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(I wrote this last year as my final exam for Creative Writing and I only got a few peoples feedback and I kind of want more. Anyway, enjoy!!)

Wasted Youth Can Be So Glamorous

Doing lines off a magazine with my friend’s face on the glossy cover has never been any funner. Is “funner” even a word? Who cares? I make my own rules and no one tells Kat Ghrolin what to do. I lay on Lennon’s couch, staring at the spinning ceiling. I grin widely and push a green strand of hair from my face. It’s nice to live in L.A. You make all the right friends and you get all the right drugs handed to you on a gold plate, only in my case, on a Rolling Stone magazine.

Lennon is a singer in a new punk rock band, KobainKonspiracy. They, apparently, were named off of Kurt Cobain and how some think he was murdered by Courtney Love. I actually got the down-low when I was Frances Cobain’s monthly blood, or boyfriend in other terms. But that’s a whole different story. This is about me. Not about that slut or her mother and the dead guy.

This is about me.

Back to Lennon. He’s 17, like me, but he got his foot in the door when he knocked up a famous singer’s supposedly goody-two-shoe’s daughter. I wish I had luck like him to sleep with the right girl like that. I sleep with someone, I get a chance of Herpes.

So you might be wondering why the hell I’m so special. I’ll tell you why. I am the spawn of god and an angel sent from the devil. I am your worst nightmare. Ok, I lied. I’m just a regular guy from a regular family. My grandparents weren’t apart of the Manson Family and my dad didn’t release a platinum album. Hell, my aunts or uncles are more average than me. They work at Target for god sake! But I’ve got a twist. I’m a club kid for the new generation. You may remember them from the 80’s. You know, that James St. James homo and all the weirdo kids that Gerardo Rivera had on his shows. They don’t even compare to me.

I’m a train wreck in a purple Goth dress with long blonde and green hair.

I’ve renamed myself Kat, with a K, Ghrolin. But I have good reasons for though! I’m sorry but when you where born with the name Frank Knox, you can not expect to be famous. No one wants to remember the name Frank. “Oh lookie! Frank’s wearing a bow tie and he‘s wearing old man diapers. How wonderful.” No. That will not fly. And besides, the name Kat is so cool. I wanted to be Cat, with a C, but come on, too expected and Cat Stevens isn’t cool like he used to be in 70’s. And the name Ghrolin screams rocker. Maybe it’s cause I stole it from Dave Ghrol (but he can kiss my a**.) We can share.

Back to modern time. So, I’m laying on Len’s leather couch staring at his ceiling. I can feel the couch spinning as I lay there. I close my blue eyes and grip my pink plaid skirt. I’m going to hurl but I must hold on. I shouldn’t have been hitting the drugs already. Lennon is going to be so mad at me. I had to wait for Meg to get here before I started to touch it.

Meg. Insert sigh here. How I love her. She was the one who got me into this world of glamour and fun. And she’s the only person I know who will give me her fathers credit card after knowing me for three hours. Her father is a famous director and her mother was Playboy Playmate of the Year once. Oddly enough, she isn’t good enough to be either. She’s not talented and if she didn’t have rich parents giving her money whenever she wanted it, she would work at Burger King and live in a shitty apartment downtown with rats and her two kids.

Meg not pretty at all. Her face is puffy all the time and she has the driest skin, yet she gets the biggest zits. She’s a little chunky, but in my eyes, she has the perfect body. But I guess in Hollywood, that’s a no-no. She is possibly the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen but she’s still one of my favorite ugly people of all time. I only hang out with the beautiful squad. So being normal is hideous to us. The best thing about her, though, is that she hasn’t let her parents money go to her head. Just her drug abuse.

I hear a loud knocking and I go to move. I see colors moving in front of my eyes. I lay back down. “Lennon!” I yell to my long haired blonde pal who is god-knows-where. “Someone’s at the door!”

I see a person move into the room in a towel and I see a wet head. I give a s**t faced grin and I begin to laugh hysterically. I have no clue why. It was something about that smile that just seemed so funny. I hear the door open and shut and I see people moving. I force myself to sit up and my hair is in my face. Aw. That means my hair fell out of the pigtail.

I see someone standing in front of me and I open my eyes as much as I can, which isn’t much. The person puts their hands on their waist. Ah. Must be Meggy. She tends to stand like that when she’s upset with me. I look up at her and slurp. I snicker and fall onto the armrest. She sighs and rubs her cheek. “What am I going to do with you, Katteroo?” she asks me. I look at her outfit. I roll my eyes as I see the fishnet pantyhose, combat boots, purple and ripped miniskirt, neon pink and dark purple tight t-shirt with a Stevie Nicks picture on the front. She has black wings and her bright blue hair with red tips is up in a messy ponytail and she has glowing horns on her head.

This would be a pretty awesome outfit. If she hadn’t worn it every weekend for a year.

I pat the couch and she gets the hint to sit down. She must have seen the white lines on the Rolling Stone magazine cause she let out a long sigh. I swear, it lasted for at least 20 minutes. Maybe it’s because I’m high. I sit up and I feel my drugs begin to wear off. Damn. I hate having such a drug tolerance. I look over at Meg and give her kissy lips. She pushes me away and rolls her eyes. “I hate when you get high before me,” she mutters. Oh, stop your whining, will you? I may love her, but I can not stand when she complains all the time. She must be on her period or something.

I look at her and I point to my head. “How’s my hair?” I ask her. I know it has to be falling out and I hope she gets the hint to put it back up for me. She rolls her green eyes and pulls me close and begins to fiddle with my hair. I hear footsteps coming into the room. Lennon must be done. Hurray. Now we can leave and I can go get more drugs. I can’t stand being sober. It bothers me. I need it to keep me busy. If I can’t be high, I tend to be quite self-destructive. My physiatrist says its because I’m a very sad person and no drug is going to help you in life. Just make it go away for an hour. ******** him. I’m a very happy boy. At least I feel like I am.

My pharmacist doesn’t understand why I need anti-depressants. He talks to me all the time and always says that I’m such a happy boy. But maybe its because I always get my prescription when I’m either A) hopped up on X or B)I just bought an half a million dollar golden bong. Or C) I just bought some really cute shoes.

As Meg’s throwing my hair back up, Lennon sits next to me on the armrest and wraps his arms around me. Well someone’s messed up. Lennon’s the biggest anti-gay person I know. But one of the biggest club kids I know, too. Go figure. The guy who hates same sex relationships goes to clubs loaded with them and his best friend is bisexual. I yawn and look down at my green and silver nails. I got them professionally done this afternoon! I was so excited about it, too. They turned out to be so cute! “So, who are we waiting on now?” I ask the blonde boy holding onto me.

He shrugs. “We’re going somewhere?” he asks. I push him off of me and he falls backwards onto the floor. Meg gets my pigtail perfect for me and I hop off the couch. “Ok. We have to go. My high is coming down quickly and I can NOT handle being sober longer than 5 minutes,” I growl and head towards the door. I may even be a bigger diva than Paris Hilton and Jennifer Lopez in the same body but I don’t care. If it’s not about me, then it doesn’t ******** matter.


***

In Club Bloc, I wander the huge room with the most overplayed techno songs playing on the speakers. I have to find JoJo before I blow my brains out. I’ve come down from my high on the way here. I push a skanky slut, who was throwing her breasts at me, out of my way and she falls to the floor. She screams but I can’t hear what she’s saying over the horrible music that’s all around me. This is the s**t I listen to on a nightly basis?! When I see a 6’5foot tall tyranny, I let out a sigh of relief. Vanessa should know where JoJo is. I push my way through the crowd to the tall transsexual. I look up to her and I smile. “Nessy! How are you?” I scream up to her.

The African American he-she looks down at me and her eyes widen before she bends down and gives me a hug. “Why hello, Katty! I’ve been fabulous,” she says in my ear. She kisses my ear and I grin at her. I may be smiling but deep down, I can’t stand her at all. I would love to kick her in her testicles (that she still hasn’t removed) and run off. She’s the most disgusting thing and she thinks she’s hot. Ha! I’m the wet dream of everyone. I’m the skinny, 5’9 bisexual boy that will go after anything if it puts out and, must I add, that I’m way hotter than anyone else in this club.

I lick my green glittery lips that I put on in the car ride over here and I let out a puff of air. “So, you seen JoJo anywhere?” I ask her, trying not to sound desperate. I’m not that kind of boy. I’m not the desperate kind. But I’m starting to feel a little desperate now. I can’t stand hearing all these peoples voices. They are so annoying. And if they don’t turn off that ******** techno song, I’m going to take a shotgun and shoot the DJ.

She pats my head and lets out an obnoxious laugh. “Joey got busted two nights ago,” My jaw hit’s the floor and I look at the black he-she in disbelief. What? You’re joking. He‘s the only one I get drugs from. I refuse to get it from anyone else. I don’t trust them. Too many horror stories about changing your dealer.

“He was selling to the wrong people, people he usually doesn’t sell to and it just so happened to be a kid of a parent who’s been cracking down on the drugs around here. He got busted with smack and rats out Joey. So he’s in the slammer. Sorry, doll,” she explains to me.

I nod slowly and I wave. “I’m going to go then. Bye, love,” I say and head away. The beat is pulsating and I can feel my brain just throb. I can’t take this. I look around and I see all these ridiculous outfits and I look around in disbelief. This is what I’ve been wasting my life on?! Oh my ******** god. I stand in the middle of the dance floor and look around the room. I hear my name from all around me and it sounds like they’re all whispering in my ear, but they can’t be cause it’s impossible to hear at a whisper level. I begin to feel like I’m spinning and I’m overwhelmed from the beat, the screams and the messed up people.

I shake my head and I scan the room. I’ve got to get out of here. I see Meg and Lennon shoving their tongues down each others throat in a corner and I head over to them. They need to take me home. Now. But on my way over, I run into Frances Cobain. Damn it. She’s going to want to chat. She screams in glee and hugs me. “Oh my gawd, it’s so good to see you,” she says in a preppy girl accent, her half open dull blue eyes locked on me. She kisses me fully and I can just taste the vomit and smoke in her mouth. I want to vomit myself tasting the girl. I push her off of me and she looks up at me, pushing brown hair from her face. “What’s wrong, Katteroo?” she asks, giving me the pouty lip that all the models give in pictures.

“Don’t call me that. That is not my name,” I tell the younger girl, my voice low. I hate that damn name now. ******** the name Kat. I want my normal name back. “My name is Frank. Not Kat.”

She raises an eyebrow and looks at me a little confused. “What’s gotten into you? You not taking yo-” I cut her off by pushing her away when I see that Meg is walking away from Lennon. I run to her, screaming her name. I stop screaming when it finally hits me that she can not hear my voice. I follow her to the girls bathroom and I walk inside, not caring.

The girls look at me and point at my skirt. “Oh, that’s cute,” a girl slurs to her friend who nods in agreement. I can’t help but feel a little proud of my little find. It’s one of my favorites.

Wait. Why did I come in here? Meg turns around and she jumps. “Kat! What are you doing?” she asks, laughing slightly.

“Look, I need to go. You need to take me home,” I tell her, holding onto her shoulders.

She gives me the same confused look Frances had given me not 3 minutes ago. What is so ******** hard to understand that I don’t want to be here?! She tilts her blue head to the side and blows a red tip of hair from her face. “Were not leaving any time soon. What is the problem anyway?” she asks,

What is my problem? Maybe the fact that I notice that now that I’m sober that this club scene is not what it’s cracked up to be. That the whole scene is a god damn joke. I begin to twirl my hair that’s in on of my pigtails and I bite my lower lip, a little shocked that this is actually flowing through my brain.

“I think I had an epiphany.”

Meg looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Kat, I love you to death and I’d die for you but please explain what the hell your going on about,” she tells me, apparently lost on what the hell I’m babbling about.

“I can if you just LEAVE with me,” I tell her. I grab her shoulders and look into her green bloodshot eyes. “We need to get out of this. This scene is not for us. It’s not for me and it’s not for you. We are not the club kids that we think we are. Were wasted ******** youth. This is not why we were put on this earth for. We have so much potential to do so much more. I don’t want to be in this ******** club night after night anymore,” I explain to her, pleading with her to just come home with me and try to change our lives. I could care less about all the other people, but Meg is one of my best friends. I love her and she needs to trust me on this. I smirk. “And besides, these songs suck a**. I mean, it‘s the same song over and over again!”

She pulls my hands off her shoulders and she kisses my lips. She smells just like Frances smells. How raunchy. Do all club kids smell like this? Hell, Do I smell like this?! She shakes her head and taps my cheek. “Katty, you’re just sober or something. Get a little high and you’ll change your mind,” she tells me softly with a soft smile. What the ******** is wrong with these people?!

I shake my head. “No! Don’t you understand what I’m saying? I’m done with all of this. It’s ******** stupid. I’m done. And so are you. So come on. We’re going to my house and cleaning up and having mommy call us into a rehab,” I tell her, grabbing her cold hand and pulling her towards the door.

Meg yanks her hand away from mine. I look back at her, confused. “I’m not doing it,” she says bluntly.

I look at her confused now, my blonde eyebrows furrowing. “What are you talking about? You’re coming with me,” I tell her and go to grab her hand. She smacks my hand away.

“I’m not going. I have a good thing here. I have friends and I have people who love me. I don’t want to be regular ole Meg again. She never had friends and she sure as hell never had hot guys wanting her,” she tells me. She heads to the door. “I may love you, Kat, but I don’t love you enough to give this up.” With that, the blue-haired girl walks out of the bathroom. That whore! I stomp my purple converse onto the sticky floor, very upset. I flip off the door. “I don’t need you!” I scream to her, but I know she’s gone. I clear my throat and tears spring to my eyes. I screamed too loud. I don’t even care. I never needed anybody’s help in any way. I laugh at the Beatles’ quote and look down at my purple Chuck Taylors. I pull my pink cell phone and I dial my home phone number. I haven’t talk to Mommy in weeks. I hope she’s not mad at me. I put the phone to my ear and I bite my lower lip as it rings. My stomach tightens and I hear someone pick up.

“Hello?”

My heart skips a beat. “Mommy. It’s Ka…Frank,” I say, quietly. I forgot. In the year that I was a club kid, I never told her my club kid name. Not that it matters. I hate that name now. What was I thinking of naming myself such an idiotic name?

I can feel my head begin to throb even worse. “I’m wondering if you can pick me up?”

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN FOR THREE WEEKS?!” she screams in my ear. I pull the phone from my ear. I can hear her scream about how worried she’s been but I just push it away. She acts like I don’t know. I’ve heard the same thing over and over since I stopped coming home every night.

When her voice lowers, I put my ear back by the phone. “Ok, now that you’ve calmed down, I need you to pick me up from Club Bloc. I would walk but I can’t from here,” I tell her. “I think I’m changed.”

Mommy lets out a long sigh. What’s with the long sighs today? I swear, its getting quite annoying. “I’ll be there in a little bit,” she mumbles. I can tell she doesn’t want to but her motherly instincts have kicked in. Hell, if I was her and my son ran away for weeks at a time without a phone call and then just randomly comes home when he needs food, I’d kill him. Plain and simple.

I smile slightly. “Thanks, Mommy. Love ya,” I say and shut my cell phone and stick it back into my skirt pocket. I head out of the bathroom and I head towards the door. I roll my eyes as I hear a horrible remix of Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” is on the stereo. Well, it’s a way better change than the 2 hour beat. I see the door and my stomach flip flops and I begin to grin. I never thought I’d smile as I walk out of this place.

I feel someone grab my arm right as I’m about to walk out of the door and I’m spun around and pushed against the wall. Lennon is looking into my eyes. My heart begins to pound in my chest. Oh no. Right when I was near the door. What the hell is he going to do to me? I’ve heard the horror stories from the messed up clubber ends up raping and killing another just out of sheer boredom. I don’t want that to happened to me and Mommy have to see me with my skirt lifted up, my neck broken and blood smeared all over my backside. I wince as he raises his hand up to my cheek. Please don’t hit me. He pets my cheek. I open my eyes, very nervous. Ok, why is he acting like this? “I wanna go,” he tells me.

I raise an eyebrow. “What?” I yell to him. What’s he talking about? He must be too high to realize what he’s saying.

“I wanna get out of here. You leaving?” he asks.

I nod. “But I’m not coming back,” I inform him.

He nods now. “I don’t want to come back either,” he tells me. “I’m done.” He looks back at the dancing people and he looks back to me. “I’m done with all this.”

I smile softly. Well, at least I found one true friend through it all. I nod my head to the door. “Come on. Mommy’s going to be out front in a few minutes,” I tell him and he grins. I reach up and ruffle his hair and I grab his hand, pulling him towards the door. To my escape. “Welcome to the first second to a new life.”

Aw. Thank you! ^_^ That makes me happy that someone likes it that isn't biased. Kinda brings a tear to my eye. lol

Thank you.