'Cause I'm a Million Miles Away, chapter 1
Pinole High Graduation Night
June 4, 1990
I never agreed to come here. But after all, Mike IS one of my best friends, right?
My name is Sam. I, unlike all the other million Sams in the world, am a woman. Yes, a woman, with a common boys name. That's all you need to know for now, since I was busy at Mike's graduation. Billie Joe, one of my best friends, was expelled from this school 2 years ago. I couldn't afford a real video camera, so instead I drew what was going on and took notes.
I could tell Mike was extremely bored. He swirled the tassle on his hat around his finger while the principal announced the graduates' names in a slow, monotone voice. He blew a loud bubble with the 5 sticks of bubble gum he shoved in his mouth previous of the ceremony just for the shits and giggles of annoying the whole senior class. I drew a stick of gum in the little notebook and circled it.
"Michael Ryan Pritchard..." he shuddered as he waddled to the platform, his hands stuffed deep in his gown's pockets.
"Congratulations..." Mike blew a nasty, obnoxious pink bubble when he shook the principal's hand, causing me to giggle up on my top bleacher. I whooped as he walked right over to the bleachers and gestured me to come down. The teachers eyed us as we left early.
"Skipping that pussy-hat throwing shit... I'll throw my hat on the ground and spit on it," Mike said, holding the door open for me. I thanked him with a nod of my head.
Billie, being expelled, was not allowed to attend Mike's graduation. It broke his heart, so instead, he insisted on parking his blue 67 Ford Fairlane right in the middle of the grounds, where he we get totally stoned and go home to party with us.
Which, to my disgust, was exactly what he did, except on the way out he offered his pipe to Mike who shook his head.
"I'm quitting for a bit, it's messing with my poor brain, Joe."
Billie Joe threw himself in the back of the truck. Well, actually, Mike and I had to throw him there because we refused to let him drive when he was so high.
Mike, putting the key in the ignition, scratched his face and drove off the grounds and off the curb with a 'thump' making the blonde in the bed start screaming something about being nice to his baby.
"This thing's junk, I don't know why he cares," Mike said bitterly, lighting a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth.
I grimaced. "You know, cigarettes have the equilavance in pot's... Well... What's the real word for 'unhealthyness'?"
Mike shrugged. "How the fuck am I supposed to know?"
"You just graduated."
"What does a piece of paper have to prove I'm good at something?"
"Well, let's take your birth certificate for example," I smile sarcastically. "You're good at life, aren't you? That proves that it-" I point to his diploma, "proves you're smart."
A scowl from the graduate. "Stop being wittier than me."
"I can't help it. I would make a joke about that idiotic dress you're wearing, but my arm hurts." He sharply turns a corner onto 7th street, passing Gilman on the way past.
"It's a gown," he snarled. "But I guess you can make fun of it. Have you NOT made fun of me for something yet today?"
"Yesterday's 5 o' clock shadow," I giggled, supressing laughter at my own joke.
"Shuttup, Sam," he said, ruffling my hair and pulling into Billie Joe's driveway.
You see, I live with these guys. I was the lone wolf of my family, if you will. I was kicked out of my house when my grandma died of age and my stepdad (whom wasn't exactly fond of me) couldn't take me in with his new girlfriend. I had known Billie and Mike for a few weeks, so I stayed on their back porch. Then, after getting to know them more, I moved in. We all sleep in the same room, but no, nothing happens. Unless we're alone.
Just kidding.
But anyway, we dragged Billie out of the truck (who was slowly turning sober, I could tell by the blank expression on his face.) and hauled him into the house.
I threw Billie Joe on the couch and sat at his feet, while Mike lifted his gown over his head, revealing a pinstripe button up shirt with a green tank under it.
"You dressed nicely for one of the most important days of your life," I pointed out, adjusting to Billie's legs on my lap as he rolled around.
"Sure did," Mike said proudly.
And one of the joyous things in the house was Billie's mom, Ollie. Everytime she was around she treated us like her own children. Not that I'm complaining or anything...
"Oooh, Mikey, you've finally graduated!" she squealed, ruffling his hair. Billie Joe scowled.
"Ma, he's not ten anymore, he's fucki-" SMACK.
Like all parents, Billie Joe's mother detested all the things he did. Whether it be dropping out of school for a garage bands or sniffing sharpies outside the corner store, she wouldn't have it.
"Mike... He's not ten, he's 18..." Billie said, rubbing his face gingerly.
"That's better," Ollie said, beaming. "You don't have to make dinner tonight, guys. Don't worry about it."
In order to live in the house, Mike and I don't pay rent, but we do make dinner every other day and every other sunday. It's not as bad as it sounds, because we usually scrape something up at Gilman after a show's being cleaned up, or not eat anything because Ollie's at work and we're lazy. And if she is home, we usually make some sandwiches, which I've had enough of...
And guess what was on our plates? Ham sandwiches. Mmm, fifth time this week!
I shouldn't be complaining, though... After all, she lets me sleep in the same room as the guys. Not that I'm complaining.
Just KIDDING...
June 4, 1990
I never agreed to come here. But after all, Mike IS one of my best friends, right?
My name is Sam. I, unlike all the other million Sams in the world, am a woman. Yes, a woman, with a common boys name. That's all you need to know for now, since I was busy at Mike's graduation. Billie Joe, one of my best friends, was expelled from this school 2 years ago. I couldn't afford a real video camera, so instead I drew what was going on and took notes.
I could tell Mike was extremely bored. He swirled the tassle on his hat around his finger while the principal announced the graduates' names in a slow, monotone voice. He blew a loud bubble with the 5 sticks of bubble gum he shoved in his mouth previous of the ceremony just for the shits and giggles of annoying the whole senior class. I drew a stick of gum in the little notebook and circled it.
"Michael Ryan Pritchard..." he shuddered as he waddled to the platform, his hands stuffed deep in his gown's pockets.
"Congratulations..." Mike blew a nasty, obnoxious pink bubble when he shook the principal's hand, causing me to giggle up on my top bleacher. I whooped as he walked right over to the bleachers and gestured me to come down. The teachers eyed us as we left early.
"Skipping that pussy-hat throwing shit... I'll throw my hat on the ground and spit on it," Mike said, holding the door open for me. I thanked him with a nod of my head.
Billie, being expelled, was not allowed to attend Mike's graduation. It broke his heart, so instead, he insisted on parking his blue 67 Ford Fairlane right in the middle of the grounds, where he we get totally stoned and go home to party with us.
Which, to my disgust, was exactly what he did, except on the way out he offered his pipe to Mike who shook his head.
"I'm quitting for a bit, it's messing with my poor brain, Joe."
Billie Joe threw himself in the back of the truck. Well, actually, Mike and I had to throw him there because we refused to let him drive when he was so high.
Mike, putting the key in the ignition, scratched his face and drove off the grounds and off the curb with a 'thump' making the blonde in the bed start screaming something about being nice to his baby.
"This thing's junk, I don't know why he cares," Mike said bitterly, lighting a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth.
I grimaced. "You know, cigarettes have the equilavance in pot's... Well... What's the real word for 'unhealthyness'?"
Mike shrugged. "How the fuck am I supposed to know?"
"You just graduated."
"What does a piece of paper have to prove I'm good at something?"
"Well, let's take your birth certificate for example," I smile sarcastically. "You're good at life, aren't you? That proves that it-" I point to his diploma, "proves you're smart."
A scowl from the graduate. "Stop being wittier than me."
"I can't help it. I would make a joke about that idiotic dress you're wearing, but my arm hurts." He sharply turns a corner onto 7th street, passing Gilman on the way past.
"It's a gown," he snarled. "But I guess you can make fun of it. Have you NOT made fun of me for something yet today?"
"Yesterday's 5 o' clock shadow," I giggled, supressing laughter at my own joke.
"Shuttup, Sam," he said, ruffling my hair and pulling into Billie Joe's driveway.
You see, I live with these guys. I was the lone wolf of my family, if you will. I was kicked out of my house when my grandma died of age and my stepdad (whom wasn't exactly fond of me) couldn't take me in with his new girlfriend. I had known Billie and Mike for a few weeks, so I stayed on their back porch. Then, after getting to know them more, I moved in. We all sleep in the same room, but no, nothing happens. Unless we're alone.
Just kidding.
But anyway, we dragged Billie out of the truck (who was slowly turning sober, I could tell by the blank expression on his face.) and hauled him into the house.
I threw Billie Joe on the couch and sat at his feet, while Mike lifted his gown over his head, revealing a pinstripe button up shirt with a green tank under it.
"You dressed nicely for one of the most important days of your life," I pointed out, adjusting to Billie's legs on my lap as he rolled around.
"Sure did," Mike said proudly.
And one of the joyous things in the house was Billie's mom, Ollie. Everytime she was around she treated us like her own children. Not that I'm complaining or anything...
"Oooh, Mikey, you've finally graduated!" she squealed, ruffling his hair. Billie Joe scowled.
"Ma, he's not ten anymore, he's fucki-" SMACK.
Like all parents, Billie Joe's mother detested all the things he did. Whether it be dropping out of school for a garage bands or sniffing sharpies outside the corner store, she wouldn't have it.
"Mike... He's not ten, he's 18..." Billie said, rubbing his face gingerly.
"That's better," Ollie said, beaming. "You don't have to make dinner tonight, guys. Don't worry about it."
In order to live in the house, Mike and I don't pay rent, but we do make dinner every other day and every other sunday. It's not as bad as it sounds, because we usually scrape something up at Gilman after a show's being cleaned up, or not eat anything because Ollie's at work and we're lazy. And if she is home, we usually make some sandwiches, which I've had enough of...
And guess what was on our plates? Ham sandwiches. Mmm, fifth time this week!
I shouldn't be complaining, though... After all, she lets me sleep in the same room as the guys. Not that I'm complaining.
Just KIDDING...
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