Author's note: It's been brought to my attention that some of my readers are bother by my "filler" chapters. So, in an effort to keep all my readers happy, this is the next filler that was planned, but instead of many details being covered in a short period, I'll focus on a couple major points.

Near the end of senior year, Roger found himself back in the recording studio, this with April be his side, instead of Saylinda. A fresh wave of melancholy washed over him, but he quickly shook it off. April smiled at him, and he grinned back, in spite of himself. He glanced around at the band. They nodded. "We're ready." the drummer, Luke, said. Roger nodded. "Good." He lifted his guitar, tuning it gently. After a long, agonizing search and some hard bargaining, Roger was able to track down another authentic Hendrix guitar. He left this one at Collins' house, normally, but had brought it today to help recreate the sounds of the band's first single, which they were re-recording. April had spent more than a week listening to the song over and over again, learning the lyrics, and now, the band was in the studio, warming up. April shot Roger another smile, nodding, and Roger signaled the producers. "We're ready. Start recording." The producer nodded, and the "recording" light came on. Roger nodded to the band. "One, two three four." He started playing the opening chords, while April bounced in rhythm, waiting for the lyrics to start. Roger nodded to her, and she began to sing.

I know you want to do it,

to fit me in your little box.

You think you know me.

You don't

You try to talk about me,

you use such awful words

druggie, junkie bitch and slut,

now that's not cool

You don't know a goddamn thing

I'm not a puppet on a string

to be used

for your lies

I'm just me

I can't be

everything you want me to be

And I don't wanna be

anything, anything

but me.

I'm not a box, I don't fit

inside, your perfect lines

You yell at me when I'm out late, I try,

but you don't buy my alibis.

So baby here's my two weeks notice,

I'm jumping ship, on my own

I'm not a puppet on a string

to be used, for your lies

I'm just me

I can't be

everything, you want me to be

and I don't wanna be

anything, anything, but me.

Baby you know you, were my biggest mistake,

I still can't believe the risks you made me take

Baby, you ruined my life, my life revolved around you

Now, I'm heading out, I'm heading, I'm heading out without you!

I'm just me,

I can't be

everything (anything) you want me to be

and I don't wanna be

anything, anything, anything

I'm just me

I can't be

anything you want me to be

and I don't wanna be

anything, anything

anything but me!

I know you want to do it

to fit me in your little box

But I don't fit anymore…

Roger played the final guitar riff, and the song ended. The light went off, and the producer's voice crackled over the speaker. "Nice job, guys. Here's the tape of the recording. It should be out soon." Roger nodded, grinning, and pulled April into his arms. "You were wonderful, baby. The song has never sounded so good." April smiled. "Sure it has. You've just never heard me sing it before." Roger grinned. "You're absolutely right. You now what? To celebrate, I'm taking you out to dinner." April laughed. "Don't you have a curfew?" Roger shrugged. "So I'll call Charlene on the way. She'll understand."

A few weeks later, "Anything" was back on the charts. Roger set a date to record an album, for early in their senior year, and arranged for a release of their single onto an album. After another particularly tense episode in the Davis household, this one involving thirty stitches on Roger's part, and a trip to family counseling, Roger and his mother finally made time to sit down and talk. The first time, Roger confessed to his mother how she made him feel. "Half the time, I'm scared to even come home at night," he explained, "because I don't know if you've been drinking, or doing some drug or other, and I don't know what's going to happen. Especially after the last time, I'm afraid to be around you. I don't know what you're going to do anymore. The last time, you destroyed my guitar. The next time, who knows?" Charlene nodded. "I've been trying, Roger. I know my behavior scares you, and I'm doing my best. The problem is, I can't go into rehab. If I do, the state will probably take you away from me. All I really want is to be able to be your mother. I know I've never been the best mother, and you'll probably be better off in foster care, or even with Luanne- Mrs. Cohen- but I want to try to be your mother." Roger thought for a moment. "Well, maybe, if you admit that you have a problem, and enter rehab of your own free will, the state will go easier on you. I can go stay with Mark or Collins while you're gone. I'll be eighteen in three months, so I think that might help you out a bit. I can choose where I live when I'm eighteen." Charlene nodded. "You do have a point. Well, alright, let's try it. I'll go call the rehab center, and you go call Collins or Mark and see if you can stay with them."

With that bright note, the school year ended. Roger was living at Mark's again, but was actually kind of looking forward to moving back in with Charlene. Mark's family decided not to take the annual vacation this year, but sent Mark, Roger, April and Maureen to New Orleans for a month. Once they got back, Charlene had gotten out of rehab, and Roger moved back in with her, ready to give her a second chance. Senior year was ready to start with a bang. Quite literally, a bang.