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Blast to the Past

Novel By: Ziggy Stardust
Young adult

Tags: 1970, Rock, Young, Adult

A small-town teenager knew he didn't belong in this year. He dresses and acts like many people from the 1970's would! But one night, as Alex was browsing the selections at the local record and vintage item store, he noticed a small room, with neon lighting coming from inside... Contains cigarette smoking and swearing. View table of contents...


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Submitted:Mar 30, 2012    Reads: 16    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   

Chapter 1: Life in the Making

I woke up to the buzzing of my alarm clock. As I tossed myself out of my bed, I came to the realization that if I didn't get up and ready, I would be late for school. I grabbed for my clothes out of my dresser. An old David Bowie tour shirt from 1975, a pair of ripped jeans and a studded black leather jacket completed my general style.When I arrived at my breakfast table, I could sense my mother's disapproval over my selection.

" You know, if I looked through some flyers, I may be able to find some sales on some new shirts and pants for you." My mother said. She doesn't really like the fact that I don't dress like 'normal' teenagers. Even my friends don't like my style. They often tell me to cut my hair, get some new clothes, or wear a hoodie for once. One time, when my friend Peter came over, he asked what I had for music. You should've seen his face when i pulled out some heave-duty containers filled with records, 45's and some 8-tracks. "I'm fine with the clothes I have," I said to my overbearing mother as I rushed out our front door. I lit a smoke to calm myself down, for earlier I thought I would arrive late for class. Principal Adler already gave me a warning that if I was late again, I would have to repeat this semester. As I was walking, Peter rode up beside me on his bike. " How's it going, grampa?" He joked, mocking me of my style. " Shut up, Peter, everybody knows you're just jealous." I shot back. Now I knew It was going to be a very long walk.

You see, Peter's the kind of guy that annoys the hell out of you, but you've got to love him anyway. He does try his best to be funny, but most of the time it comes on as offensive. When I talk about some of my favorite artists, he doesn't even know who the hell I'm talking about. It's the same when it's him talking, too. We met when we were younger, when he and his parents moved to the neighborhood. His mother wanted him to meet some new friends, and my mother volunteered me for the job. I had to pretend to be his friend for the whole first week he was here. Soon afterward, we relied on eachother for advice, and soon became friends for real. When we arrived to school, I went to my locker, grabbing my books for my first class. On the way, I could see other students whispering, turning their heads toward me, and I even had some laugh right at me. I really didn't fit in here. I knew it, they knew it, even the teachers knew it. I got to my class, and as soon as I walked in, fashionably late, I quickly moved to the back of the room. There's nothing worse than having history first period.


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