And The Band Comes.

Part 1

I was woken by the sound of my alarm clock blaring. Ergh. School. I thought to myself. Switching off the shrieking clock, I sat up, slowly. It was the first day at my new school in California, after moving  from England a few months before, and I was not looking forward to it. All the bitches and douchebags and... well, you get the point; I was gonna hate this year. I dragged myself from my bed and stretched my body. Glancing at the mirror, I saw the awful wreck that reflected back at me. Damn, my hair was awful. The medium-length, dyed-black locks stuck up at all angles and my brown eyes had dark circles surrounding them. I sighed and forced myself to the bathrom. Turning on the shower, I undressed and hopped into the warm water. I scrubbed my body and hair, until I was squeaky clean. It felt good to be washed. I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. As I wandered back into my bedroom, I grabbed my clothes from my wardrobe. Black skinny jeans, with a red and black checkered shirt. My mum called my name, from downstairs. 

"Jayme!" She shouted.

"Yeah?" I called back.

"Oh. You're up!"

"No shit!"

"I was wondering if you wanted some breakfast."

"Erm... no thanks. I'm good."

"Okay..." She trailed off.

I was going to be the new British girl at my new school. Great. Being the new kid was always hard, but I was kinda glad I had a new start. My old life back in England was pretty shit, except my friends. I'm gonna miss them. I have no friends over here. No one. I looked back at my alarm clock. 8:15am. Half an hour until I need to get the bus. Oh God! Yanking a brush through my hair, I switched my hairdryer on. I was 16, so I was going into my 'Junior' year, and I was petrified. I covered my face in foundation and started to apply black eyeliner. When my eyes were dark enough, I proceeded to put in my black lip ring. My new school wasn't really strict about jewelery or clothes; they said that 'students were aloud to express themselves, as long as it didn't compromise other students' learning', so I was pretty happy with that. I jerked my black Converse onto my feet and bounced downstairs. In my house lived: me, my mum and older brother, Elliot. I'd never known my father, he left before I was born, but I didn't care. Elliot was the kind of shy guy. He was tall, slightly muscular, but not totally ripped; he had dark brown hair, which swished across his face a bit and light, grey eyes, like every boy in my family. He was 18 and an okay-looking guy, but I didn't really see much of him lately; He would just stay in his room most of the time. Typical boy.

As I bound my way into the living room, which was still stacked with boxes, I looked at my locket that my Grandma gave me, before she died, and placed it around my neck. My Grandma got me into music; she introduced me to both bass guitar and piano, which I play. She made me who I am today; the person who wanted to be in a life-changing, record-breaking, world wide rock band- Like every other 16 year old girl. My Grandma was a huge influence in my life and, as she died, I slept. She was in hospital, ill, and I'd just got back from a trip with friends, so I was tired. I decided to sleep, rather than go to the hospital to see her, and she died that night. I never forgave myself for not being there. I loved her. She was my best friend and she understood me like nobody else. I sighed at the memories. Noticing in the mirror that the bus was to come in 5 minutes, I ran to grab my black, hoodie jacket, which had one of my favourite bands - Green Day- on it.

I loved rock music, especially Green Day, My Chemical Romance and All Time Low. Their songs, and more importantly, the lyrics to their songs, got me through some rough stuff. After my Grandma died, I got really depressed. Yes, I was only 12, but I tried to kill myself  twice and after the third time I thought about doing it, I listened to their music properly. I LISTENED to them and what they were singing was the thing that stopped me trying to kill myself for a third time. They saved my life.

I clutched my black and white checkered rucksack, throwing it over my shoulder. Time for Hell... I mean, school.