The Band Next Door (COMPLETED) [UNDER EDITING]

1; That's not even the best part

Barbara palvin as Amanda Singer

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I groaned and rolled over, shoving my pillow to my head. Even through the soft fabric, the noise was still clear as a bell. Giving up, I hit my pillow on the alarm clock a few times, hoping to shut it up.

No such luck.

Groaning again, I sat up and dropped the clock on the ground. Finally hearing silence, I laid back down in bed. Closing my eyes, I drifted back into a light sleep.

BANG!

Opening my eyes, I flew straight out of bed. Falling onto my floor, I could hear my fathers footsteps coming up the stairs. Crap. Quickly untangling my feet from the sheets, I found a pair of dark skinny jeans and a baggy grey sweatshirt and started to get dressed.

He banged on my door three times. "Get up Amanda! Where the hell is my breakfast? Damn it, hurry up." He banged on my door again. As he walked away, he muttered, "You should have died in that accident. Better off dead than alive." His footsteps faded away.

Blinking tears out of my eyes, I finished pulling my sweatshirt on and ran downstairs. I quickly made some eggs and bacon for him, grabbing an apple and shoving it into my hood pocket.

He came downstairs and walked into the kitchen, looking livid. Grabbing my hair, he pushed me to the ground. Giving a swift kick to my stomach, he hollered, "You should have died," kick. "You're worthless," kick. "You don't do anything," kick. "You're better off dead than alive." With one final kick, he turned away and walked to the table.

I stayed on the floor for a few seconds, in case he came back for more. He didn't. Hauling myself up, I staggered out the door and started my way to school, thinking about the accident.

The four of us were in the car; my dad, mom, brother, and myself. We were driving to my grandmothers for Christmas. We were all a happy family, joking and laughing on the way. Out of nowhere, a drunk driver swerved into our lane, nailing the right side of our car. Needless to say, we all didn't make it to Christmas dinner that year. Mom died in the hospital a few days later. Damien, my younger brother, had a broken leg. My father had a broken arm and I had a broken arm and some fractured ribs. We all had cuts and bruises.

After mom died, my father started drinking. He would drink away the night and beat us. Me more than Damien. I usually took the beatings for him, so he wouldn't have to go to school bruised and bloody. Nobody cared in high school, but in preschool, that might raise suspicion.

Completing the twenty minute walk to school, I found a vacant bench and sat on it, grabbing my ribs as they flamed up with pain.

My one and only friend walked up and sat down with me. "Hey girl. Did you hear the news?" Claire said, giggling. She didn't know about the beatings. Nobody did.

I sighed. "No. What news?"

"There's this really hot dude moving in town with his rock band! And you haven't heard the best part!"

I rolled my eyes at her. She could be so oblivious sometimes. "What's the best part?"

She squealed. "They're moving in next to you!" She clapped her hands.

I sat there shocked, eyes wide open. No. Not the best part. "With his rock band?" I asked, scared of the answer.

"That's what I said! this is going to be so awesome."

No.

Claire must have saw the look on my face that said 'I'm going to die' because she poked my cheek and frowned. "Come on. This is going to be fun! A little change in boring Sterling Heights."

Change was right. I was going to change. Colors. Goodbye tan hello black and blue. This rock band was not a good change for my family.

"Let's go Amanda. Bell rang." Claire took my hand and dragged me to first hour.

I guess I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Amanda Singer. My mom died in a car crash and my dad is abusive. My brother is seven, living with my aunt, and is perfectly healthy, thanks to my over protectiveness. We live in Sterling Heights, Oregon. And the most important house rule is no music. Yeah, you read that right. No music. No singing or music of any kind. If my father hears music coming from anywhere in a fifty foot radius, you better be prepared to run. Or you will end up dead.

This rock band better have participated in track, for my sake and theirs.