When I got the call from Dawn, I was at the library. It was a Saturday and I had work to do. And I was actually at the library, for once, glad I could tell my sister the truth about what I was doing. Not that she ever asked; usually our conversations were about her and Ryan. I'd never met the guy, but wasn't too surprised to hear that he was a no good, cheating scumbag; I'd never gotten the impression that he was as great as Dawn believed he was. But I could never tell her this, not when she was so clearly smitten. And now, so heartbroken. I wanted to wring the guy's neck for hurting her this way. I made a mental note to be careful not to say anything to Sharon or my dad; they were too hard on Dawn as it was, even from clear across the country.

I wished they'd pay half as much attention to me as they did her. But I was the good one, the quiet one. The one nobody ever worried about.

I'd been living a double life.

It wasn't anything scandalous, really. It was just…different.

It started as an accident; I walked into the wrong bar on the wrong night.

I was fairly sure I'd just bombed my British Literature midterm and needed a beer to unwind. I looked through yelp to find a bar and, on a whim, picked the one with the interesting name, The Galley. This was unlike me; usually I'd prep and plan, stick to familiar scenes, but that day I felt different. So, clad in skinny jeans, sensible boots, a comfy sweater and a pea coat, I walked into the bar.

Right away, I could tell I didn't fit in. The doorman had given me a funny look, but I thought nothing of it until I walked through the corridor and saw the front of the bar. It was dark, almost Victorian gothic in décor. Everyone there was cool. Much cooler than me. They all had tattoos, wild hair, facial piercings. They wore scuffed black combat boots, beat up converse sneakers, leather jackets with skulls and studs. The air was thick and hot like at the tropical conservatory at the Exploratorium and smelled of smoke, sweat and something vaguely sweet I couldn't identify. I walked up to the bar and ordered a whiskey sour from the bartender, a heavyset women with a shaved head. When she turned around I could see her scalp was tattooed. I tipped two dollars and took my drink, eager to see the rest of the bar.

Around the corner there was a battered old pool table and the restrooms. Around another corner there was a stage with a band setting up and to the right, a door. Curious, I walked up to the door, cautiously sipping on my drink. It was strong. There was a tiny patio, more of a closed off hallway between buildings, with space for about five people comfortably. I was the only one outside. I was about to go back in when a girl walked out, cussing up a storm and slamming the door behind her.

"God, what an asshole. Men, the fucking worst, am I right? Hey, do you have a light? Aw, never mind, I found one. I'm Trina, by the way."

She was tall and very skinny, with dark hair cropped about shoulder length in jagged pieces and bangs that fell in her eyes. She had on lots of black eyeliner, which made her look paler than she was.

"Hi," I said meekly, taking another sip of my drink.

She took a longer glance at me, taking a drag of her cigarette.

"Are you alone? No to be rude, but this doesn't…seem to be your kind of place. What's your name, doll?"

"Mary Anne," I replied. "No, it's not. I just kind of…wandered in."

Trina laughed, not unkindly. "Yeah, that's how most of us find our way here."

The door swung open again.

"Trina, your jaggoff boyfriend's looking for you. Hey, lemme have a drag of that."

"Goddamn it, I told him I'd be outside. You can have the rest." She nodded at me. "Nice to meet you, I'll catch ya inside."

"So. Hi." Said the stranger, taking a puff. He was tall, and very, very cute. He was tall, had shaggy brown hair, thick eyebrows and soulful eyes.

"Hi," I said, taking another sip.

"Whatcha drinkin'?"

"Whiskey Sour."

"Really? You're shittin' me. I thought it would be a lemon drop or some shit."

I laughed. "I grew up with drinkers. I know how to order booze." I was surprised at my honesty and my boldness; I hadn't ever really told anyone how much Dad and Sharon drank.

"Is that so…"he was quiet for a minute, smoking in thought. "I'm Jimmy."

"Annie." I blurted out. Nobody had ever called me Annie. I'm not sure what I was thinking.

"Annie. Nice to meet you."

"You, too."

"My band is playing in awhile. You should stick around." He finished the cigarette and stamped it out.

"Yeah, okay," I replied, curious to hear what kind of music came out of a place like this.

"See ya." He wandered back inside.

I stayed to listen. Trina saw me and insisted I hang with her. We watched the band from the back, drinks in hand. The music was loud, fast and violent. Like nothing I'd ever heard before. Trina shook her head to the beat. People danced around the front, pushing and shoving each other. I'd never seen anything like it. It was all so real, so raw, so chaotic, unlike the scheduled boring life my father and everyone else had laid out for me. I couldn't believe I was a part of it.

But I was. Trina invited me back and slowly, but surely, I entered the scene. I had a taste for punk, and I liked it. I didn't share my new circle of friends with anyone, feeling a wicked sort of pleasure at having a secret world of my own.

Dawn never asked about my friends or what I did when I wasn't studying. I can only assume she thought I spent my time with Kristy and Claudia, which I did, occasionally. I made excuses, told lies, all so I could go to shows with my new friends. I didn't want the judgment, didn't want to have to explain that my friends were dropouts, that they had shitty jobs and no future plans other than to have fun. It was time I had some secrets, about time I had some real fun.