Disclaimer: I don't own school of rock, I don't think I need tell you this,
that's why its called fanFICTION, enjoy ~Plaid
Getting on with life Chapter 1
"MOM!" I ran down the stairs as fast as I could, tripping and falling down the last few. This can't be happening to me! "MOM!" I skidded to a halt in the doorway to the dinning room. She was sitting at the table holding a paper in her hand.
"Freddy I think we need to talk about this-"
"Mom where are my DRUMS!" She scowled.
"Do not speak to me in that tone young man, C's and D's?" I slammed my fists on the table.
"I want them back where are they?!" she didn't answer me, only kept talking.
"Ever since you joined that band your grades have dropped, I do not want to take away your drum set, but I think that is the only way to get you to focus on school work."
She didn't seem to understand what those drums meant to me. Ever since I started playing a couple years ago, it was the first time I had felt like I fit in at Horace Green. The first time I had ever had any real friends. She was taking away my self-expression.
"Once your grades get back up you can have them back."
I turned and stomped out of the room infuriated. Out of habit I went up to my room and over to where my drum set had been. I took deep breaths to try and calm down. This was the bad attitude and hot temper that had come to be associated with me. Mainly because when I play, I put my feelings into it and I'm usually ticked.
"Until I get my grades up huh."
I flopped down on my bed and scowled at my Sex Pistols Poster. "Yeah right." I heard footsteps on the stairs, then a knock. Before I could say anything it was pushed open.
"What is this I hear about you talking back to your mother?" I sighed. Why did she have to tell him? Now it would be hell for me.
"it was nothing okay, it wasn't my fault, she took away my drums and-" before I could finish he slapped me across me face. I stood where I was, determined not to look weak.
"That's no excuse!" He grabbed my arm, my instincts told me to pull away, but if I just stuck it out and took it, it would be over sooner. He continued to yell at me and hit me for the next few minutes. I remained silent.
"Next time think about what say, before you say it."
I was still standing in the same place, still fuming and silent. When he was gone I grabbed a picture that was sitting next to my bed and chucked it at the door. This would usually be a great time to bang the crap out of my drums, but obviously I CAN'T! I put in one of my CD's and blared it.
"Better pick up the glass before I get in trouble again." I Mumbled and started to pick it up. I stared at the jagged shard of glass in my hand. I wondered what it would fell like to cut myself. I laughed yeah right I'm not that weak...and what reason do I have? Sure my mom took away my drums and my dad hits me, not like it's the first time he has. I tossed it in the garbage next to my dresser and started singing along to the Led Zepplin.
Getting on with life Chapter 1
"MOM!" I ran down the stairs as fast as I could, tripping and falling down the last few. This can't be happening to me! "MOM!" I skidded to a halt in the doorway to the dinning room. She was sitting at the table holding a paper in her hand.
"Freddy I think we need to talk about this-"
"Mom where are my DRUMS!" She scowled.
"Do not speak to me in that tone young man, C's and D's?" I slammed my fists on the table.
"I want them back where are they?!" she didn't answer me, only kept talking.
"Ever since you joined that band your grades have dropped, I do not want to take away your drum set, but I think that is the only way to get you to focus on school work."
She didn't seem to understand what those drums meant to me. Ever since I started playing a couple years ago, it was the first time I had felt like I fit in at Horace Green. The first time I had ever had any real friends. She was taking away my self-expression.
"Once your grades get back up you can have them back."
I turned and stomped out of the room infuriated. Out of habit I went up to my room and over to where my drum set had been. I took deep breaths to try and calm down. This was the bad attitude and hot temper that had come to be associated with me. Mainly because when I play, I put my feelings into it and I'm usually ticked.
"Until I get my grades up huh."
I flopped down on my bed and scowled at my Sex Pistols Poster. "Yeah right." I heard footsteps on the stairs, then a knock. Before I could say anything it was pushed open.
"What is this I hear about you talking back to your mother?" I sighed. Why did she have to tell him? Now it would be hell for me.
"it was nothing okay, it wasn't my fault, she took away my drums and-" before I could finish he slapped me across me face. I stood where I was, determined not to look weak.
"That's no excuse!" He grabbed my arm, my instincts told me to pull away, but if I just stuck it out and took it, it would be over sooner. He continued to yell at me and hit me for the next few minutes. I remained silent.
"Next time think about what say, before you say it."
I was still standing in the same place, still fuming and silent. When he was gone I grabbed a picture that was sitting next to my bed and chucked it at the door. This would usually be a great time to bang the crap out of my drums, but obviously I CAN'T! I put in one of my CD's and blared it.
"Better pick up the glass before I get in trouble again." I Mumbled and started to pick it up. I stared at the jagged shard of glass in my hand. I wondered what it would fell like to cut myself. I laughed yeah right I'm not that weak...and what reason do I have? Sure my mom took away my drums and my dad hits me, not like it's the first time he has. I tossed it in the garbage next to my dresser and started singing along to the Led Zepplin.