Nobody would believe me if I told this to my friends at Egmont, but when I was sixteen, I had blue hair, and I played the bass in a crunkcore band called The Love Martyrs. All throughout the summer before my junior year of high school, Blake and I would play at any venue that would put up with our questionable fashion sense and Auto-Tuned vocals. We weren't exactly popular in the area, but we did have a small group of devoted local fans, and even better, there were girls in Japan who were crazy for the Love Martyrs. For two teenagers playing dress-up, we were doing pretty well for ourselves.

When school started again, Blake and I were determined to keep The Love Martyrs going, so our manager booked us a show at a local club on the day before my junior year started. The show itself wasn't anything special, but it was what happened afterwards that changed everything.

"THANK YOU, CLEVELAND!" Blake screamed into the microphone as we played our last chord, as if we were on a huge world tour and not playing a barely-advertised local show. Nevertheless, the girls in the crowd squealed at the top of their lungs as I ran over to the fog machine and switched it off. I wasn't sure exactly when we had decided that switching the fog machine on and off during our shows was my job, but over time, it had become a habit.

I never read the liner notes on The Love Martyrs EP, but if I read them now, I wouldn't be surprised if they read "Dani Blue - bass and fog machine, Blayyke Pink - everything else."

Once the fog cleared, I looked out into the crowd. I recognized some of the girls in the front row from previous shows, but others were new. I definitely knew the girl closest to Blake, although I couldn't remember whether her name was Jen or Lynn. All of the girls had started to blur together, but I was sure that Blake had brought Jen/Lynn backstage before. I wondered if he would do it again.

Once the cheers died down, Blake walked offstage, and I followed him, carrying my bass, which I had decorated with silver sparkles. "I thought that went really well," he said once we were both backstage.

"Me too," I said, and it was true. Both of us had played in time with the loud, synthesized backing tracks, but then again, most of the fans weren't there for the music. It was Blake's performance that drew them in, the way that he screamed and rapped and danced like there was no tomorrow. I was up there with him, and even I found it hypnotic.

"Your bass playing was great today, Dani," Blake said.

"Thanks," I said. "I've been practicing."

"I can tell. You just need to do a better job of making it look effortless."

"I don't think anyone's even paying attention to me, Blake."

Blake laughed and gave me a pat on the head. "Of course they're paying attention to you," he said.

I wasn't so sure about that, but I wasn't sure if I wanted all of those people to pay attention to me anyways. I was fine with the girls in the audience staring at Blake's ridiculously flippy hot pink hair and neon green hoodie. I never minded being in the background, even when the simple fact that I was in a crunkcore band made it impossible to blend in sometimes.

"Hey Blake, I have a few questions for you," I said.

"What is it?"

"Are you going to drive me to school again this year?"

Blake laughed. "Dani, I'm out of school now. If I can avoid it, I'm never going to William McKinley High School ever again." I could understand that, but I still groaned and rolled my eyes. "I'm sorry, Dani," Blake added, but he didn't sound like he meant it.

"Are you going to invite that girl backstage?" I asked, wondering if I should leave before the groupies started showing up.

"Which girl?" Blake asked.

"The redhead," I answered. "I forgot her name. I think it's Jen or Lynn or something like that..."

"I know who you're talking about," Blake said.

"What's her name?"

Blake shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm not inviting her backstage this time."

"You're probably going to bring one of her friends back here then, right?"

"No, I'm not." I gave Blake a confused look, since all of this seemed unlike him. "I'm tired of having sex," he explained.

"Blake, are you seriously complaining about having too much sex?" I said, exasperated.

"Yes!" Blake exclaimed.

"There are people out there who would kill to be you, and you're complaining about it."

"You'd understand if you were in my position, Dani. I'm sick of fucking a new girl every night. I want to find true love."

"Listen Blake, finding someone that you love is a great idea, but it's easier said than done," I said. "I'll help you find a girlfriend if that's what you want though."

Blake groaned and said, "Dani, I'm really not sure how much you can help me here. I don't think you've ever even had a boyfriend."

I stayed quiet for a moment. He was right about that, and it was useless to argue. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Blake sighed and said, "Maybe I should just go home, and maybe I could bring that Lynn...Jen...whatever her name is with me..."

"Blake, you just said that you were going to try to find true love," I reminded him.

Blake swore loudly, put his guitar back into its case, and stormed out of the room, leaving me on my own backstage. I wanted to leave too - it had been an exhausting show, and I didn't have the energy to interact with anyone else that night - but I needed to talk to our manager before the night was over.

Blake wasn't always like this though.

We were in the same homeroom when I was in sixth grade. It was during first period, with Mrs. Fowler, in room 142. It's funny what you remember, and for some reason, I remember that all of these years later, but I couldn't tell you about any of my other classes that year, even if my life depended on it.

Most days, I just sat there, staring out the window or doodling animals on a piece of scratch paper, because what else were you supposed to do during a first period homeroom? I never paid attention to the other kids in the classroom, especially not the eighth grader who sat next to me.

A few months into the school year, I hauled my backpack into the room, sat down in my desk, and expected to have another forty minutes to myself, when the boy next to me tapped my shoulder. I turned around to face him. He looked different back then: his growth spurt hadn't hit yet, his blond hair was cut short, and his blue-gray eyes weren't quite so world-weary. "Do you want to hear something cool?" he whispered to me.

I nodded, mostly out of shock that the older boy was talking to me at all. He took out an iPod, plugged in a pair of earbuds, and handed one earbud to me. He then pressed play, and soft bass notes and drums flowed into my ears.

You can't resist her

She's in your bones

She is your marrow

And your ride home

You can't avoid her

She's in the air

In between molecules of

Oxygen and carbon dioxide

I had never heard anything like it before. The boy next to me was bobbing his head along to the beat, but I was frozen in place, intently listening to every word and every note. I remember thinking that those minutes of bliss, sitting there and listening to that song, were going to be the best eight minutes of my life.

After the song was over, I quietly asked the boy, "What song was that?"

"Weezer." He never did tell me what it was called - I had to look it up later using the name of the band and the handful of lyrics that I could remember.

"Can I listen to another song?"

He laughed and said, "Maybe I'll show you another one tomorrow. What's your name?"

"Danielle, but everyone calls me Dani."

"I'm Blake. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too."

Blake put his iPod back into his backpack, and the two of us chatted about our classes and life at Northwest Middle School. He gave me advice on how to survive math class, and I told him about how my little sister had lost a tooth the night before. Sometimes, Mrs. Fowler told us to quiet down, but we just laughed and kept talking.

Both of us were more than a little disappointed when the bell rang, and we had to go our separate ways, but as promised, Blake played me another Weezer song the next day. This time, it was "Say It Ain't So," which to this day, is one of all-time favorite songs. Going to homeroom became my favorite part of the day, and when Blake graduated from middle school at the end of the year, I knew that I would miss his company.

We still stayed friends after that, and if anything, we became even closer over the summer. I was at his house more than I was at mine, and we played video games, destroyed my braces with popcorn and Gobstoppers, and of course, listened to Weezer at ear splitting volumes.

It's worth mentioning that on the first day of seventh grade, one of my teachers asked each student to tell him what their favorite artist was. One kid said Lady Gaga. Another said Taylor Swift. The girl before me said Justin Bieber. I said Weezer.

The teacher shook his head, said, "Their new stuff has been so disappointing," and moved on to the next kid.

I didn't quite understand what he was talking about. For me, it didn't matter whether or not it was "cool" to listen to Weezer, or who was in the band, or what the music critics thought of them, or if their "old stuff" was better than their "new stuff." I loved them simply and unconditionally, in the way that only a twelve year old fangirl can. Sometimes, I wish that I could still love them like that.

Anyways, despite Blake's flaws, he still meant everything to me. By the time we started The Love Martyrs, it had been five years since we had first met, and I wouldn't abandon my best and only friend just because he was sleeping with a new girl every night. At that point, I believed that I wouldn't abandon him for the world.

After Blake left that night, I made my way through the crowd and found our manager, Tommy Davidson. Tommy was an unassuming man in his early twenties, with shaggy, dark hair and pale skin. Anywhere else, he would have blended in, but at a crunkcore show where everyone was dressed in neon, his plain black T-shirt and jeans made him stand out. Blake had met him on the Internet, where he had advertised himself as a "freelance music manager."

I greeted Tommy, and he said, "Hey, Dani. What's going on?"

"Are we going to start recording our EP soon?" I asked him.

"I think that you should," Tommy said. "You should talk to Blake about that though."

"Blake's not here," I said.

"Try texting him about the EP then."

"Okay." He didn't ask where Blake went, so I didn't tell him, and I definitely didn't tell him about Blake's quest to find true love. Instead, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text that read, "Hey Blake, Tommy wants to know when we want to record our EP."

"Once you two decide on when you want to record, I can get you some time in the studio. You should do it sooner rather than later though."

"Why?"

"I know Cleveland hasn't warmed up to The Love Martyrs yet, but the singles that you've posted online are huge in Japan. It's about time that you and Blake capitalize on that."

I nodded and said, "I'll tell Blake that." He was always very proud of the fact that The Love Martyrs had a fanbase in Japan.

"Great. You two have a lot of potential, you know. You saw how those girls in the front row were already singing along to 'The Party Never Stops,' and you only released that song two weeks ago."

I didn't tell Tommy that I didn't see those girls until the end of the song, thanks to the fog machine. Instead, I smiled and said, "Thanks for the support, Tommy. You're the best."

Tommy shrugged and said, "It's what I'm here for."

All of a sudden, I saw a girl with long, brown hair carrying a backpack studded with buttons and patches, and she was heading toward the door. "Sydney!" I shouted, and the thirteen year old turned around suddenly.

"What is it, Dani?" she asked.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I walked here straight from soccer camp so I could get a spot in the front row. It didn't really work, since there were other girls who got here first, but you've talked so much about your band, and I really, really wanted to hear you and Blake play live. You guys were so good."

I cringed at the thought of Sydney dancing along to Blake screaming, "Fuck me harder, girl!" over and over again. She shouldn't have come at all. If I knew that she was planning to go to the show, I would have told her to stay home. My sister deserved better than to become one of those crazed Love Martyrs fangirls in the front row of our concerts.

"Sydney, it's past your bedtime, isn't it?" I asked as I looked at the clock.

"So what?" Sydney said.

"Mom and Jason are going to be furious."

"What's the worst they can do to me?"

Even at thirteen, my sister was already quite the rebel. I ignored her and said, "We're going home."

I went backstage again, picked up my instrument case, and left the venue. Sydney reluctantly followed me. I put my bass in the backseat of Jason's car while Sydney climbed into the passenger seat. I got into the driver's seat and told Sydney, "You can pick the music if you want."

Sydney, predictably, played Green Day, and I drove her back to our house. I had just gotten my driver's license, so I accidentally blew through a stop sign or two, but we made it back safely.

When the two of us entered the house, Mom and Jason both ran into the living room. "Where were you two?" Jason asked.

I didn't know what to say. If I told him that both of us were at a Love Martyrs concert, he would certainly find some way to criticize us for what we had done. Although I didn't think that Sydney should have come to the concert, neither of us needed to hear that our taste in music was Satanic.

Sydney was thankfully a better liar than I was. "Youth group," she said.

"I didn't think youth group went this late," Jason said.

"Karen made us stay late," Sydney said.

"I'll have to look into that. She shouldn't be keeping kids up this late at night. Youth group is supposed to end at eight o'clock sharp. Timeliness is next to godliness, after all."

"I thought it was cleanliness is next to godliness," Mom said.

"I was close," Jason said. "Dani, Sydney, go pack up for school tomorrow, and then get to bed."

"Okay, Jason," I said. He had been married to Mom for almost a year by that point, but I still couldn't bring myself to call him "Dad." Nevertheless, I took my school backpack out of my closet and filled it with school supplies, just as he had asked. Sydney was presumably doing the same thing in her bedroom. Junior year was about to start, and I needed to be ready to face high school without Blake by my side.

After I was done packing, I got a text from Blake. "I tried to go to bed after the show, but I can't stop tossing and turning," he wrote. "Anyways, I think next weekend might work for me."

"That works for me too," I texted.

I passed the information on to Tommy, and then turned my phone off. I could have texted Blake all night, and I had done that on a few occasions, but I needed to sleep.

I finished getting ready for bed, but like Blake, I couldn't sleep. Junior year was supposed to be the hardest year of high school, and it would be the first year where I wouldn't have my best friend. Blake was my support system when school became impossible to handle. How could I survive without him? I barely slept that night, alternating between trying to count sheep, staring up at the ceiling, and envisioning the worst possible things that could happen to be on the first day of school.

The next morning, Sydney had already left for the bus stop by the time I woke up. Furious that I hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye to her, I rushed through my morning routine, taking a little bit too long to decide what to wear. I searched through my closet, but the brightly colored shirts, ripped skinny jeans, and neon sneakers that I wore to Love Martyrs shows didn't quite work for the first day of school. I eventually decided on a simple black T-shirt and denim shorts, but my outfit didn't match my blue hair, which was flying in all directions.

Once I was ready to go, I took my backpack, ran to the bus stop, and got onto the school bus. I found a seat on the front of the bus, trying my best to stay away from the other high schoolers. I put my earbuds in to drown out the noise, but already, I missed having Blake around to drive me to school.

When we pulled into the parking lot, I searched around for Blake's red Mazda. It wasn't there. The rational part of me knew I should have expected that, but his absence was still disappointing. I got off of the bus and walked through the doors into McKinley High, wishing that my best friend was by my side.

When the first bell rang, I pushed through the overcrowded halls and made it to my English class just as it was about to start. I barely listened to the teacher, who was clearly sticking to the script that all of the teachers seemed to follow on the first day of school. We went around the classroom and introduced ourselves, and at the end of class, the teacher gave out a relatively easy assignment for us to complete. I told myself that I would go insane if I had to put up with this for every single one of my classes.

PE wasn't much better. Part of the problem was that I had PE second period, and the rest of the problem was because Blake and I always took PE together. Since we were two years apart, it was one of the only classes that we could both take at the same time.

We went up into the fitness room that day, and when I rushed to the back of the room to turn on the Wii and play Just Dance, I found that they had taken out the Wii over the summer. As I reluctantly got onto one of the few ellipticals left, I wondered if playing Just Dance would have even been worth it without Blake.

During the next passing period, I texted Blake, "THEY TOOK THE WII OUT OF THE FITNESS ROOM!!!" He didn't respond.

I entered my math classroom and found a seat near the back, next to a poster of a three-toed sloth. I stared at the poster as the teacher, Mrs. Welch, introduced herself. Honestly, there was no need for her to tell us who she was. Everyone at McKinley knew Mrs. Welch. She sponsored every club that couldn't find someone else to sponsor them, meaning that if you came to the high school at five o'clock in the morning or seven o'clock in the evening, she would probably be the only teacher there. As she put it, she was "the proud sponsor of Science Olympiad, Quiz Bowl, Math Team, German Club, French Club, GSA, Chess Club, Robotics, Mock Trial, and Anime Club. Did I forget any?"

Nobody said anything, so Mrs. Welch continued on with her spiel, and I went back to gazing at the sloth poster. In my defense, it was adorable.

Everyone in high school seems to look forward to lunch, and I did too until Blake graduated. Blake and I always made sure that we had the same lunch period, and we would always sit at the same table in the corner of the cafeteria, just the two of us, and chat about whatever we wanted over whatever terrible high school cafeteria food they were serving that day. It was always the best part of my day.

After history was over, I went to the cafeteria, but I didn't know what to do without Blake. If I didn't have him, I wouldn't have anyone to meet in the cafeteria or wait in line for mac and cheese with. Blake's friends had all graduated too, and I barely knew anyone in my grade, even after two years at McKinley.

I took a tray and placed a slice of pizza and a handful of fries on it, pretending as if Blake was doing the same thing. If he was there, he would have complained about how the cheese looked even more fake than it had last year, and I would have laughed hysterically, but knowing Blake, he was probably still asleep.

I walked up to the table that Blake and I usually sat at, but a group of freshmen were sitting there. "Sorry, but this seat's taken," one of the girls said, gesturing toward the only empty seat at that table. I sighed and walked away, hoping that I could find a spot elsewhere. It still wouldn't be the same if it wasn't at our table.

I searched around the cafeteria, but it seemed like every table was filled with strangers. When I couldn't find a spot in the cafeteria, I went into an empty classroom and ate my lunch there, occasionally watching students pass by as I ate my cafeteria cheese pizza, which really had no right to be called cheese pizza. I could still hear the other students in the cafeteria, joking and cheering and screaming just as Blake and I used to do.

I pulled out my phone, but Blake still hadn't texted me back, so I looked ahead to see my AP Biology syllabus. At least I could look forward to that after lunch, but if the first half of the day was any indication, it would be just as boring as my other classes. I tried texting Blake again, this time complaining about how awful my classes were. Again, he didn't respond.

I nearly started crying, but I realized how pathetic that would be. It was only the first day of school. I had no right to be this upset already, when junior year had barely started.

It was only after I finished my pizza that I looked around that empty, undecorated classroom and realized just how lonely I was.