Wasted Youth, chapter 1
I sat motionless, feet folded underneath me, staring blankly at the blaring television. It was so strange. Mouths were moving, but I was unable to determine what the words were. I've never been in such a trance. At least, never before Friday, April 19th...
______________________April 19th____________________________________________
I stood, not breathing, looking around at all the cords, amplifiers, and instrument cases. I couldn't believe where I was. Not only was I at the grand finale of Blink-182's "Always" tour, but I was backstage! I had won a contest I had entered on the internet... and I never actually believed that I could win. In a matter of minutes, I would be inches from Tom Delonge, my hero. I waited for the opening band to finish... I turned to my friend Mallory, who I had invited to come with me, since the prize package included two people.
"What is the name of this band?" I inquired. She stood for a moment, thinking, and then turned to me.
"Shit, I don't remember. Green something..."
"Green?"
"Yeah, what?"
"Well, that's a random color."
"God, Elizabeth, you are so stupid," Mal told me.
"Thanks a lot. I can't think. Oh my God... oh my God..." I said. Mal turned to look at what I was looking at, when she too began chanting, oh my God, oh my God. Tom Delonge walked out towards the stage entrance. He looked at us and smiled and nodded, and we did the same. We watched him as climbed the stair entrance.
"Rip it up Billie!" he screamed. An amazing guitar solo came pounding from the speakers. I was definatly impressed, being an amature guitarist. Then the solo and the song came to an end. A voice echoed throughout the arena.
"This will be our last song! I know all you people know this one, so sing along!" I thought to myself, "No, probably not, seeing as how I have absolutly no idea what your band is even called." I was proven wrong however, as the clear voice sang the words to a song I've known for several years, but never knew the name or the artist.
"Do you have the time to listen to me whine, about nothing and everything all at once?" I sang along, laughing at the lyrics as I always had. The song ended, and the sound of clearing the stage could be heard. The audience chanted, "Green Day, Green Day, Green Day!" Mal turned to me.
"Well, I guess you got your answer," she said.
"Yeah. That's a weird name, but then again, so is Blink-182. That was a pretty impressive performance, don't ya think?" I asked.
"Yeah, definatly." My attention left the conversation, however, as my eyes turned to a handsome man with black hair and shocking green eyes that seemed to penetrate my every level of though. The black-haired man held a guitar, and was walking off the stage, followed by a man tapping drumsticks on everything, anything, and anyone, who was also followed by a man with a bass. "So this is Green Day" I thought to myself. The black-haired man caught my gaze, and turned to walk toward Mal and myself. I found myself breathing harder, and was suprised. It's not like I even knew but one song by Green Day, anyway. The black-haired man stopped a foot in front of me and held out his hand.
"My name is Billie," he said. I put my hand in his and shook it.
"Mine's Elizabeth, and my friend here is Mallory."
"You can call me Mal, though, everyone else does," she said, as he extended his hand towards her and she took it and shook it.
"Did you two enjoy the show?" He asked, as the soundcheck blared in my ears. He seemed to understand that the amplifier next to me was an annoyance. "Let's go back into the lounge. It's extremely fucking loud in here, as you can tell. We can come back out here when the show starts." I smiled thankfully as Mal and I followed him back into the deepest part of backstage, where no one was allowed without clearance from the band members themselves. The security guard looked curiously at Mal and me, even with Billie leading us into the room.
The room was empty, aside from the two other members of Green Day. The man whom I presumed was the drummer jumped up and ran to greet Mal and me. Mal wore the strangest expression on her face as he embraced her with a squeeze. He released her, and as she stood still with the odd look on her face. I braced myself as he hugged me the same way. Mal began to laugh, so I figured that I wore the same look as she had. He let go of me.
"I'm Trè Cool!" he said, saying Trè Cool as if it were read "traycool."
"I'm Elizabeth," I repeated.
"I'm Mallory, but call me Mal," she said.
"That's so incredibly awesome," Trè Cool said. "I'm so happy for you." The bassist stood and walked towards Mal and me, extending his hand as Billie had.
"Mike Dirnt," he said.
"Elizabeth Cameron," I said, taking his hand and shaking it, and Mal did the same as she told him her name.
"Sit down, please," Billie said. Mike sat in a chair, and Mal sat in the one beside it. Trè Cool flopped onto the couch, and Billie motioned for me to sit between himself and Trè Cool. I did, and Billie descended onto the couch as well. I turned to Trè Cool, not knowing what to say to anyone, especially Billie.
"So, is your name Trè Cool, or is Cool your last name?" I asked. Billie and Mike laughed. Trè Cool blushed a little bit.
"Actually, his name is Frank Edwin Wright III," said Billie. I looked at Frank Edwin Wright III, previously known as Trè Cool, and laughed. "Call him Trè, though, Cool is just his adopted last name, as Trè is his adopted first name."
"Is your name really Billie?" I asked.
"Actually, it's Billie Joe Armstrong, but yes, it's my actual name," he responded with a smile that sent a chill down my spine. "Whatever this feeling is, I like it," I thought to myself.
I looked at Mike Dirnt, who knew what I was going to ask.
"My birth name is Michael Ryan Pritchard."
"Thanks for clearing that up for me," I said. I switched my gaze from Mike to Mal, who was looking at Billie in an odd way. Not in an angry manner, but in a more curious sense.
"So, how did you wind up backstage?" Billie asked me.
"Well, I entered a contest on the internet, won it, and was allowed to take a guest. So here we are!" I said cheerfully.
"How old might you girls be?" Trè asked. I looked at him in a weird way before answering.
"Well, I'm 17, and she's 16. I begged her mom to let me pull her out of school today. She finally agreed," I said. Mal laughed.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
"Umm, a shit splat town in Arkansas," I answered. Billie let out a laugh. I watched him laugh, and he looked so happy. I looked down to his shoulders, and his tatooed arms, and then at his hands. I studied his left hand, noticing a wedding ring. I felt extreme disappointment, and I didn't know why.
"Did your mom just let you go then?" Mike asked me. Before I could answer, Trè farted. I gasped, and leaned away from him, and into Billie. It wasn't by design, but it worked out, as Billie protectively put his arms around me, as to shield me from the flatulance. I felt my heart flutter. He was so warm, and a little damp still from the performance. I pulled away from him just a little bit, to see what he would do. He still held me, so I pulled harder and broke his grasp.
"To answer your question Mike, I moved out when I was 16. I dropped out of school, and my mother disowned me. I moved into a run-down apartment in a town near where my "parents," if you like that word, live. School was so pointless, I didn't see a reason to continue it any longer than I had to. My mother calls it 'wasted youth' or something like that," I said.
"Like I always say, if school is practice for the future, and practice makes perfect, and nobody's perfect, then why practice?" said Billie.
"Exactly," I said. I looked up at Billie, and he looked back down at me. It was so unplanned, so totally the wrong moment. It was so screwed up, it was perfect. Billie leaned forward, and pulled me to him. Our lips were a cenimeter apart, when the security guard entered the room and threw Billie a cellular phone.
"Adrienne called. It showed up as a missed call." Billie stood up and left the room, as Mike, Trè, and Mal stared at me.
"WHAT?" I half asked, half screamed.
"Dude! He almost cheated! HAHAHAHAHA that scumbag! Ten points for Billie! And with a minor!" Trè blurted out. Mike threw a worn out magazine at him.
"Shut up retard! Adrienne can hear you, you know?" Mike said.
"Who's Adrienne?" I asked, horribly confused and dreading the answer.
"Billie's wife. They have two sons, too, Joey and Jakob," Mike said. Mal sat in silence. She hardly ever spoke.
"Ooooh," I said. Then a thought popped into my head. "Oh holy shit!" I exclaimed. Tom Delonge, Travis Barker, and Mark Hoppus walked into the room and sat on the couch on the other side of the room.
"Is it over?" asked Trè.
"Yeah," Mark replied, with a sigh of relief.
"Whoops," I said. Travis looked at me.
"Oh Trè, is she your new squeeze?" asked Travis.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh...." Trè looked at me, and embraced me again. Then he looked back at Travis.
"Does that make her my squeeze?" he asked. I laughed, just now understanding the joke. I grabbed Trè's watch rather violently, and looked at the time. It read 12:30 am.
"Mal, it's half past midnight, we'd better go." I stood up and adjusted my clothing, and Mal stood too. Travis, Tom, and Mark shook our hands and apologized for not getting to talk with us. Trè, who seemed to have a knack for volunteering people for things they don't want to do, had an idea.
"Why don't we meet up tomorrow?" he asked. I looked at him. "Like, Travis, Tom, Mark, Trè, Mike, Billie, Mal, and you. Together, somewhere."
"Well no duh," said Tom. "How about at Geffen? We're working on some new matieral, and we could sample it to you two girls, and get professional opinions from Trè, Mike, and Billie." I was pleased with this proposal, and agreed to meet them there tomorrow at noon. As Mal and I left the room, Mal bumped into Billie, who was entering the room.
"Goodbye!" He said, flashing a mischievious grin in my direction. Wondering what that meant, I followed Mal out the door and into the dark night.
______________________April 19th____________________________________________
I stood, not breathing, looking around at all the cords, amplifiers, and instrument cases. I couldn't believe where I was. Not only was I at the grand finale of Blink-182's "Always" tour, but I was backstage! I had won a contest I had entered on the internet... and I never actually believed that I could win. In a matter of minutes, I would be inches from Tom Delonge, my hero. I waited for the opening band to finish... I turned to my friend Mallory, who I had invited to come with me, since the prize package included two people.
"What is the name of this band?" I inquired. She stood for a moment, thinking, and then turned to me.
"Shit, I don't remember. Green something..."
"Green?"
"Yeah, what?"
"Well, that's a random color."
"God, Elizabeth, you are so stupid," Mal told me.
"Thanks a lot. I can't think. Oh my God... oh my God..." I said. Mal turned to look at what I was looking at, when she too began chanting, oh my God, oh my God. Tom Delonge walked out towards the stage entrance. He looked at us and smiled and nodded, and we did the same. We watched him as climbed the stair entrance.
"Rip it up Billie!" he screamed. An amazing guitar solo came pounding from the speakers. I was definatly impressed, being an amature guitarist. Then the solo and the song came to an end. A voice echoed throughout the arena.
"This will be our last song! I know all you people know this one, so sing along!" I thought to myself, "No, probably not, seeing as how I have absolutly no idea what your band is even called." I was proven wrong however, as the clear voice sang the words to a song I've known for several years, but never knew the name or the artist.
"Do you have the time to listen to me whine, about nothing and everything all at once?" I sang along, laughing at the lyrics as I always had. The song ended, and the sound of clearing the stage could be heard. The audience chanted, "Green Day, Green Day, Green Day!" Mal turned to me.
"Well, I guess you got your answer," she said.
"Yeah. That's a weird name, but then again, so is Blink-182. That was a pretty impressive performance, don't ya think?" I asked.
"Yeah, definatly." My attention left the conversation, however, as my eyes turned to a handsome man with black hair and shocking green eyes that seemed to penetrate my every level of though. The black-haired man held a guitar, and was walking off the stage, followed by a man tapping drumsticks on everything, anything, and anyone, who was also followed by a man with a bass. "So this is Green Day" I thought to myself. The black-haired man caught my gaze, and turned to walk toward Mal and myself. I found myself breathing harder, and was suprised. It's not like I even knew but one song by Green Day, anyway. The black-haired man stopped a foot in front of me and held out his hand.
"My name is Billie," he said. I put my hand in his and shook it.
"Mine's Elizabeth, and my friend here is Mallory."
"You can call me Mal, though, everyone else does," she said, as he extended his hand towards her and she took it and shook it.
"Did you two enjoy the show?" He asked, as the soundcheck blared in my ears. He seemed to understand that the amplifier next to me was an annoyance. "Let's go back into the lounge. It's extremely fucking loud in here, as you can tell. We can come back out here when the show starts." I smiled thankfully as Mal and I followed him back into the deepest part of backstage, where no one was allowed without clearance from the band members themselves. The security guard looked curiously at Mal and me, even with Billie leading us into the room.
The room was empty, aside from the two other members of Green Day. The man whom I presumed was the drummer jumped up and ran to greet Mal and me. Mal wore the strangest expression on her face as he embraced her with a squeeze. He released her, and as she stood still with the odd look on her face. I braced myself as he hugged me the same way. Mal began to laugh, so I figured that I wore the same look as she had. He let go of me.
"I'm Trè Cool!" he said, saying Trè Cool as if it were read "traycool."
"I'm Elizabeth," I repeated.
"I'm Mallory, but call me Mal," she said.
"That's so incredibly awesome," Trè Cool said. "I'm so happy for you." The bassist stood and walked towards Mal and me, extending his hand as Billie had.
"Mike Dirnt," he said.
"Elizabeth Cameron," I said, taking his hand and shaking it, and Mal did the same as she told him her name.
"Sit down, please," Billie said. Mike sat in a chair, and Mal sat in the one beside it. Trè Cool flopped onto the couch, and Billie motioned for me to sit between himself and Trè Cool. I did, and Billie descended onto the couch as well. I turned to Trè Cool, not knowing what to say to anyone, especially Billie.
"So, is your name Trè Cool, or is Cool your last name?" I asked. Billie and Mike laughed. Trè Cool blushed a little bit.
"Actually, his name is Frank Edwin Wright III," said Billie. I looked at Frank Edwin Wright III, previously known as Trè Cool, and laughed. "Call him Trè, though, Cool is just his adopted last name, as Trè is his adopted first name."
"Is your name really Billie?" I asked.
"Actually, it's Billie Joe Armstrong, but yes, it's my actual name," he responded with a smile that sent a chill down my spine. "Whatever this feeling is, I like it," I thought to myself.
I looked at Mike Dirnt, who knew what I was going to ask.
"My birth name is Michael Ryan Pritchard."
"Thanks for clearing that up for me," I said. I switched my gaze from Mike to Mal, who was looking at Billie in an odd way. Not in an angry manner, but in a more curious sense.
"So, how did you wind up backstage?" Billie asked me.
"Well, I entered a contest on the internet, won it, and was allowed to take a guest. So here we are!" I said cheerfully.
"How old might you girls be?" Trè asked. I looked at him in a weird way before answering.
"Well, I'm 17, and she's 16. I begged her mom to let me pull her out of school today. She finally agreed," I said. Mal laughed.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
"Umm, a shit splat town in Arkansas," I answered. Billie let out a laugh. I watched him laugh, and he looked so happy. I looked down to his shoulders, and his tatooed arms, and then at his hands. I studied his left hand, noticing a wedding ring. I felt extreme disappointment, and I didn't know why.
"Did your mom just let you go then?" Mike asked me. Before I could answer, Trè farted. I gasped, and leaned away from him, and into Billie. It wasn't by design, but it worked out, as Billie protectively put his arms around me, as to shield me from the flatulance. I felt my heart flutter. He was so warm, and a little damp still from the performance. I pulled away from him just a little bit, to see what he would do. He still held me, so I pulled harder and broke his grasp.
"To answer your question Mike, I moved out when I was 16. I dropped out of school, and my mother disowned me. I moved into a run-down apartment in a town near where my "parents," if you like that word, live. School was so pointless, I didn't see a reason to continue it any longer than I had to. My mother calls it 'wasted youth' or something like that," I said.
"Like I always say, if school is practice for the future, and practice makes perfect, and nobody's perfect, then why practice?" said Billie.
"Exactly," I said. I looked up at Billie, and he looked back down at me. It was so unplanned, so totally the wrong moment. It was so screwed up, it was perfect. Billie leaned forward, and pulled me to him. Our lips were a cenimeter apart, when the security guard entered the room and threw Billie a cellular phone.
"Adrienne called. It showed up as a missed call." Billie stood up and left the room, as Mike, Trè, and Mal stared at me.
"WHAT?" I half asked, half screamed.
"Dude! He almost cheated! HAHAHAHAHA that scumbag! Ten points for Billie! And with a minor!" Trè blurted out. Mike threw a worn out magazine at him.
"Shut up retard! Adrienne can hear you, you know?" Mike said.
"Who's Adrienne?" I asked, horribly confused and dreading the answer.
"Billie's wife. They have two sons, too, Joey and Jakob," Mike said. Mal sat in silence. She hardly ever spoke.
"Ooooh," I said. Then a thought popped into my head. "Oh holy shit!" I exclaimed. Tom Delonge, Travis Barker, and Mark Hoppus walked into the room and sat on the couch on the other side of the room.
"Is it over?" asked Trè.
"Yeah," Mark replied, with a sigh of relief.
"Whoops," I said. Travis looked at me.
"Oh Trè, is she your new squeeze?" asked Travis.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh...." Trè looked at me, and embraced me again. Then he looked back at Travis.
"Does that make her my squeeze?" he asked. I laughed, just now understanding the joke. I grabbed Trè's watch rather violently, and looked at the time. It read 12:30 am.
"Mal, it's half past midnight, we'd better go." I stood up and adjusted my clothing, and Mal stood too. Travis, Tom, and Mark shook our hands and apologized for not getting to talk with us. Trè, who seemed to have a knack for volunteering people for things they don't want to do, had an idea.
"Why don't we meet up tomorrow?" he asked. I looked at him. "Like, Travis, Tom, Mark, Trè, Mike, Billie, Mal, and you. Together, somewhere."
"Well no duh," said Tom. "How about at Geffen? We're working on some new matieral, and we could sample it to you two girls, and get professional opinions from Trè, Mike, and Billie." I was pleased with this proposal, and agreed to meet them there tomorrow at noon. As Mal and I left the room, Mal bumped into Billie, who was entering the room.
"Goodbye!" He said, flashing a mischievious grin in my direction. Wondering what that meant, I followed Mal out the door and into the dark night.
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