So here's the first chapter of a mostly-written, rather long story I've had sitting around for a while. Flames will be pointed and laughed at, you silly homophobes you. Reviews would be lovely.

This is rated for language and future sexual activities. This is not rated for slash, because I don't rate based on orientation. That's just stupid.

I don't own School of Rock, or Zack or Freddy. Oh, the things they would do if I did.

However, I do own Zack's car and the horrid note from Freddy's parents. And, of course, the plot.


He couldn't believe it actually happened. Sure, there had been hints and implications and even full-fledged discussions, but he never really thought they were serious.

Freddy Jones had been officially and permanently kicked out of his house.

On his birthday.

The three suitcases and packed up drum set had probably been sitting outside for hours, just waiting on the porch for him to come home. The note taped on the door was the real kicker. His father's messy scribble basically told him that he was no longer a resident there, being eighteen. Everything in his room was transferred to the suitcases (except the furniture). Supposedly. But Freddy got the feeling that a few precious CD's and song sheets had been chucked in the fireplace out of spite, seeing his parents had been just dying to do that for years.

The note also stated that some extra cash had ever-so-generously been added to his bank account. The given reason was so Freddy could easily get a new life started. The real reason was so Freddy wouldn't come running back home asking for money. A good amount had probably been added too, probably in the hundred thousands. Anything to make sure their son would never return.

The weirdest part was how okay Freddy was with it. His parents were drifting further and further away from him anyway. When was the last time they even had a stupid family dinner? Plus his mom had been a total bitch lately, about how her son was turning into some punk-rock wannabe, with all of the worn band shirts and beaten-up jeans. He still spiked his blonde hair, with the occasional band-oriented sweatband. And he couldn't even recall the last time he left the house without a pair of drumsticks shoved hastily in his back pocket.

Still trying to grasp the concept that he no longer lived anywhere, Freddy dug out his cell phone. He had a few options as to who to call. There was Katie, but he didn't really want to put up with her asshole of a boyfriend. Then there was Summer, but he was like ninety percent sure she was sleeping with Lawrence.

And then there was Zack.

Technically speaking, he and Zack were best friends. But not in the usual sense. They hung out enough, like maybe once a week. And they talked, but it wasn't like how you'd talk to your closest friend, with all that deep secret crap. It was just a normal friendship, nothing special or really all that close. But the thing is, they didn't have anyone closer.

Freddy knew enough about Zack. The guitarist, already eighteen, had a similar family life. Except, instead of being ignored, his father wouldn't leave Zack alone. It was always 'I'm-disappointed-in-you' this and 'you're-ruining-your-life' that. Freddy didn't get it. Zack was practically a second freaking Jimi Hendrix, but Mr. Mooneyham just didn't appreciate his son. And Zack, although seemingly okay, has had a few breakdowns because of it. The stuff that went on between them got nasty a few times, including shouts that could be heard down half the fricken block. And one time, probably one of the worst, Zack's favorite guitar had been chucked out a window by a steaming Mr. Mooneyham and smashed beyond repair on the driveway. It took two months for Zack to even look at his father again without getting the urge to stab him.

So Zack would understand Freddy's situation. Hell, out of all the people Freddy knew, Zack would be the most (and only) understanding one. But did Zack really need this added to his list of things to stress about?

Freddy didn't have much time to think it over as a scuffling of sneakers on concrete came from his left.

"Hey Freddy… what's with the bags?" And like some greater being decided for Freddy, Zack was there. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his semi-skinny jeans, kinda-too-small black band shirt making him seem even thinner. Freddy silently handed him the note, which Zack quickly scanned. "Christ, man… this for real?" Freddy only nodded in response, now looking down at his old blue converse. He focused on the graying shoelaces, the fading sharpie on the toe, the tattered sides, feeling Zack's gaze on him. "What're you gonna do, Freddy?"

"I got money in my bank account… they put more in too. So I'll probably just get an apartment or something…"

"What about college?" Zack asked. Freddy nearly forgot… they had graduated a week ago from high school, and college would start at the end of the summer…

"They already paid the tuition, so I'm good there. I just need to get a place cuz I'm not staying on campus. There are those newer apartments over by the university, I guess I could look into those."

"Those are all two-bedroom ones. The costs are usually split between two people cuz they aren't exactly cheap. Even with the extra cash, that's a hell of a rent for just you."

"I guess I could look into a roommate or something. There's bound to be some guys going to the university anyway needing a place to stay." Freddy said thoughtfully. He glanced at Zack, who was intently watching his front porch. It wasn't exactly the strangest thing that the brunette was just wandering near his house. He only lived two blocks away, after all. But how often did he really come by for no reason whatsoever? Even when he was trying to escape his father for a while, he made it obvious why he was there. But now, Freddy had no idea. "Um, so what are you doing here, anyway?"

"Um, well… it's kinda funny…" Zack glanced around nervously. "I left."

Freddy stared at him, confused.

"Left… left what… wait, left your house?" He asked, dumbfounded. Zack nodded. "Like, forever?" Another nod. "Damn."

"Yeah, it's really ironic." Zack muttered, then noticed Freddy's blank look and rolled his eyes. "It means it's really weird. You and I got our asses on the streets on the same day."

"Oh. So, what're you gonna do?"

"Probably same as you. My dad gave me an extra two hundred grand as I left so I'd never need him again. My college stuff's already paid off for the next four years, since I got that full scholarship." Zack said, running a hand though his shaggy brown hair subconsciously. Freddy bit his lip, considering another idea.

"Well… we could… if you wanna… get an apartment. Together, I mean. If you want."

"That'd be cool. Plus we're both going to Dickerton University, so it would actually work really well." Zack paused when Freddy laughed a little. "What?"

"Dickerton. Dick. We're going to Dick school."


"So, hey, where's your stuff?" Freddy asked, noticing Zack's lack of suitcases.

"In my car. Which is still in my driveway." Zack said, throwing a hand in the general direction of his house. Freddy gave him an odd look.

"Why the hell didn't you drive here?"

"Um… you know, I don't really know. Come on, I'll help you carry your stuff to my house." He grabbed two suitcases with wheels in one hand, the last suitcase with no wheels dangling in the other. Freddy needed his entire arm span to grab the drums, and they slowly ambled to Zack's house.


They managed to stuff all seven suitcases- Freddy's three plus another four from Zack- in the trunk. The car wasn't really that big in the first place, and the suitcases weren't all that small. But after some shifting and flashbacks from geometry, Freddy managed to stuff everything in. His drum set and Zack's two guitars were settled in the back seat.

"Wow, Freddy. You actually got them all in."

"I know. I told you my amazing Tetris skills would come in handy one day." He slammed the trunk closed and piled into the passenger's seat. "Okay, so I got the number for those apartments…" He pressed a series of numbers in his cell phone and clamped it to his ear. "Hello? Yes, I'm interested in renting an apartment. Yep. No, I already have a roommate. What? Oh… okay. Freddy Jones and Zack Mooneyham. Freshmen. Okay, bye." He snapped his phone shut and turned to Zack.

"So what happened?"

"The lady said that they're re-doing an entire wing, which is the only available space, so we'd have to wait until about Friday to get one. But I put our names down and she reserved us a spot, with a slight discount for the first six months for any inconvenience."

"But… what do we do until Friday? It's only Tuesday… that's three days of nowhere to go."

"There's a Marriott about a block from the apartment building… we can just stay there until it's done." So off they headed, Freddy constantly flicking the station from classic rock to alternative, and if Zack had been any other person, he probably would've opened the passenger side door, shoved the blonde out, and ran him over a few good times.