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Chapter 1: A little background information

Nobody called out to stop the fight and explain. I'm not sure why I thought someone would. They didn't even turn their heads to even acknowledge I said anything. Assholes.

Jake joined in the fight and so did Paul. They were pretty strong fighters for a bartender and a line cook that couldn't cook to save his life other than a few appetizers. Really, that's no joke. I never could figure out how he got his job and stayed employed. He must know the cheap ass owner, Billy.

Seriously, I should get to know these guys because I clearly don't know jack shit about them. I just thought Seth was a nice college student trying to see if his dream could come true and he could dump his studies. I think it's more so because he sucked at school and his grades were shit. But, that's just a theory because technically, I was never meant to see his grade transcript on his desk in full open view.

Seth went to an all-boy's school while he was growing up. I met Seth at a bar. He gave me some cheesy pickup line about me running around in his head because the boy clearly has no idea how to act around women and is very naive. I was pretty close to smacking him upside the head when he apologized. We sat down and had a nice conversation. He had told me previously his father died and his mother married some deadbeat. He has a sister named Leah who could give a rat's ass about anyone but herself. She's in love with some dipstick in Canada. He told me he's in school to figure out what he wants to do but thinks he'll be a mechanic if he doesn't figure it out soon. I learned he played music and the rest is history.

Ang and I know each other from childhood. She is a few months older than me (5 to be exact) but we were in the same grade. She wants to get out of Forks just as bad as I do. Yep, Forks is a tiny hole in the wall town that maybe you've driven through but didn't really know it. It's that small.

Phil is actually my step-dad. Weird, huh? My mom/surrogate, Renee, had me when she was 18 and married Phil shortly after she bailed on Charlie, my dad, when I was a few months old, citing she wasn't responsible enough to care for a child even though she was clearly fine carrying one to full term. I grew up with Charlie and only met her when I was 13. She asked me to come live with her by the time I turned 14. I jumped at the chance to get to know my mother and live in a nice, warm place. I moved to Phoenix without a second thought.

It turns out, however, I should've thought it through. Apparently mom was an addict and I was too young to understand the signs. Yeah, you heard me. WAS. She overdosed and Phil had nowhere to go. I ended up to be all he had left which is all kinds of fucked up and wrong. From what I have been able to tell, he's fairly useless in so many ways. So, we went back to Forks. He got a job at the diner as a head cook, rented a studio apartment and I went back to living with Charlie because, by that time, I was 16.

Charlie is Fork's very own Chief of Police but he really couldn't identify all that well with raising a girl, so I was on my own a lot. I know my dad loves me but has a hard time expressing it. I'm not really a touchy-feely person anyways. Sometimes, though, it would be nice to hear a fatherly declaration of love.

I'm getting off track. Let's see. Oh right, Angela. She was the only friend I could ever count on. I can honestly say that we would do anything for each other. She has listened to every stupid thing I have ever said and ranted about. We studied together and shared secrets about leaving. Angela started off really, really quiet but then blossomed into the girl she is now. Totally wild but very protective of us. I couldn't imagine being close friends with anyone else since I've always found most people to be superficial and somewhat bipolar in high school.

Out of all of us, she's had to survive a difficult childhood and that can really scar a person. I don't really know all the details but from what I've seen, her so-called 'parents' were verbally and physically abusive.

Flashback

We were 11 years old at the time. I saw her walking to school instead of taking the bus. It seemed strange to me because she lived at least a few miles away and she was walking so slowly; it looked like she was in pain. Her jeans were torn slightly and her hair looked like it had been pulled out of her barrettes.

I asked her, "What's wrong? Why can't you walk normally?" I didn't ask about her appearance because I knew that would make her even more sad.

I then noticed some blood dripping down her leg because of the torn jeans and probably hadn't noticed it. My eyes widened and I pointed at it. "Angela, you're bleeding! You need some help!"

"Shhh, don't talk so loud. I'm fine, see? It's just a little blood. I tripped on the sidewalk over there."

She gave me a pained look that told me nothing and yet everything. I wanted to tell my dad about it but she said it has to be our secret and I can't tell anyone. Why can't my father be home more often to see her like this? He always leaves to fish or whatever when he sees I have her over. It's like he's allergic to teenage girls.

I quietly helped fix her hair in the school's bathroom and we cleaned up the blood as best as possible. We missed homeroom but I didn't mind because I needed to be there for my best friend.

End Flashback

Later on, I measured the distance from her house to the school. 6 miles. That's how far an 11 year old walked alone to school while in pain.

I remember another time I felt totally helpless, too. She was a little older, then.

Flashback

It was during our last year in junior high, right before I moved to Phoenix. She came to school with black and blue bruises constantly but they were never in open sight. I knew this because I would always trick her into 'trying out' new clothes from my closet. Either she forgot about them or stopping caring if I would see.

On this particular day, she had a hard time sitting down in the lunch room because her butt hurt so much. She'd been sitting on one hip or another through all her classes. I took her to the nurse and lied about her having cramps just so she could lie down but there's only so long you can be at the nurse's office until you have to get back to class. I told them I'll take her home and signed us out. I technically took her home. I brought her to MY home to get her some sense of security.

She actually spent a lot of time at my house. She would always leave before her parents got home from work. I tried to get her to admit what was happening over there and turn them in but she wouldn't. I suppose it would be scary to lose the only home you've ever know, even if it is shitty. The unknown can be scarier.

Jessica saw me walking Angela to the nurse and told everybody, and anybody who would listen, that Angela looked like she was raped. I hope she was off the mark. I really hope so.

Angela heard the rumor and she skipped school the next day. When she came back, the look on her face was so heartbreaking. I wanted to give her parents a piece of my mind and use Charlie's handcuffs but she begged me not to. She told me she isn't worth it.

Fuck. What do you say to that?

End Flashback

I was too dumb to understand that she needed guidance and counseling. It made me so sad how she thought she was worthless. It never made complete sense to stay in a home where you're mistreated. But I didn't say anything out of respect for my friend. I couldn't lose her.

Whatever happened to her at home, although I use that term lightly, she stayed quiet about it. She always refused to talk about it and I didn't want to nag and annoy her. I figured she'll tell me if and when she's ready. Regardless, something happened to change her by the time I came back to Forks. It was like she became a totally different person.

How, you ask? She changed her look entirely. She started dyeing her hair red. Like, fire engine red – not just auburn or whatever. She started wearing goth makeup. I think the most makeup she ever wore previously was maybe some lip gloss. She pierced her ear lobes about 3 or 4 times but nowhere else. I guess the equipment had issues the one time she tried to get her eyebrow pierced. Luckily she's never been into tattoo's, I don't think I could stomach waiting for that to finish. Not only does it take a while but there was a stench and some very creepy guys at Port Angeles's finest parlor. No offense to any other ink…um, places but this one just happened to be like that.

She changed her wardrobe, too. Everything was either dyed black or purchased black. There were no more colors in her clothes. It was like she was preparing to go to a funeral every day. Now that I look back on it, she used to only wear pastels. I think all of my black clothes were purchased by her. The only shoes she wore were combat boots or tall thigh-highs when wearing a short mini skirt. Those typically came down to right below her ass. She didn't have much in the way of inhibitions anymore. She made out with any guy that gave her any attention. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have minded batting for the other team if we went to any gay bars. It's too bad we didn't, actually; they play better music.

She got us two fake ID's when school got out for the summer our junior year (I didn't bother asking how) and we went club hopping constantly, getting drunk and, in Angela's case, sometimes on drugs. All at the proper age of 17. It was fun living like an adult without the responsibility but I knew, deep down, what was happening. She was acting out, trying to defy what life had thrown her way. I made sure to stay close to her and keep her out of harm's way. I can't tell you how many times I had to drag her ass back to her apartment or my house because she got too wasted. It was like she was trying to drink away her problems and forget her past for, at least, a few hours. I guess I would, too. I knew that if I didn't watch out for her, she would eventually end up on the streets as an addict or prostitute.

Even though Ang had money after her parents died, I felt weird about using it for myself. I was able to earn some money in high school by working at Newton's Outfitters and saved it as much as possible. Their son (shudder) is Mike Newton. I swear, he's got dual personalities. One of the them makes fun of how I dress and the other keeps asking me, secretly, to go out and have sex with him. Do I look like a practice fuck before he finds someone to marry? Not that I'd ever want to marry him or anything. Or anyone else anytime soon or maybe never. After seeing Renee and Charlie split on the terms they did, marriage and kids have never been something I've dreamt about. I don't want to screw up a kid with all my baggage and issues. It's just not fair to do that to someone so pure and innocent. In fact, I'd always wondered why people need fishing licenses but any idiot can have a baby, whether they can afford it and/or take care of it well. People go through rigorous evaluation for adoption. One would think someone would wise up and mandate a fucking parenting class at least.

Anyway, me, being me, caught his shit on tape and I blared it during homeroom announcements while the principal was getting head from his assistant. That may or may not have to do with me slipping a little something into his coffee. Anyways, Mike the Fucker knew better than to retaliate and just licked his wounds like the puppy he is and the principal hasn't figured out who helped him get into the mood that day. So glad Charlie had Viagra just laying around. If you had the opportunity to crush dickhead's Mike's ego, wouldn't you? Don't tell me otherwise. I try not to have regrets in life. And to wonder why and how often Charlie needed Viagra.

When I wasn't working, Ang and I hung out. Like, a lot. We'd go to the beach to tan (which never seemed to work) and drink at the clubs, of course to dance and drink, parties to socialize and drink…do you see the pattern? I can't even imagine how many brain cells died that summer. Scary.

When summer was over, we went back to finish up our senior year, but it was more like complete our senior slide. Our grades were good enough to pass. Yeah, not too ambitious for a high GPA. It's not that we're stupid or couldn't achieve 4.0's. It was the stupid drama in our lives along with being bored out of our minds in our classes. They just didn't challenge us enough and we tuned it all out. Authority, responsibility and dependability. Sad, but true. I'm surprised, to this day, that we made it to the graduation ceremony. Granted, we were plastered and laughed like hyenas the whole time but, the important thing was that we made it. Hey, at least we didn't strip like Jessica & Lauren the slut duo! I heard it was a double dare, though. Sucked to be them. I'd always wondered what fucking dare they refused in the first place to have to do that. Good times. I hope someone caught that for the yearbook. Can you imagine seeing that after 20 years and trying to explain it to your kids?

So, we barely graduated and made our way to good ol' community college. After a couple courses, I had absolutely no desire to go back. Not only was it a waste of money, I was bored. Again. I figured college courses would be harder and more challenging but nope. Ang was in the same boat. We were annoyed at the catch 22 we'd created for ourselves. If we had done better in high school, then we would've gone to a college that would've challenged us more. Duh. Well, sucks to be us. I think Ang did a lot better in high school than she told me. She went downhill after her parents' deaths and was a straight-A student before that.

I came up with the band as a way to at least try something new. I'd been playing guitar since I was 14 when Phil taught me how to play. I'd arrived in Phoenix and, apart from taking care of mommy dearest, that's what I filled my time with – playing guitar and writing songs.

I began to write not only songs but in my diary, too. I figured I can always go back to my journal entries and find something to sing about. Yes, Bonnie Raitt is an awesome musician.

But, I digress.

It's actually funny how Ang & I came up with the band's name. Didn't I tell you our name? Shit, I'm really off focus today. Our name is "Miss'eds." As in, missed education. Hey, I thought it was funny at the time and I even fell off the barstool laughing! Ok granted we were drunk, no surprise there. Still, it's catchy. I think someday, Ang and I have to learn to eat while drinking. The hangovers fucking suck.

We were going to have school uniforms as the band's wardrobe but the boys nixed that idea pretty quickly. Fucking band meetings. They were not receptive to looking like naughty schoolgirls. At. All. Totally knocked a great idea. I even drew up a cool uniform, halter top, plaid skort and thigh highs with Mary Jane shoes. Bastards. Men dressed as women and wore makeup in the 80s all the time. How do I know? I watched the 80s channel religiously. It's my favorite decade ever.

So, grunge was the next idea. They played me rock, paper scissors for it. I was sooo close. Damnit. Well, at least it wasn't a rapper or country theme. I would've had to leave the band at that point. No offense to rap and country singers, but no way I would do it. It's not my thing. At. All.

That reminds me of a show I saw with Ang while we were drunk at her place.

We watched a show called American Idol where a bunch of talented and not so talented people sing their hearts out, only to be squashed down by an asshole called Simon Cowell or Crowen or something. Anyways, the guy's a total dickhead but the shit that comes out of him is hilarious. I'd have to beat him with a stick if he ever talked to me like that, though.

Back to my point. So we were watching the show as people sang for them at audition time. This old Black guy comes on and at first I think, he's a glutton for punishment and will probably run screaming and crying. Old people can't take criticism, whether it's constructive or not. So the guy starts singing and fucking dancing.

Pants on the ground!
Pants on the ground!
Lookin' like a fool with your pants on the ground!

He kept repeating these lyrics over and over and we were just laughing our asses off. I don't know if it was really funny because we were drunk or not but damn…maybe we should watch this show more often?

Simon didn't disappoint. He asks the guy to stop dancing & singing. "How old are you?"

"64." Holy shit! I had a brand new level of respect for the guy. That takes some serious guts to knock the idiots that wear their pants at the bottom of their butt, belted into place, while being that old on national television. Lord knows there is no way in hell I'd do it, as well as the majority of the rest of America. Then again, I'm from a rinky dink small ass town of Forks, so what do I know?

So, unfortunately, the guy was outside of age rules, who totally sucked ass because he was totally entertaining as fuck. I hope he gets on YouTube and makes a shitload of money and becomes famous.

As I came out of my memory, I looked around and people are still fighting.

So, now you know why I said part of the story is dark.