They Found Him In A Cadillac..., chapter 3
I stare at Jakob.
"You know her Jake?" asks Mr Armstrong. I don't think I want to use his first name, because I really don't know him...
"Yeah, she goes to my school, is she ok?"
"I'm fine, Jakob," I say, sucking at my palm, "I haven't been crushed into the tarmac, in case you hadn't noticed." Mr Armstrong looks at me still sucking at the graze on my hands.
"We'd better get you cleaned up," he says, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me upright.
"No, seriously, I'm fine. I have to get back to my place, my little brother-"
"He'll be fine. If you don't clean those cuts they could get infected," he insists, walking me back up to their house, with Jakob trotting along beside.
"So what the hell did you DO, Dad?"
"Nothing," I sigh, "I ran across the road at the wrong moment."
"Thankyou..." says Mr Armstrong, looking at me.
"Sophia."
"Yes, thank you Sophia, even though it wasn't your fault, I would like to point out the fact that I am not a kid-killing psychopath."
"I didn't think y-" I start. He waves it away.
"No, not you- Jakob. How could you accuse your dad, Jakey?" He pouts.
He actually pouted.
Jakob rolls his eyes.
"Oh god Dad, please DON'T fucking pull that face in front of my friends. It looks so pathetic." They argue good-naturedly all the way to their front door, with me still in a bit of a daze of the sudden revelation that my new friend is the offspring of a rockstar, and Mr Armstrong steers me into the kitchen where he sits me on a stool, and starts rummaging through cupboards.
"Shit, where's that bloody medi-kit shit, Jake?" Jakob sits down beside me.
"I'm supposed to know this how? Fuck Dad, didn't YOU put it away this morning? Seriously, I reckon if you didn't have you driving license, you wouldn't remember your name."
"Ah," says his Dad, pulling out a small medi-pack, and chucking it at Jakob, "Make yourself useful, smart-ass, and get me a beer." Jakob dodges, and catches it, throwing it back and going to the fridge. Mr A. opens the little case and grabs antiseptic and cotton wool. He grabs my hand and dabs a little of the stuff on. It stings, but I'm ok.
"Geez dad, you really stocked up, didn't you? There's like, three six packs in here!" says Jakob with his head in the fridge, "And they're all weird... Are they Australian?"
"Oi!" I say indignantly, breaking out of my silence, "Aussie beer is good shit!" Mr Armstrong looks at me, grinning.
"I know, that's why I got it. That, and I couldn't find any of my usual brands. But is that an opinion you picked up from legals, or..."
"It's my own opinion." He raises his eyebrows.
"What? Come on, I'm legal in less than three years." I say defensively.
"Well, that's a good point. Still." He finshes dabbing at my cuts, and Jakob hands him a VB.
"So, Sophia," he says, cracking open the can, "How did you come by Jake? He didn't knock you down too, did he?" I giggle.
"No, I met him at lunch. Then he sorta saved me in the corridors. Then I walked him home because he couldn't remember where he lived." Mr Armstrong laughs.
"Nice, Jake." Jake blushes and punches him in the arm.
"Um, Jakob, Mr Armstrong-"
"Call me Billie Joe, Sophia."
"Well, Jakob and Billie Joe, I really have to go. Jack's probably blown up our apartment or something."
I walk down the street in a sort of haze, as my mind tries to straighten things out. I found a friend at school today, which in itself is pretty mind-boggling... I haven't had friends in years. And then I go over to his house, and find out that not only is he rich, but his father is punk rock legend, Billie Joe Armstrong. Who doesn't mind if I call him Billie Joe. Christ...
I start running, and a minute later I arrive in my street. I sprint to our apartment block, run up the stairs an open our door. Jack is sleeping on the couch, amongst a mass of toys. I pad over to him, and he opens one eye.
"You're late."
I giggle. He acts so much like a parent sometimes.
"I know. What have you been doing?"
"There was a war."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Between my soldiers, and your soft toys. And we won." I notice a few teddies tied to a couple of chairs with shoelace.
"Ok, ok. It's nice to know that you managed to have fun without destroying anything. For once. Where's Mum?"
"She's out with her new boyfriend..." Jack says sadly. I sigh. Mum goes out with a new guy almost every week. Its crazy, they never really want her. Every time she just spins a little tale in her head, that THIS one is different, THIS guy will be forever and ever. But they never are. She's never been lucky with men. She had me when she was fifteen. FIFTEEN. So she quit school, and then my Dad left her, the ass hole. He was something like 20 at the time. And her parents gave her a little pocket money until she was eighteen, and then turned their backs on her. So, she got a job down the local. She's been there for years now. Their best waitress and bar girl. Its kind of sad when you've held a job more than ten years, which is pretty hard to do, and the job is pouring beers for half-drunk guys trying to look down your top. I cuddle Jack, and he holds onto me like a cuddle toy.
"Why does she always have a boyfriend?" he sniffs, "Isn't she happy with us? Doesn't she like us anymore?"
"Oh, Jacky, 'couse she does... She just seems to need a man in her life too..."
"You know her Jake?" asks Mr Armstrong. I don't think I want to use his first name, because I really don't know him...
"Yeah, she goes to my school, is she ok?"
"I'm fine, Jakob," I say, sucking at my palm, "I haven't been crushed into the tarmac, in case you hadn't noticed." Mr Armstrong looks at me still sucking at the graze on my hands.
"We'd better get you cleaned up," he says, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me upright.
"No, seriously, I'm fine. I have to get back to my place, my little brother-"
"He'll be fine. If you don't clean those cuts they could get infected," he insists, walking me back up to their house, with Jakob trotting along beside.
"So what the hell did you DO, Dad?"
"Nothing," I sigh, "I ran across the road at the wrong moment."
"Thankyou..." says Mr Armstrong, looking at me.
"Sophia."
"Yes, thank you Sophia, even though it wasn't your fault, I would like to point out the fact that I am not a kid-killing psychopath."
"I didn't think y-" I start. He waves it away.
"No, not you- Jakob. How could you accuse your dad, Jakey?" He pouts.
He actually pouted.
Jakob rolls his eyes.
"Oh god Dad, please DON'T fucking pull that face in front of my friends. It looks so pathetic." They argue good-naturedly all the way to their front door, with me still in a bit of a daze of the sudden revelation that my new friend is the offspring of a rockstar, and Mr Armstrong steers me into the kitchen where he sits me on a stool, and starts rummaging through cupboards.
"Shit, where's that bloody medi-kit shit, Jake?" Jakob sits down beside me.
"I'm supposed to know this how? Fuck Dad, didn't YOU put it away this morning? Seriously, I reckon if you didn't have you driving license, you wouldn't remember your name."
"Ah," says his Dad, pulling out a small medi-pack, and chucking it at Jakob, "Make yourself useful, smart-ass, and get me a beer." Jakob dodges, and catches it, throwing it back and going to the fridge. Mr A. opens the little case and grabs antiseptic and cotton wool. He grabs my hand and dabs a little of the stuff on. It stings, but I'm ok.
"Geez dad, you really stocked up, didn't you? There's like, three six packs in here!" says Jakob with his head in the fridge, "And they're all weird... Are they Australian?"
"Oi!" I say indignantly, breaking out of my silence, "Aussie beer is good shit!" Mr Armstrong looks at me, grinning.
"I know, that's why I got it. That, and I couldn't find any of my usual brands. But is that an opinion you picked up from legals, or..."
"It's my own opinion." He raises his eyebrows.
"What? Come on, I'm legal in less than three years." I say defensively.
"Well, that's a good point. Still." He finshes dabbing at my cuts, and Jakob hands him a VB.
"So, Sophia," he says, cracking open the can, "How did you come by Jake? He didn't knock you down too, did he?" I giggle.
"No, I met him at lunch. Then he sorta saved me in the corridors. Then I walked him home because he couldn't remember where he lived." Mr Armstrong laughs.
"Nice, Jake." Jake blushes and punches him in the arm.
"Um, Jakob, Mr Armstrong-"
"Call me Billie Joe, Sophia."
"Well, Jakob and Billie Joe, I really have to go. Jack's probably blown up our apartment or something."
I walk down the street in a sort of haze, as my mind tries to straighten things out. I found a friend at school today, which in itself is pretty mind-boggling... I haven't had friends in years. And then I go over to his house, and find out that not only is he rich, but his father is punk rock legend, Billie Joe Armstrong. Who doesn't mind if I call him Billie Joe. Christ...
I start running, and a minute later I arrive in my street. I sprint to our apartment block, run up the stairs an open our door. Jack is sleeping on the couch, amongst a mass of toys. I pad over to him, and he opens one eye.
"You're late."
I giggle. He acts so much like a parent sometimes.
"I know. What have you been doing?"
"There was a war."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Between my soldiers, and your soft toys. And we won." I notice a few teddies tied to a couple of chairs with shoelace.
"Ok, ok. It's nice to know that you managed to have fun without destroying anything. For once. Where's Mum?"
"She's out with her new boyfriend..." Jack says sadly. I sigh. Mum goes out with a new guy almost every week. Its crazy, they never really want her. Every time she just spins a little tale in her head, that THIS one is different, THIS guy will be forever and ever. But they never are. She's never been lucky with men. She had me when she was fifteen. FIFTEEN. So she quit school, and then my Dad left her, the ass hole. He was something like 20 at the time. And her parents gave her a little pocket money until she was eighteen, and then turned their backs on her. So, she got a job down the local. She's been there for years now. Their best waitress and bar girl. Its kind of sad when you've held a job more than ten years, which is pretty hard to do, and the job is pouring beers for half-drunk guys trying to look down your top. I cuddle Jack, and he holds onto me like a cuddle toy.
"Why does she always have a boyfriend?" he sniffs, "Isn't she happy with us? Doesn't she like us anymore?"
"Oh, Jacky, 'couse she does... She just seems to need a man in her life too..."
