We're Just Melodramatic Fools (Billie Joe Armstrong), chapter 1
I stared out the car window, and sighed. On my list of things I'd want to do, moving to California wasn't even on it. Call me crazy if you want, but I preferred living in the apartment building in Texas. But my mother decided that an apartment building wasn't the proper place for raising a child. Too bad she didn't think of that when I was still a child.
"Cheer up, Skye. You'll love it here!" My mother said. I rolled my eyes. I didn't 'love' anything, anyone, or anyplace. I barely even 'liked' anything. I had been a friendless loner my entire life, and personally, I liked it that way.
"PUT A SMILE ON YOUR FACE! AND MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE! PUT A-" My mom belted out. I covered my ears with my hands and started screaming for her to shut up. SHe didn't of course. Maybe she would've if she actually heard me, but her loud, screechy singing made it impossible for anyone to hear anything.
"We're here, Skye!" My mom sang as we pulled up into the driveway of a huge blue house. My jaw droped, but I quickly closed my mouth so Mom wouldn't see and start acting all 'I told you so-ish. ' I got out of the car and went inside. All of our stuff was already there because Dad came to Cali a few days before and moved all of our stuff in for us.
I ran downstairs, where my room was. Surprisingly, Dad actaully made my room look pretty cool... Well, cool if you count 'emo' or 'gothic' as cool. The walls were painted black, and the shelves on my walls were painted blood red. My mutated Barbie Dolls were sitting on the shelves, along with books and CD's. Yes, I have mutated Barbie's. I grew out of them at age 7, and started making them deformed and burnt. It's quite fun, actually.
Posters were scattered all around. There was Queen (of course), David Bowie, The Remones, R. E. M, and just about any other good rock bands in this world.
"Wow, Dad. You out-did yourself." I muttered, even though I knew he couldn't hear me.
"Skylar! We have company! Come on up!" My dad yelled. All my happy feelings were drained out of me, which was kind of a shame, because I was almost never happy. I was extremly anti-social, and hated meeting new people. But if I was to ignore my parents, they'd do something embarrassing, and I'd never forgive myself for ignoring them. Ever.
"Comming!" I yelled back.
I ran upstairs and went into the living room, where Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch, talking to a lady and a kid who looked about my age.
"Ah, Skye, there you are. These are our new neighbors, the Armstrongs." Mom said. I raised an eyebrow, and had to keep myself from asking if they were related to Neil Armstrong.
The lady smiled at me and shook my hand. Then she nudged the boy, who rolled his eyes, then extended his hand. I smirked and shook my head.
"You don't have to act polite around me." I said. The boy seemed a bit surprised. Either he didn't expect me to say that, or he was just suprised that there was no emotion in my voice what-so-ever. I liked talking in mono-tone when I wanted pepole to know I was either unhappy, or I couldn't care less about something. In this case, it was for both reasons.
"Uh... I'm Billie Joe." The boy said. I nodded. Obviously, he already knew my name, so there was no use in me introducing myself.
I had every intention of hating Billie Joe, but from the start, I knew I couldn't. There was somthing about him... His messy, yet gorgous short dark hair, the way he stood there, staring at me... His wonderful smile. Get ahold of yourself, Skye! Don't go falling for a guy you just met! But it's easier said then done.
"Cheer up, Skye. You'll love it here!" My mother said. I rolled my eyes. I didn't 'love' anything, anyone, or anyplace. I barely even 'liked' anything. I had been a friendless loner my entire life, and personally, I liked it that way.
"PUT A SMILE ON YOUR FACE! AND MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE! PUT A-" My mom belted out. I covered my ears with my hands and started screaming for her to shut up. SHe didn't of course. Maybe she would've if she actually heard me, but her loud, screechy singing made it impossible for anyone to hear anything.
"We're here, Skye!" My mom sang as we pulled up into the driveway of a huge blue house. My jaw droped, but I quickly closed my mouth so Mom wouldn't see and start acting all 'I told you so-ish. ' I got out of the car and went inside. All of our stuff was already there because Dad came to Cali a few days before and moved all of our stuff in for us.
I ran downstairs, where my room was. Surprisingly, Dad actaully made my room look pretty cool... Well, cool if you count 'emo' or 'gothic' as cool. The walls were painted black, and the shelves on my walls were painted blood red. My mutated Barbie Dolls were sitting on the shelves, along with books and CD's. Yes, I have mutated Barbie's. I grew out of them at age 7, and started making them deformed and burnt. It's quite fun, actually.
Posters were scattered all around. There was Queen (of course), David Bowie, The Remones, R. E. M, and just about any other good rock bands in this world.
"Wow, Dad. You out-did yourself." I muttered, even though I knew he couldn't hear me.
"Skylar! We have company! Come on up!" My dad yelled. All my happy feelings were drained out of me, which was kind of a shame, because I was almost never happy. I was extremly anti-social, and hated meeting new people. But if I was to ignore my parents, they'd do something embarrassing, and I'd never forgive myself for ignoring them. Ever.
"Comming!" I yelled back.
I ran upstairs and went into the living room, where Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch, talking to a lady and a kid who looked about my age.
"Ah, Skye, there you are. These are our new neighbors, the Armstrongs." Mom said. I raised an eyebrow, and had to keep myself from asking if they were related to Neil Armstrong.
The lady smiled at me and shook my hand. Then she nudged the boy, who rolled his eyes, then extended his hand. I smirked and shook my head.
"You don't have to act polite around me." I said. The boy seemed a bit surprised. Either he didn't expect me to say that, or he was just suprised that there was no emotion in my voice what-so-ever. I liked talking in mono-tone when I wanted pepole to know I was either unhappy, or I couldn't care less about something. In this case, it was for both reasons.
"Uh... I'm Billie Joe." The boy said. I nodded. Obviously, he already knew my name, so there was no use in me introducing myself.
I had every intention of hating Billie Joe, but from the start, I knew I couldn't. There was somthing about him... His messy, yet gorgous short dark hair, the way he stood there, staring at me... His wonderful smile. Get ahold of yourself, Skye! Don't go falling for a guy you just met! But it's easier said then done.
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