tender-headed, and slapped her cheek and her mouth. She glared and yelled, "We support you, you stupid, ungrateful child and you deny it, and your own sibling. And you have the nerve to disrespect your own mother! Stay here! If you move it will be worse for you!"

She left then came back 30 seconds later, in which Cammie had changed so it wouldn't hurt as much when her mother hit her with Joe's belt. "You little slut," said her mother when she saw Cammie had changed, "You have the nerve to take off your clothes with some boy, but not when your mother's going to hit you?"

She came and struck her hard with the leather strap on the leg, so her knees buckled and she cried out in pain. "That's right, stupid, cry out like you do with that boy."

She smacked her daughter again, on her stomach, so a purplish-bruise started appearing. Then she hit her on the wrist, but the belt buckle struck the place by accident and the metal made contact with bone and Cammie screamed in pain loudly, sobbing by them.

"You cry for this but not for what that boy did to you, you ungrateful, stupid child!"

Then she left the room, and left Cammie knowing why her life wasn't like the girls in the romance novels—because those girls had boys that treated them well, and family who cared about them—Cammie didn't. And that was why her life wasn't—and never would be—a fairy tale.

A/N Hi! So, I've kinda been wanting to write this story for a while, because I've been reading all those novels where the main character is a 'lonely' girl but she always finds that perfect guy…Don't worry, Cam will too, just who will it be? Zach or another boy…

Anyway…OMG…I cried like such a baby today (well, technically yesterday) because school ended and my girl Yesely, who apparently has her personality like mines, graduated, and so did my 'brother' Jose, and my Jaden, too…I cried like a baby since I have known all the 8th graders since I was like 6…and now I am an 8th grader. It sounds so strange to say so. But anyway, I sobbed so much to the point I couldn't stop crying for over 45 minutes and I couldn't let them go…so yeah…

Will you guys sign my virtual Yearbook? (I was in the Yearbook staff, so I helped make a lot of it!) because my actual yearbook is now full of signatures of a bunch of people…You guys can sign it in a review, you know…

~Alex, the 8th grader…who will go cry in the corner now…