This is a reupload. Because, you know, the first one was just terrible. I wrote it when I was like twelve and still believed High School Musical was an accurate representation of normal school. Cut me some slack.
I'm in the process of revising this entire story, little by little. As of right now all the chapters but this one are called chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4 and etc. The chapters with those as a title mean that I have not gotten to revising that yet and it still sucks. You can tell when I have revised that chapter by the chapter title. This chapter has an actual title instead of chapter ..., This means that this chapter has been groomed and fixed. Hopefully I explained that clearly.
The revised version still isn't that good. I just changed some grammar and some sentences but it's still the same messy, unorganized, juvenile plotline. So if you are looking for a good story, this is not it. Seriously. This really sucks. Please read my other stuff, which I guarantee will be significantly better than this train wreck you are about to read.
If, however, you are not put off by my warning and you still want to read this...well, all I can say is I cannot be accountable for the things going on in my brain when I was twelve. I know this story is unrealistic and terrible, but I promise my other stuff is NOT like this. (Please don't judge an author on their first story).
Disclaimer: I do not own Austin and Ally. I do however own a keyboard, which is how I was able to get this little thing online.
Ally's eyes fluttered open with the sound of birds chirping that filled the room. She blinked away the sleep and let the sound awaken her. The bright sun peeked only through a small window but just enough to light up the room.
She sat up in bed to take in the morning when BAM, the sound of her head knocking into the low, hardwood ceiling snapped her into reality.
The reality being, she was in an attic and it was almost time for school. Ally walked downstairs to an empty house; an empty house that never felt like home. She was glad no one was home; she did not want to confront her dad.
Everything about him terrified her.
Her dad had put her in the attic because he didn't want her around the new adopted baby. He believed her to be more of a vermin than a daughter. It was obvious to her, even when her mother was alive, that she was nothing more than an unwanted mistake. It was in the little things he had done since she was a kid; of course, she didn't realize it then.
It was in the way her dad never listened to a word she had to say; like she just wasn't there. Ally remembered shouting and screaming at him to get him to finally notice her, but the result was always unresponsive.
Eventually, she learned that her voice was better off unheard.
It was in the way he never told her she looked nice. He said it to everyone else but never to her. In fact, he gave her constant reminders of how absolutely imperfect she was. She was told many times to "eat some salad, do you want to look like an elephant?" or "you can't buy that dress. Those dresses are only for pretty girls." Ally was constantly trying to look better; be prettier. Like the women in the magazines her dad had scattered all over the kitchen table.
Eventually, she learned to cover up all the mirrors and accept the fact that beautiful was something she would never be.
So Ally grew up, closed off and quiet, with the idea that if she just stayed out of everybody's way, she would make it through the rest of her life alive.
"Here we go again," Ally mumbled as she slowly got ready for school.
She trudged throughout the house, picking up stray cigarette butts and beer bottles that were left on the floor from whatever her father chose to do that night.
She stepped into the bathroom and scrunched up her nose from the dingy smell. Cracked tiles covered the walls and the rusty faucet creaked with every turn. She brushed her teeth as fast as possible and ran out of the tainted air that filled the room. Ally skipped right past the kitchen knowing she would never find an edible substance in that room anyway. It was all alcohol and moldy bread.
Back in her attic, Ally pulled on the hand-me-downs from when her mom was young. The sleeves hung a little off her shoulders and the small rips in the seems made the fabric even more loose around her waist. She didn't mind too much though; just the thought that her mom wore the same clothes when she was her age, made Ally smile. She grabbed the jacket that hung off a hook on the peeling cream walls and slowly placed it over her aching shoulders. The floorboards creaked from the termite damage as she put on her dirty and frayed ankle boots.
She picked up her book bag from the floor, tossing it carelessly over her shoulder. Ally sighed as she stepped out into the money-obsessed and designer-labeled world where she knew she didn't belong.
Austin watched the houses go by from the car window. Everything seemed so normal. The way the grass was wet from the morning rain; the rusted gates that bordered the front yard; the toys that were scattered around the pavement, and the welcome mats that had been worn down from the amount of people that had gone in and out. He wondered what it would be like to be normal, to not be in the spotlight and live in a house with parents and homemade meals every night, but of course the bastards at his label wouldn't allow that.
He was stuck in an empty house with no parents and microwavable dinners. Because that was all it was; a house but not a home.
"Austin you have to be good on your first day," Dez paused, glancing over at the teen, whose mind was obviously elsewhere.
Austin snapped out of his ridiculous thoughts and quickly turned his head towards his manager. Austin looked at him and shrugged in complete disinterest. He was, after all, a famous billionare, why do he need to go to school anyway?
"Austin this bad boy act of yours is getting old! If you keep this up no one will like you anymore." Dez warned him.
"Who cares? The fans dont care about me all they care about is the next load of crap I slap onto an album. As long as my face is on it they couldnt care less." Austin muttered, his voice dripping with his usual disinterest.
Dez sighed, his eyes showing pity for the teen popstar. "Austin-"
"Just forget about it," he said, turning back to the window, "its not like you'll ever let me record my own music."
"I'm perfectly fine with you recording your own music," Dez remarked. "But the label just doesn't think it will sell as well as the stuff you have now."
Austin sighed, waving a dismissing hand at his manager. "I get it," he said aimlessly, having heard the same line over and over again.
His eyes were still focused out the window, watching the world go by. In the background, he could here Dez discussing his class schedule and the new teachers he would be having. But Austin knew that this was all temporary. This was his fifth school this year and Austin had no reason to believe this one would be any different. None of the five other schools had anything that caught his attention and no one has ever said lucky number six.
Austin sighed as the large school building came into view from the window. "Just get through today," he whispered to himself.
Ally got to school early, before even the teachers showed up, and she shuffled through her locker trying to find a sweater to cover up both the old and the new scars from her father's belt. The scars covered every inch of her arm and the ones down her back were even worse. She got those whenever she tried to run away but it was pretty easy to tell that she was never fast enough.
Her father was a naturally angry person but when he was drunk, his anger turned to abuse. Though lately, her father had been coming home drunk every night.
"Gotcha!" Ally cheered as she pulled a long sweater from the back of her locker.
The sleeves were way too long and the fabric fell slightly off her shoulders but it was all she had. She looked at her watch, smiling as she realized there was still half an hour before people would begin to come in. Ally grinned, immediately making her way over to the music room in the school.
Ally walked into the familiar territory of the room; the one place she truly felt safe. She ran her hand over the smooth ebony wood of the piano that was in the room. She lifted up the cover and hit a few random keys, smiling from the melodic sound, that sound made her feel safe and calm. Ally sat down on the bench and began to play. She felt so at home with her fingers running over the black and white keys.
Her mother used to play piano to her every night. It was the one thing her father could never take away from her. He may have thrown away the photographs and scrubbed the house clean of any remembrance of her mother, but Ally knew music would be the one thing they shared. Music would be the one thing connecting the two. The indestructible bond of hearing a song and placing it with a memory.
To Ally, music was more than a good rhythm to sing and dance to. It was her escape, her safe haven, her mother.
Austin groaned, walking into the school as he realized Dez dropped him off early. Extremely early. You would think he knew how to tell time, Austin thought to himself. He sighed as he looked at the piece of paper in his hand. "Locker number 287" it read. Austin looked up at the row of blue lockers infront of him.
"Okay," he said softly, "locker 285, 286, locker number 287!"
Austin carelessly tossed his books into the locker and slammed it shut, not caring about the loud noise that shook the empty halls. He was about to give up on this whole stupid school idea and just go home when he heard the faint but distinct sound of a piano being played and then a small voice overlapped with the notes. Her voice fit perfectly into the melody and it created the most original song he had ever heard.
Austin followed the voice down the halls, his mouth curving upwards into a faint smile.
Ally smiled to herself as she scribbled down the new verse in her book. She closed the book, a satisfied smile making it's way onto her face. Another song was finished and would be tucked away forever.
"HELLO!" Ally heard someone shout.
She froze, the smile disappearing, her hands still gripping onto the pencil tightly. Ally heard the footsteps get louder as the person approached the room. With a quick curse under her breath, she grabbed her book from the piano and bolted out the back door of the classroom.
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