All Time Low

All Time Low-I Tell It As It Is, Get Over It!

The queue backed up all the way round the corner and I new that it stretched back around several more corners. Part of me just wanted to give up and go home, but I knew that Noela would never forgive me if I came home and didn't get that autographed CD by the band that she loved so much words couldn't describe.

I hate their music.

I felt so different compared to the mass of girls screaming and showing off their band t-shirts. I live with my little sister, my mum and her new boyfriend and I work in a music store that the band was signing at today.

Slowly the line edged forward and the people screamed louder as their idols came into view. The band seemed to smile harder than ever and a smirk spread over my face, the one on the end noticed and looked at me with a flirtatious smile. I guess that was what they all did, flash a smile and pretend to be in love with every fan that buys their album.

"Hey, excuse me, you can go up now," a bodyguard pushed me forward and I gave the CD, that my sister bought, to the first guy.

"Hi, I guess you know who I am," a young man with long hair flicked across his face said cockily.

"No, actually, I don't," I answered angrily. Why did he have to assume that everyone was here for them and not for their little sister like me? He signed the album and passed along the line of band members. None of them spoke to me but I wouldn't have heard them anyway because a new batch of boy band loving teenagers rounded the corner and screamed louder than everyone. The last one who was the same age as me flashed that smile again and signed the CD.

"I'm guessing this isn't yours," he commented. I could barely make out what he said.

"What gave me away?" I asked curious if he could see my attitude.

"Well, other than the heavy metal band t-shirt, the dark make-up and the 'I don't want to be here' look. That more or less sums it up," he said but some reason I breathed a laugh at the joke. The rest of the band stopped signing the fans merchandise and stared at me. The fans looked at me as well but didn't seem impressed by my talking skills.

The girl next to me, looked at me and whispered the obvious, "she doesn't belong here." Her words hurt but they were the truth.

I didn't belong in this crowd.

That made me look to the floor without a scrap of dignity left.

"Thanks," I breathed and slipped out with the rest of the girls.

"Wait," the guy got up and ran after me, grabbed my shoulder, lightly pushing me against the screen that separated the behind-the-scene workers from the fans.

"I'm Jack and this is my number. Please phone me. Please," he pleaded. The crowd was chanting his name but his name resounded in my head without their help.

Jack.

He let go of me and ran back to his fans. This didn't make sense. Why was he giving me his number, he didn't even know me.

He didn't even know my name.