The Adventure of Journal Gal and The Heartwreckers

Prologue

The Photographer's Regret

Everyone has those days you regret everything. When you feel a hole in your chest; because, the regret eats away at your skin and sole like an acid. When the whole world seems to be trying to get you to crack, make you feel like a joke.

Well that's how I feel right now.

I know firsthand that it sucks to do things you regret. What I regret though is strange to the average person though. I didn't ask my crush out on a date for him to say no. I also didn't make a fool of myself in front of a bunch of people. What I did was write songs showing my deepest feeling and thoughts.

I loved what I did and kept every song I ever wrote in a journal, which I took everywhere. Why I don't know, but I see now how big of a mistake it is. Was. See I lost my journal three hours, twenty two minutes, and thirty-seven seconds ago, and have been searching frantically for it ever since.

You would not believe how hard it is to find a book in a school full of bratty, privileged, rich kids that take one look at you and they judge you. I would love to say I'm not wearing one of the tight, itchy, uncomfortable uniforms, but the unbelievable urge to take this thing off and throw on a Nirvana band tee and some dark wash jeans with my trusty pair of vans begs to differ. I can't complain though, I was the one who put myself into this hell hole of a school. I was the one who strived to get a scholarship to this school, but it was only because of the music program.

The music program here is worth all the drama, weird looks, and mean comments though. I love music with a passion, but I can sadly not do the one thing I wish I could do. Sing. I can play piano, flute, guitar, and drums, not a lot compared to the other people in my band class, but a huge accomplishment for me and my unnatural talent of music. See, I was not naturally good at music, I had to work really really hard to get where I am now, but I do not regret a single second of it. But one of the many ups about studying music by myself is that I know a ton about how music is put together, so it's easier to write my own music.

Which brings me back to my very frustrating task at hand, trying to find my life's work in a huge school with kids giving me very strange looks for looking under desk and running around like a mad woman. Yes, I do admit I look like a total fool, but I really don't care at the moment. I run down the now empty hallways to the band room to check it for my book. As I'm running I see a stray teacher in the hall and duck behind a wall holding my breath as she walks by. Did I mention that I've been skipping my classes all morning? Oppsy.

I looked around the wall to see that the teacher turn the corner towards he teacher's lounge. Wonder what she's going to do there, probably just going to get some coffee or other teacher stuff. I turn around and run quietly down the hall way towards my destination. I see the door and slow down to a walking speed before I get close to the door.

 I hear the distinct sound of a guitar from inside the room so I peer into the window on the outside of the door. I see five guys in the room; four are gathered around the guy in the middle of their half circle playing.

The song sounds familiar, but I can't tell what song it is just yet. I hum along as the song begins and I find myself putting my ear up to the door trying to hear the music better, trying to figure out what the song was. I hear one of the guys start to sing, and I smile a little, at the sound of the mystery guy's voice. It was like a mix of warm vanilla and velvet; I couldn't believe the sound was real. I closed my eyes and listened to the hum of a voice I heard and the soothing sound of the guitar. I soon find myself softly singing the words, even though my voice sounds a little raspy, I sing.

"-even half way across the world, halfway across the world, halfway across the world oh, halfway across the wor-" I choke on my words. That song, I wrote it a long time ago. It is for my best friend, Iz, it is about how I felt after I moved, and how I missed having a friend like her to rely on. I still miss her so much, and she will always have a spot in my heart with her name on it.

I feel a rush of anger flow through me, they have no right to read that, let alone play it for everyone to hear. I yank open the door and storm in. All the guys turn to me, and I notice that they all have the classic punk look with pierced ears, eyebrows, and mouths. I don't pay attention to the four guys that were in the semi-circle, my pray is the wide eyed guy in the chair that is starting to stand up.

 The guy has striking blue eyes and dark brown hair that is messy and all over the place. He has a lip piercing and two hoops in one ear with a few studs in it. I would normally be too shy to talk to a guy like this, but I am too livid and embarrassed and a ton of other emotions I can't explain.

"What the f#ck is wrong with you! You can't read someone's journal, let alone to the world! I put everything I feel into those songs, and it's not for the amusement of some high school wanna-be-punk-band! Now give me my journal and never tell anyone about this!"

All the guys look scared and confused until the guy in the middle speaks up.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"Names Jade" I say as I grab my book and run out.

"I'm Ethan, in case you wanted to know!" Ethan yelled after me.

I didn't know this then, but that was the beginning of my best nightmare ever.