Author's Note: The story will alternate from Naomi to Emily's POV every other chapter. This chapter involves a chance encounter, a look into Emily's life, and the lovely Gina Campbell. Also, fun fact, the fic, Story of my Life is named after the Social Distortion song of the same name. Anyways, enjoy. Share your favorite bands or songs with me, I'd love to listen/hear from you lovely readers. WKB.

Emily's POV

Its 9 am when I finally wake up, and that shocks me. I was supposed to be up an hour ago. My Saturdays have become increasingly busy, and with gigs every Friday night, I never have enough sleep to properly deal with my fucking hellish Saturdays. And to think, back in college, I used to look forward to them.

Part of it is Katie's fault, you could say. I should be really thankfull, and I mean I am, normally. Just mornings like this, where I wake up late and I curse the world, I feel perfectly justified blaming her. To be honest, I'd hate to be in her position. She's Switzerland in a war that's been going on for three years between our mother and me, and as an attempt to bring the family back together, Katie's arranged biweekly suppers between the three of us. Sometimes Dad makes an appearance, but he prefers our random solo lunches where neither my Mother or Katie are present. I definitly prefer his lunches, any day. And if I could, I'd bunk off these suppers too.

First on my horrid to-do list is to shower and get ready. After my shower I realize what a challenge getting ready will be. Usually I have more time to do things throughout the day, but today, everything is pretty squished together. I'm going to have to be pretty efficient. I pack my bag for the day, with a change of clothes, my sheet music for tonight, my makeup kit and hairspray. Fortunatly it all fits, and I sigh with relief when I check the time. Its 10:03, and my first lesson isn't untill 11:00 so I'm doing perfectly well for time. And I'm perfectly comfortable until I hear Call Me by Blondie. Its my ringtone, and I know, kind of cheesy choice for a ringtone, but I don't give two shits. Caller ID states its Katie.

"What up, sis?" I answer.

"Hey lezza," she replies, rather loudly, "just reminding you, we're coming to your flat."

"Oh fuck." I had completly forgot. My Mother had insisted we have meals at my tiny flat instead of the Fitch mansion, for some cocked up reason. Shit. Its stupid really, when she has her ever so 'lovely' six seater table. I think its mostly because of the neighbours and my mother's ever so important image. Either that, or she worries I'll somehow influence my poor, young and innocent brother. That was sarcasm.

"Shit. Katie, its a complete mess," I offer, hoping, somehow, that it would somehow change things.

"Yeah, look who you live with," she points out. That's only kind of true. A lot of it is his mess, but he can't take the whole blame.

"Whatever, Kay," I say, "I've got shit to do, so I'll see you at 6."

I hang up on her, not letting her add anything that might ruin the rest of the day. Reexamining my bag, I empty the whole thing, placing only the sheet music back in.

I'm a bit surprised when I enter the pigsty of a kitchen to see Cook. Usually he's not up until at least noon, though his current state could hardly be considered awake. More like a half naked, zombie Cook, sipping coffee while smoking an early morning fag.

"Hey, Red," he greets, not bothering to even look up from his phone. I pop some bread into the toaster, while stuffing the shopping list into my hand, and grabbing the keys too. Its not until I hear Cook snickering behind me that I turn around.

"What?" I blurt out.

"Sorry, Emilio, its just," he states, pointing to my outfit. "Ridiculous. But... kind of sexy librarian." I'm wearing a plain black skirt and white blouse, one of the only shirts of its colour, and an ensemble only used when I'm out giving lessons.

"Not funny, Cookie." I reply, "you'll be here for tonight, yeah?"

"The gig?" Cook asks.

"No, the fucking Fitch family feast," I answer, "here." I gesture around us, where the normally unused kitchen table sits, covered in CDs and bottles of assorted alcohol.

"Ha, no."

"Please, Cookie..." I beg, giving him my best puppy eyes. "Please?"

"Fine. But you owe me," he says, "so, what's for supper?"

Oh, shit. I turn around on the spot, facing the fridge instead of Cook sitting at the counter. Pulling it open, I'm not too surprised to see what we have. There's some beer, a few lemonades and mixed drinks, leftover kraft dinner and a few assorted vegetables and fruits. Nothing to make a supper for four.

"I'll pick up some chicken or something. And stuff for a salad. Steamed veggies." I suggest, running through what we have in my head. I'll be very pressed for time today.

"Stop at the bakery beside Tesco, get a cake or something." Cookie adds, to which I respond with a very confused look. "What?! Can't have a proper meal without a proper dessert. And that bakery is fucking ace."

"Right. Can you clear the table? Just so there's room for plates." I ask, hoping he'll comply. I don't really care how messy the place is, in fact, messier is better. Anything to spite my mother.

"We angering Mama Fitch?" Cook replies, catching on quickly.

"Yeah. Dress hardcore. Tattoos showing and everything."

"You got it, Red." Cook agrees.

"I'll see you at 5:30, kay?"

"See ya, Emilio," taking me into one of his classic Cookie hugs, before departing off to his room. I'm taking the motorcycle today, and though not many of my students' parents like it, the students themselves think its the coolest thing ever.

My first lesson of the day is a piano lesson for a young girl named Nicole, who lives near my mother and Katie's, in one of those rather big houses in a motherfucking gated community, where the grass of every house is perfectly even, bushes perfectly manicured and the cars are shined to an ever sparkling gleam. I hated it. Absolutly loathed places like this, but they payed well. Most of my lessons were taught at the Cabaret's Music School office, in one of the classes, but the higher class parents, such as Nicole's, often paid to have the teachers come to their houses to teach instead.

Nicole herself wasn't a bad kid either. She had the potential to be a great piano player, though she did whine a lot when she thought the songs I picked for her were boring. Her parents were strict, and at first, only let her play classical music, but with some convincing from me and some complaining from her, I was teaching her some easy Disney songs, some jazz and a few classic rock songs.

Her lesson lasted an hour, and at noon I left, to my next lesson, which was with Trevor, a kid my brother's age who had been one of my first students. He had been taking guitar for two years now, and though I'm not the best quitar player, at least not as good as Cook, I know enough to teach and I know how to teach, which is something Cook lacks. Trevor's lesson was only half an hour, and after that, I was off to the music school, where I had yet another lesson, this one with a younger girl, Jessica, who was learning piano as well. Most of her stuff consists of learning notes themselves, as she's only six.

"Hey Wes," I greet, as I'm about to leave for the day. He's by the printer in the hall, printing sheet music.

"Hey kid," he smiles back. Wes is about the only coworker both Cook and I enjoy hanging out with from the school, and he happens to be gay as a window. He also suffers against the school's strict dress code, and most of his outrageously lovely outfits are left to nights when we hang out.

"Supper with the fam today?" he asks, while I'm packing up my sheet music and stuffing it into my bag.

"Yup, it'll be a right ole laugh," I reply, "a fuckin' joy."

"Well, good luck, I'll see you Monday, love." He waves as I'm out the door.

"Cheers," I shout back.

Changing my plans slightly, I turn my motorcycle towards home instead of towards Tesco. I need to check on Cook and his progress with the table, and I feel really uncomfortable in these clothes, certainly on the motorcycle.

It's three when I get back to the apartment, and I'm surprised to see Cook gone. He has no shift at the McClair's CD store today, and usually mid day, he can't be fucked to leave the house. I know he'll stay true to his word, he wouldn't let me endure this fucking fiasco of a meal alone, and I'm surprised to see the table clear and set.

The CDs and sheet music that had occupied the table earlier have been pushed up on the counter and on a chair and the stereo in the corner. Some of it has become a centre piece on the table, lacking room elsewhere.

Placing the bag of sheet music on a chair, I run to my room, ripping of my work outfit and quickly changing into the set of clothes I had prepared for tonight. My holey, faded black Rancid shirt I put on first, along with some tights that had seen better days, and over the tights I place my pair of black and white checker shorts. I replace my converse with my Dr Martens, and I grab my jacket for when I leave. My makeup is next on my to-do list, making it more pronounced and radical then before. I'm set to finish my errands now, and putting on my jacket and grabbing my small, red purse, I'm ready to go.

Tesco is about five minutes away, but traveling back is always somewhat of a challenge with bags of food, so usually Cook and I only do it when necessary. Freddie does let us borrow his van on occasion, but other than that, Cook and I are stuck travelling with our beautifull motorcycle.

Taking a cart, I fill it with the necessary, grabbing some easy-to-bake frozen chicken, some lettuce and croutons, and I'm good to go. I do receive a strange look from the cashier, who happens to be a forty year old woman, but I'm used to it.

The bakery Cook had mentioned is right in between a dry cleaners and a jewellery boutique. The bakery itself isn't anything out of the ordinary, painted a tacky pink colour, with wide windows that are decorated with blue streamers and fairy lights. A sign above the door states: Gina's Buns. Its cute and qauint, and I'm laughing inside.

The bakery being empty, I walk straight up to the counter, browsing through the isles, where bread, cupcakes and muffins are randomly placed. The smell of the bakery is lovely, like chocolate and fresh bread. The cakes displayed on the counter all look heavenly, and they were all so well decorated and made, deciding will be a big challenge.

"Hi there, can I help you, sweetie?" a voice interupts my cake ogling, and the lady, dressed in an apron, and grinning at me with such a genuine smile I can't help but smile back at her. She's lovely. Her crooked nametag states her as the owner, Gina.

"I guess I need a cake. They all look delicious though," I tell her and her smile grows.

"Whats the occasion?" she asks.

"Tedious supper with my mother and sister," I reply, "and flatmate." I add, remembering that I'm here because of Cook.

"Sounds lovely, dear," she says, laughing a bit. "So fancy to impress or simple to say 'I couldn't be fucked'?"

"The second one, yeah," I nod, instantly appreciating this woman more and more.

She's about to pack up what looks like a very chocolate cake when the bell on the door jingles, signalling someone coming in to the store. I don't look back right away, but Gina, the bakery woman looks, and her face brightens even more, if that's possible.

Two girls are entering the store, a blonde and a brunette, both beautiful, and the bakery woman envelops both into a large hug.

"Christ, Mum," the blonde scoffs, even though she's smiling and her bright blue eyes are sparkling. "So I take it your vacation was nice?"

"Fantastic love. I take it you both got nice and settled in the flat? Jake visit often now, with you having your own place?" She ends that question with a wink, and I can't help but laugh, which I try, with my best efforts to cover up with a cough.

A beautiful blush rushes up the blonde's cheeks and I can't help but sweep my eyes across her, and her blush gets brighter as she notices me standing at the counter.

"Sorry, love," the bakery woman says, rushing back to the counter, "my mardy bum of a daughter never visits me, so I have to make the most of it."

"Thanks, mum. You know I can hear you right?" she remarks back.

The blonde's mother starts packing my cake, while humming, when the brunette makes her way over, followed by the blonde.

"Hey Emily," the brunette greets, her dark eyes shinning in amusement. She seems to automatically sense my confusion when she explains: "We met yesterday."

That sparks my memory right up, when Cook and I had sauntered our way to the VIP section of the club, still high from the night and the performing, met two beautiful friends of my sister. Strange choice for my sister, I guess. Neither really fit in with the club or the music that night.

"You're friends with Katie," I say, smiling back. The blonde seems apprehensive whereas the brunette is simply observing.

"Effy," she shrugs, introducing herself, "incase you don't remember. And Naomi."

"And you're making friends, Naomi dear," the blonde's mother interupts, making me and Effy smile and Naomi grimace.

"Fuck off, Mum," is her response, which shocks me internally. Language like that towards my mother is what got me slapped in the face, cut off and kicked out. That, punk rock and my sexuality.

Gina's response is simply to smile and hand her daughter a cupcake. Something my mother would never do.

"Are you going to Katie's whatever tonight?" Naomi asks, somewhat unenthusiastically, regarding the house party as more of a chore than a party. Effy just shrugs along, as if agreeing with Naomi.

"Don't think so," I reply, shaking my head, and though little, I catch what might be disappointment. Of course, my eyes drift lazily down from her eyes downwards. Eyes off tits, Fitch, I tell myself, her mother said something about a Jake. Straight and taken. Fuck. "Gig, but I could probably drag Cook with after we're done. If we're still alive." I offer.

Gina and I are exchanging cake for money, with Effy observing all the while sipping from her pop drink. I give Gina a sincere thank you, before turning to the door.

"So, what's the cake for?" Effy asks.

"I'm fat," I say, "Its my lunch."

"Really?" Naomi scoffs, eyeing my size up, clearly doubting the power of a Fitch on an empty stomach.

"Nope, tedious family supper," I say, checking my watch, "which I'll probably be late for."

"You're going to take that on the motorcycle?" Effy asks. Its the only other vehicle parked outside the bakery, other than the battered Civic I assume belong to the two.

"Yeah," I nod, "Always up to a challenge."

"I bet you are," Effy nods.

"Anyways, I'll see you two later," I wave, heading back to my black baby. Challenge was right and I stuff the groceries into the back compartment and make room for the cake on my lap. The whole trip home was rather hesitant, and I almost killed the cake at an intersection, but on arriving home, pulling it out, it is fine.

"Got the cake, Emilio Man!" Cook shouts, as I reveal the perfectly intact cake. He reaches to get some icing but I slap his hand away. And that's when I notice his hair. His usually unkempt, dark brown hair, styled in what he called, "the Sid Vicious coif" is now transformed into a strange, almost uneven and short mohawk that's unevenly painted green.

"Jesus, Cook. Your hair!" I can't help but point and laugh.

"I did it myself," he declares as he preens the top of his head proudly. "You said you wanted shocking."

"Shocking, not hilarious!" I retort, to which Cook responds by tackling me down and tickling me. "Fuck Cook! I give! I give!"

"Tell me I'm handsome first! Fit!" Cook demands.

"Never!" I dramatically shout, trying to push him off again, but he's almost twice my weight and height. It's not going to happen. My answer only makes him start to tickle my underarms, slowly approaching my breasts.

"Don't you dare," I say, seconds before he grabs both my tits. "You oaf!"

"Say it, Fitch!"

"Fine," I grumble, "you're fit."

"There!" he proclaims, getting up, and hoisting me up from the kitchen floor. "Now was that so hard?"

"Yes." I grumble, "and we're late Cookie! Its almost fucking 5!"

"Fuck, Red," he sighs, following me to the counter. The chicken we pop into the oven right away, in hopes that it will be done before Mum and Katie get here. I give Cook the simple task of chopping letuce for the salad and I prepare the steamed veggies. Our meal dosen't look bad for something prepared in twenty minutes, and I'm quite happy with it. The ceaser salad probably has a bit too much dressing and too few croutons, the steamed veggies are a bit bland and undercooked but the chicken looks fine and smells fine.

We place the serving plates on top of CDs and where room allows it and we're set. Right on time too, as I hear a knock from the door. I gave Katie an apartment key a long time ago, and usually she just barges in, but I'm assuming with Mum around, she's trying to be the favorite, polite daughter our mother sees her as.

I'm at the door while Cook is filling the glasses with wine, and I open it to reveal both Katie and my mum. Katie pulls me into a quick hug, whispering good luck into my ear, before leaving me with my mum to go and talk with Cook.

"Mum," I greet her, closing the door behind her. Her face barely registers the greeting, not changing from the scowl she had upon opening the door. She takes a quick look around the flat, as if hoping that's its become more family friendly and punk free over the month, but a quick huff shows her disappointment. I'm plenty used to it though, I don't think I've seen her happy around me since I was fourteen. Katie has always been her favorite, but until that age she had gone out of her way to hide it. Now, she just makes it plainly obvious. I'm her other daughter, the one she'll mention only if she remembers. Not that it surprises me at all, I've spent the last two years or so doing my best to spite her.

"Hi Jenna!" Cook greets her, full of fake enthusiasm.

"Hello James," she utters back, she's completly unimpressed. "I see you two are still living together." My mother's opinion on Cook always changes, though when she had first heard that Cook and I were moving in together she had been thrilled, thinking it was some sort of heterosexual, summer, housing arrangement. She hadn't spoken to me that whole year, having kicked me out when I had declared myself gay, and having heard this from Katie made her thrilled enough to actually attempt to mend her relationship with me. Of course, unknowingly, she hadn't considered the influence Cook had on me. Mostly introducing me to punk rock.

"He is my best friend you know" I mutter back, sitting down in my seat and crossing my arms.

"Lovely to see you too, Jenna!" Cook smiled, running his hand through his awful, green hair.

"Hows your little band doing then?" she asks as if she's sacrificing a lot just to be a bit civil.

"Great! I don't know if Katiekins told you," Cook tells her, as I serve out the chicken and salad, "but Jay got us an audition to open for Rise Against. We're also playing at the festival in two weeks. Fucking ace stuff."

"That's" she cringes, trying to find an adjective, "fantastic."

There's silence for a moment, we're all eating quietly and Cook is taking large sips of his wine.

"Have you ever thought of playing different music?" Mum asks, "people are always looking for good wedding bands." She suggests. I look at Katie and she just shrugs.

"I'm not sure the TitWits are right for Let's Get Fitched, Mum," Katie defends, before either Cook or I can say anything.

"Maybe if the..." Mum stumbles for words, unwilling to even pronounce the band name, "if they played better music-" Cook's getting pretty angry, and though Katie notices, its my turn to play some sort of peace keeper. I was never as good at it as Katie is, but at least I can change the subject.

"I saw some of your friends today, Kay" I interject.

"Yeah?" she asks, exagerating her interest in hopes that the topic change goes smoothly.

"The ones Cook and I met yesterday," I tell her, "saw them at the bakery by Tesco."

"Effy?"

"Yeah, from one of your uni classes, yeah?" I confirm and she nods, "and the blonde girl, Naomi."

"They were fit," Cook agrees, to which Mum just sighs. I'm about to agree and add my own comments about my opinions on the blonde, when I'm shut up by Katie's glare. Not now is what I get from it. Katie Fucking Fitch, the only person in the world who can shut me up with a look. Its a Fitch thing.

"Right, they were visiting Naomi's mum at the bakery," I pointed out, "did you know that Cook?"

It was Cook's favorite bakery after all, and he might not just go there for cookies and cakes. A guilty smirk and shrug is his response.

"Didn't know Gina had a daughter," he admits. Of course he's got first name basis with Naomi's mum.

"You should hang out with Katie's friends more often," Mum suggests, whenever Katie makes friends, Mum is always extremly fond of them, whatever gender, whereas my little group of friends are my band, Wes my coworker, and a group of fangirls that I get and sometimes end up sleeping with. Misfits and bad influences.

"Mum," Katie counters, "I've known Effy for like two weeks. And I only met her flatmate yesterday. You haven't met either of them."

"But they sound lovely," Mum adds, trusting Katie's choices.

"They are," Cook affirms, waggling his eyebrows, and we ignore him.

"What class do you have with them?" I ask, curious to know Naomi's interests.

"Intro to Phil," Katie answers, "just with Effy though. Naomi's her flatmate or something."

"Know what she does then?" I aks, and her smirk tells me more than I need to know. She knows I have a new target. "I think she has a boyfriend, you know." I point out, but her smirk remains. Mum's eyes move from me to Katie, trying to understand what we're saying with our eyes, and Cook's too distracted by cake to care.

"Right," she replies, her smirk remains, "some boring shit, like politics or law or something."

"That's fantastic. She must be very clever. You should hang out with her more often Ems. She sounds like a wonderful girl." Mum insists, to which Katie coughs, covering her laugh, and I just smile. Mum hears 'straight' and 'law' and she approves. Of course, the hanging out me and Katie are thinking of Mum certainly wouldn't approve of.

When I first came out, in college, Katie kept me far away from her friends, afraid that I'd embarass or freak her friends out. The whole fiasco of me getting kicked out of the Fitch mansion, and having to move into school accomodation resulted in me becoming friends with Cook, who was also in student accomodatinos, and Freddie, the guys that Katie's friends all thought were lush, popular and fit. And so, Katie went from ignoring to super supportive. Since uni, she's centered and become more mature about it, and we became better sisters because of it.

"Anyways, Intro to Phil is dull as fuck," Katie rambles on.

"Katie! Language!" Mum says.

"Mum, we're with Cook and Ems," Katie points out.

"Hey!" I shout back.

"Its true. Punk and Cook made you foul mouthed!" Katie reminds me, to which Cook smiles proudly and I just shrug.

"Are you going to Katie's soiree?" Mum asks. Of course, Katie worded 'house party' differently to Mum.

"Cook and I have a gig tonight. Maybe after," I tell her.

"You know its not polite to show up late," Mum nags, pointing this out as if I'm a child.

"Mum, you know playing music is kind of my job," I remind her, "I get paid for these gigs."

"Dosen't the school pay you enough?" she asks. She really hates the band.

"Yeah, but I'm trying to save up Mum."

"What for?" she asks, in her ignorant, money-grows-on-trees way.

"I don't know," I say, my voice laced with sarcasm, "a nicer drum set, a bigger flat, university maybe."

The last one makes Mum frown and look down at her slice of cake in guilt. When Mum had kicked me out she had cut me off too, making me have to start my own savings. Together, Cook and I had been able to afford our decent flat, our motorcycle and I had been able to save up for a used drum set. The joint savings Mum and Dad had for Katie and I now only went to Katie's university tuition.

Katie gave me a sad smile, the one she uses to tell me she wishes things were better, and early on I had insisted she use the money.

"Anyways, we should get going, Katie love," Mum adresses her, getting up. Without a goodbye, she's out the door, and Katie turns to me.

"I'm sorry, Ems," Katie apologizes.

"Its really not your fault, you know," I tell her, pulling her into a Fitch hug.

"No hug for the Cookie Monster?" Cook hollers, attention to us.

"Fuck off, Cook," she answers, flipping him off instead and following Mum out the door.

"That was awfull" Cook pulls me into a hug next. We stay together longer in our embrace, until the hug works its magic and makes me feel better.

"Lets get ready," Cook commands, "tonight will be fucking mental!"