A/N: Revised and reposted with permission. I own the song. I wrote it. Nothing else.

Chapter 3

"I see the looks you shoot at me,
I hear all your suspicions,
He s one out of control boy,
He doesn t follow rules or traditions.

But I don t wanna take over Dad s business,
I just want to go to NYC.
I don t wanna get married and have six kids.
I m gonna be the greatest rocker you ll ever see.

And so you can take your rules,
And try to prove your suspicions.
I ve got my guitar, and my car.
Turn 18 and I ll be far away from your traditions.

Gonna get my fifteen minutes of fame,
Then I m gonna get fifteen more.
Gonna sign records deal, left and right.
And girls are gonna try and knock down my door.

Some how I ll make you all see,
Soon you ll be seeing my way,
New York City s the only place to be.
I m gonna let my music pave the way.

And so you can take your rules,
And try to prove your suspicions.
I ve got my guitar, and my car.
Turn 18 and I ll be far away from your traditions.

So, I ll be the bad boy in the leather jacket,
Just so you can point and stare.
So, spread the rumors, behind those hands,
Soon you ll get that I don t care.

I ll be the odd-one-out.
The son who doesn t take after Dad,
I ll be the first to escape this place,
And that s what you think is so bad.

And so you can take your rules,
And try to prove your suspicions.
I ve got my guitar, and my car.
Turn 18 and I ll be far away from your traditions.

Got my guitar, got my car,
Turn 18 and I ll be far.
I ll be on a stage, just wait and see,
I ll be rocking in NYC.

Got my guitar, got my car,
Turn 18 and I'll be far I ll be on a stage, just wait and see,
I ll be rocking in NYC."

The last chords of Roger's song faded out and I clapped enthusiastically. "Even better then last year when you played it for me," I said honestly.

"Well, I changed the notes in the beginning and then I changed this chord to the C chord and then I played it differently, I used..." Roger started to explain all the technical music mumbo-jumbo, that I had no hopes of understanding.

"Um, Rog-, you totally lost me." I said, and he laughed, "But it's still good." I checked my watch, "Shit, Roger, if I don t leave now, I ll be very late for dinner." I stood and made my way to the door.

"I still don t understand why you can t just stay here for dinner," Roger complained.

I had one foot out the door, but I turned back to tell Roger, "I just can't. My dad would never agree to it."

"Bye Marky!" he called out after me.

"Don't call me that!" I shouted back.

I slid into my seat at exactly 7:01. My sister Cindy, age nineteen, was smirking at my lateness. My father glared at me, "You're late Mark, and you know what that means right?" I nodded and hung my head.

"Answer me, and look me in the eye." My father said, angrier this time, "You know what this means right?"

"Dear, he's only one minute late why don't you let him off the hook this time, Tony?" My mother begged.

"Shut up." He told her, and I closed my eyes, but still heard the crack of my father's hand slapping my mother's face.

"Answer me, and look me in the eye." My father repeated, now thoroughly pissed, "You know what this means right?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, forcing myself to look up and into my fathers cold grey eyes.

"What does being late mean Mark?" he growled.

"Being late means that I am to go to bed without supper, sir," I stated, trying not to blink.

"That s right, so get upstairs, you good-for-nothing kid." My father slurred, his beer already half gone, while two empties sat beside him. "Get out of my sight."

I pushed my chair back, gently, and stood quickly heading for the stairs, as I passed my father he stuck his foot out and tripped me, cause me to fall flat on my face, and then he kicked me in the back, his steel toed boots hitting me just below my right shoulder blade. I bit my lip, forcing myself not to cry, knowing that if I did, it would get worse. So, I scampered up as quickly as possible, nearly running for the comfort of my room.

Roger hummed a tune to a song that had been forming in his head for the past few days, as he set the table. His mother had called from the kitchen and said that dinner would be ready in a few moments, and so he had set out the two dishes and the silverware that went with it. He then sat in his seat waiting for his food. His stomach growled. He laughed at it, and looked at the empty chair across from him; he kept the chair there in case one day Mark decided to stay.

Roger had known Mark for over a year and never once had they shared a dinner. Roger knew that Mark s father was strict, but he didn t think that dinner at a friend's house every once in awhile, was a ridiculous thing to ask for. Roger was thankful that his mom was fairly okay with things like that, as long as she knew where Roger was, she really didn t mind.

Roger s mother came out with the food, and served Roger and herself, and they enjoyed a quiet dinner. Roger s thoughts drifted in and out of his head, everything from homework to girls, to guitar. He chewed quietly, then thanked his mom, kissed her goodnight and went to work some more on that song that had been buzzing around his head.

The next day, I was late for school, something that rarely happens to me, so I didn t see Roger until lunch. He was sitting at our usual table his lunch bought already, as I unpacked my brown bag.

"Hey, where were you this morning?" Rog asked.

"Slept in," I lied. Roger raised his eyebrow, he didn t believe me. Mostly because he knew I was an overly happy early riser and morning person. When I stopped to pick him up from his house to walk to school most days, I was bright-eyed and smiling, while he rubbed sleep out of his eyes, grimaced and yawned.

"It happens to the best of us." He said, deciding to let it pass.

"Rog, you'd sleep 'til noon every day, if I didn't show up at your door at 7," I retorted.

"I didn't today." He commented.

"Did your mom wake you up?" I asked quizzically.

"Yeah," he admitted, "15 minutes late, I had to run to get here on time."

I laughed, "See?"

"Shut up, Marky!" Roger said, playfully slapping me on the back.

I cringed and Roger saw it, his face going stony. "Sorry, kid, did I hurt you?" Roger always reverted back to calling me kid, when he was worried about me, even though technically I was older than him.

"Yeah um, fell yesterday running home from your house." I lied again, my fingers tapping the table nervously.

"Stop lying to me!" Roger exclaimed suddenly, hitting me again, this time hard and on purpose.

Tears came to my eyes at he punched the big purplish-black bruise that was covered by my striped sweater. "Ouch!" I spat angrily. "Don' t do that!" I complained, moving away from him.

"Marky who?" he asked, simply. He pulled me down, gently, onto the bench beside him. I looked Roger in the eye, after wiping mine on my sleeve, "Rog -for my sake please-" I paused, "I fell."

"Okay, Marky." He said. You fell. He slung one arm around my shoulder, and spoke in a soft voice, "Sorry, kid."

"It's alright." I said, and then thought about how to change the subject, "You going to the Halloween Dance?" I asked.

"Why?" Roger questioned, raising his eyebrow, "Do you want to be my date?" he laughed.

"No. No. No." I stated.

"Damn, guess I ll have to ask another girl "

"HEY!" I protested, "I'm not a girl."

"Sure, that s what they all say." Roger teased.

"You never actually answered my original question." I reminded him.

"Oh, I dunno yet, don't want to go without a date," he replied, running a hand through his gelled and spiked hair.

"So just ask any girl. In fact, ask the next girl who passes. I bet you five bucks that she'll say yes." I dared, foolishly.

"Ask the very next girl who passes?" Roger asked, and I nodded, "You're so on."

Just then, our elderly secretary Mrs. Sinclair walked passed, and Roger burst out laughing. "You said next girl, right?" he asked, and then without waiting for me to answer, he stood, hopped over the table and tapped Mrs. Sinclair on the shoulder, "Hello, Mrs. Sinclair." Roger said, smiling like a fool.

"Hello, Roger, dear, I do hope you re not in trouble again. "She replied, a small grin gracing her white-haired, wrinkly face. Roger had been sent to the office twice this month already, and had been suspended for smoking in the boys room last year.

"Oh no, Mrs. Sinclair, I just wanted to ask you a question." Roger stated, grinning wider now.

"Of course dear, what question would that be?" Mrs. Sinclair asked sincerely.

"Will you go to the Halloween Dance with me?" Roger said, never breaking his facade.

Just then the bell rang, and Roger grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the cafeteria and towards the gym, where our next class was. "She never actually said no, Roger" I told him, as we entered the gym after getting changed.

"Ha, like she would've said yes." Roger snickered, "You owe me five bucks."

"Rog, you owe me 50 from last year want me to knock of some of that?" I told him, it was true, Roger was constantly borrowing five or ten bucks, and never giving it back.

"Nah, you ll get that back when we're famous, I want the cold hard cash." He told me.
I sighed and handed him a five dollar bill. "Some things never change, huh Rog?"

"Yup, like today Marky, I m going whoop your ass at dodge ball, as usual."

R&R