3. Avril Lavigne has fun with a fan.

Avril Lavigne climbs down the stairs behind the stage. She's covered in sweat. She wears a black tank top and a mock-ballerina skirt. She has fishnet knee-highs on and fishnet gloves. Her black eyeliner is a bit runny. It was not her best concert and she knows why. All day, Avril has been pissed off about an article she read in Rolling Stone titled "How Punk Dies." It pointed out several music acts, her being one of them, that act "punk" but still project a reasonably-clean image. But Avril isn't pissed of because she knows the article is wrong. She's pissed off because she knows it's right. As she heads toward her dressing room, her manager stops her.

"Great Show Avril."

"Fuck off Marty."

"Got some people with backstage passes waiting for you," he says cautously. Avril rolls her eyes. "C'mon, these kids have been waiting a long time to see you. Pretend to be nice to them at least." Avril relents.

"Fine, but just one. Pick the one who looks... I dunno... most excited to see me, and send them in in five." She enters her dressing room, grabs a bottled water and takes a swig. She looks over herself in the mirror. Her body glowing with sweat, her hair plastered down onto her face. After a few minutes there is a knock at the door. She opens it to see a strikingly pretty, sweet-faced girl staring back at her. The girl wears a white "Avril" t-shirt, a pair of leather pants, a spiked collar and bracelet that don't quite fit with her "cute" features. It occurrs to Avril that this girl may be trying a little too hard. In a way, she reminds Avril of herself.

"Oh my god!!! It's really you," the girl screams. Avril cracks a half-smile. The girl is breathless, "My name is Holly, and I'm a huge fan." She attempts to peek into the dressing room, but Avril shuts the door.

Avril reaches over and puts her hand on Holly's soft shoulder walking her down the hallway. "So let's chat," she can see that Holly is about as elated a fan as she's ever met. "Tell me hon, and maybe this is a weird question, but do you think I'm punk?"

"Oh yes," Holly answers, "you're super punk." This doesn't put Avril's mind at ease. If only she could do something to prove to her detractors that she's not some frilly, prissy girl. Then, she has an idea. She smiles at Holly wickedly.

"Know what I think Hol? I think we should go get a drink," says Avril.

"Oh," Holly is sheepish, "I'm not really 21 you know. Maybe, though, maybe I could meet your band. That'd be cool."