It Ends Tonight

I can't explain myself at all.

~ All American Rejects

“Joey, come on!” Madison whined heavily, laying a perfectly manicured hand onto my bare arm. I cringed at her stupid nickname for me.

Turning around, I faced her with a frown on my face.

I really don't know why I was friends with this girl. She was the exact opposite of me, and we had nothing truly in common, besides the fact had lived beside each other for seventeen years. Maybe I had felt obligated to become her friend when we were still in diapers. Madison (she refused to respond to Maddy, as it was not 'mature enough') and I had been friends – if you could call it that – since we were four, and now I really have no clue as to why I still hung around her.

Her sleek, dark brown (dyed from its natural black) framed her features perfectly, and mascara-enhanced lashes surrounded her hazel eyes. To be honest, she had the perfect face, and perfect body. Cheerleading was her main hobby (I refuse to call it a sport), right along with getting her nails done, shopping, and boy-hopping (that, however, I call a sport).

Yes, I was 'bestfriends' with a shallow, perky bitch. It's not my fault; I blame my father.

When I was just a young girl, my father had all but forced Madison and I together. Her father was, in fact, a rather prestigious business man (owner of several corporations, including the one building the resort in Minett), and I'm sure my father saw it as a way to climb the social ladder. Oh, yes; he's the most notorious social climbers in our town, and everyone knew it, but they chose to overlook it.

My mother, on the other hand, could care less. Andrea Anderson didn't, in a sense, give a damn. In truth, I'm sure my mom would rather curl up on the couch a catch the latest episode of House, or read a new novel she'd picked up at the second-hand book store, then be dragged to one of those parties.

I'm sure she'd rather chop off her hair (and she loves her hair) than go to one.

I sighed, leaning back against the nearest locker, clutching my binder in front of my for support.

“Madison, I don't really want to, though,” I mumbled, watching as I watched my long length bright blonde hair slide forward.

For some reason, I'd always hated my hair. It just had never fit me. And I hated the style of it, which my father had chosen, of course. He did whatever he wanted to me, if it fit with Madison. One time, in the middle of ninth grade, she decided to get this short, choppy layered look that her favourite actress had. It, of course, was altered slightly to look absolutely stunning on her. When my father found out about it, he, himself, chopped off all my hair, because the stylist she went ntoo was too expensive.

I looked like an elf for three months, until Madison got extensions.

“Joey, please!” she whined again, stomping her foot. I winced again at the increasingly annoying nickname. Honestly, was Jolene so hard to say?

“Madison, I don't really want to, though. It's just a party; why can't you take Kelsey or Melanie or someone?” I asked harshly, pushing my hair out of my eyes as I watched her pout. Her red painted lips stuck out and she crossed her arms over her ample chest. Stupid water bra...

“Because they can't make it tonight, and daddy won't let me go without someone. You know I wouldn't ask you for this unless it was really important!” Yeah, right; important? I think not.

But, when I thought it over, if I didn't say that I would go, she would only hold it against me for the next four months.

“Please?” she all but whimpered, her large, hazel eyes pleading. I sighed, knowing that if I didn`t say yes, I`d be forced to live with her whining at me for the rest of the month. And really, her begging was pathetic, but it was really getting to me now. Besides, if I didn't go out with her, would she complain to her father, who, in turn, would tell my own of what happened?

I sighed. “Fine, I'll go. But only if I can stay out of sight,” I added, watching her as she smirked. That was probably her plan all along.

“Okay,” she agreed with a slightly nod of her head. “I'll see you at seven!” With that, she turned on her heel (Dion gold flats, no less), and flounced (and I do mean flounce) down the hall. She stopped right before she turned the corner and faced me. “Bye-bye, Joey!”

I cringed and watched as she skipped happily down the hall, the last thing to be in sight was her long hair.

“...it's Jolene,” I whispered softly, watching the abandoned hallway for nothing. I began to realize she wasn't coming back, and I leaned against the cold, grey locker. Sighing, I shook my head and my blonde hair fell forward, into my eyes. I attempted to toss it back, but it only slid right back into place.

I slipped onto the floor, holding my binder to my chest.

I'm not sure how my life came to this. I don't...remember...what happened to make me like this. I let people push me around constantly, whether it be my father, or Madison. I don't do anything that I love anymore, either. Over the past few months, I'd been pushed into things that they wanted me to do, or be, but I never did anything I wanted.

When was the last time I actually went to the studio? A month ago? Gosh, it was such a long time not to dance, especially when I love it so much.

And what about going to my favourite used book store on main street? The last time I'd been there had been March break, and that was to search for a new romance novel, since I'd finished the last one.

I was seventeen (eighteen in October), a senior, and yet I didn't have any control in my own life. I wasn't allowed out past nine (as if I went anywhere), I couldn't do anything that I wanted, let alone voice that opinion.

My eye glanced down at my nails, which already had chips in the blood red paint, and were uneven from playing volleyball in gym. I don't understand why my father insists I do stuff like this. When I was eight, he bought me a gym membership. A gym membership! What the heck was I supposed to do with that?

But then again, if I weren't left alone like most of the time, I'd never find time to do the things I wanted to do so badly.

I want to dance. I don't know how, considering the likeliness of my father allowing me to go to a dance academy are slim to none. But it's the one thing in the world that would make me truly happy, especially if I could do it for a living. There's just this thing about dancing that makes me so happy, the thrill of moving my body to the sounds that make music.

Sighing, I heard the bell ring and I watched students spill into the halls from the classrooms.

As usual, they ignored me and went about their lives without another thought about me.

Typical.

I'm not sure how, but the music blaring at this party would have been loud enough to wake the dead. As highly unlikely as that was, I had no doubt in my mind it's possible.

“Uhm, Madison...?” My words were forgotten as she sighed heavily and began to drag me towards the front entrance. I gaped at the amount of smokers taking drags from their cancer sticks, exhaling into the innocent clean air.

“Madison?” I tried again, only to have her bounce on her pumps(I'm not sure how she managed this) away from me. I watched as she slyly made her way through groupings of people, momentarily pressing her body flush against a tall blond, who instantly turned around to follow her into the throng of people.

Well, I guess that means I'm all alone.

I tugged on the hem of my purple t-shirt, suddenly wishing I hadn't thrown on the first thing I'd seen. My current attire consisted of a pair of grey sweats (although fairly new, they were sweats, non the less), a purple and black striped t-shirt and a pair of black, ankle Emu's. Comfortable, yes. However, I didn't even stand a chance against these girls.

I knew for a fact that I stuck out, what with all the girls and their skin tight, low riding jeans, or their short, short skirts. I was like a timid mouse in the middle of a crowd of hungry lioness'.

Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I hunched over and tried my hardest to discreetly make my way through the crowds, who were busy grinding against each other, or talking while standing way too close to each other as they did so. My hair slid over my shoulder in it's ponytail, and I begrudgingly tugged it out of the confines of its elastic. I tossed back my hair, before looking back down at the ground. As I did so, my hair slid over both shoulders.

Huffing, I searched for the nearest door, hoping to find an room to confine myself until this stupid thing was over. Groping for the handle, I swiftly turned the doorknob and stumbled into the room. To anyone behind me, it might have looked like I were drunk.

Apparently, the room that I'd found had been the laundry room. Joys of joys.

Hopping onto the dryer, I swung my legs back and forth, effectively kicking the machine with my heels. I knew that I'd be waiting in this foreign room for awhile, so I dug into the pocket of my sweats, pulling out the iPod touch my father had insisted I get. I didn't really see the point in it, but I did love it.

Flipping the little button thing, I started flipping through the applications until I came to my media player.

In English (my absolute favourite subject), we'd been doing The Shawshank Redemption. Yes, not the most appropriate for a school, but this was grade twelve academic English, and that meant that we learned touchier subjects. So far, we'd just started talking about the novella, but we hadn't actually read it. Yet, in grade nine I read the novella, and watched the Academy nominated movie, which had turned out to be one of my favourites. (There was obviously something wrong with me if my favourite movies consisted of Disney and jail flicks.)

And, since we'd be talking about it tomorrow in class, I thought I might as well get on with watching it. Not really a burden, considering I watch it about once a week. I'd memorized it already, which shows just how much time I have on my hands.

I was almost to the part where Red and the others take bets when the door to the room burst open.

My body instantly jerked upwards, and I felt every muscle in my body tighten. Letting out a yelp, I ripped the earphones from my ears and snapped my head up to the door, my eyes wide.

I think that was my first mistake. Or was it the right thing to do? Looking back, I'm still not sure.

Standing in the doorway stood the scariest and most handsome man (he was definitely not a boy) I'd seen in my life.

He was tall, almost six foot, maybe. He had a lanky like body, but there was obvious muscle press up against his tight black t-shirt. He was wearing those skinny jeans that aren't exactly skinny, but aren't baggy, and are too tight to be classified as straight cut. Black skate board shoes adorned his feet.

A white and red checkered belt held up his pants, with a Green Day grenade belt buckle hanging off the front. His black t-shirt had a red anarchoy symbol emblazed on the right side. He was wearing a simple silver chain around his neck.

He had the five o'clock shadow going on, and he was, in Madison's terms, rockin' it. He had firm looking lips, and I had the oddest urge to run my tongue along them. His nose was straight...sorta. it had a slight crook in it, as if it had been broken.

His eyes, it was his eyes that got me. They were that darkest shade of brown, almost matching his black hair, and they held a tumble of emotions. He looked torn at the seams, with a dark bitterness touching him.

I looked down in embarassment, before my eyes flicked up to him once more. He was doing the same thing I was doing. Looking me over, watching my every movement with precision. I bit down on my lower lip, my eyes moving back down to the floor, unable to conjure up the words I needed.

It was in these moments that I became so facsinated by him, so curious to him. He was obviously much older than myself, at least twenty-four, if not older.

But it was when he spoke that I fell straight into the spell he cast over me.

"Who are you?"

A/N Yes, I know I should be updating my other stories, but I had this one done so I'm throwing this on.

Anyways, I might not be updating for awhile. Today, after a long fight with cancer, a close friend of mine, Simon, his mother passed away, around eleven this morning. I'm going to be with him for a while, helping him through this. So heads up, updates might not come for a long time. In fact, this is why no stories have been updated recently.

Luv's and prayers-for-Simon,

Jilli.