The Summer Of Our Lives, chapter 14
Keep in mind that the whole thing- meeting Green Day, I mean- had been kept secret from my mom, who is not exactly the most lenient in the discipline department (this is what Liv said back when we were trying to get to the Green Day concert). She, Peter, my dad, and everybody else we pretty much knew, knew nothing about the three famous rock stars we had had over at my house. So when my mom went stalking by the living room on the way to the kitchen to put her newly bought food away, she stopped, took one look at the scene before her, and narrowed her eyes. The warm gray (same as mine) became the color of cold steel.
"Well," she said dryly. "I was going to ask you when you wanted to go to the mall to shop for your brother's birthday present," -his birthday was next week- "but I can tell you it will be a very long time before you go to the mall, young lady." Her voice was shaking, she was so angry.
"Ummmm," I said pathetically. I had never seen her this mad. Well, and could you blame her? How would you feel, coming home from an innocent afternoon of grocery shopping to find your daughter and her friends entertaining a group of three strange men in their thirties, drinking Coke and playing Truth or Dare with them?
My mother narrowed her eyes at me. "What is going on here? CASSANDRA MADISON JENKINS, I WANT YOU TO TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!!" she exploded.
"I..." What could I say? That they were lost? That they were the greatest punk rock band in the world? Forget the fact that they were both true, my mom still wouldn't go for either of them. "I... ummmm..." I trailed off again.
Then, to my utter relief, Mike stepped forward. "Are you Mrs. Jenkins?" he asked. "My name is Mike Dirnt. This is Billie Joe Armstrong, and over there is Tre Cool." I prayed that Tre would not say or do anything stupid, and thankfully he didn't. Mike shook my mom's hand.
"Call me Helen," she said, looking at Mike, Tre, and Billie suspiciously.
"Um, Mom," I said, still trying to figure out if Mike's actions were a good thing or if they would just get me in more trouble than I was already in. "Yeah... They... um... they're in Green Day." I spit out the words as fast as I could.
"Green Day?" For a second my mom just looked confused. Then she said, "Green Day! That band you went to see back in July? YOU BROUGHT A ROCK BAND INTO MY HOUSE?" She wasn't angry anymore, just shocked.
At this point, my little brother Peter, who had been nonchalantly bouncing his bouncy ball as if complete strangers hung out with his sister every day, looked up suddenly and yelled, "COOL! You got me a ROCK BAND!" That's my brother for ya.
I just said, "They were lost. Don't ask."
My poor mother, who, by this time I think was convinced she was going insane, just went, "I don't think I want to know." With that, she picked up her grocery bag and went into the kitchen, probably trying to forget what just happened to her. Pete just sat down calmly on the couch next to Billie as if he met rock stars on a regular basis.
"So..." Billie said emphatically. "Where were we?"
"I was singing!" I yelled. I wasn't letting my nine minutes in the spotlight get away that easily. Pete settled back on the couch to hear me sing, and Kevin and Rob looked up expectantly, waiting to hear my semi-famous singing voice while Liv sat herself down at the old-fashioned piano that nobody ever played because we only had it because it was an antique; no one in my family played.
Tre clicked his drumsticks high above his head and "Jesus of Suburbia" began. Billie didn't have his guitar with him, and Mike didn't have his bass, either, but that didn't matter because we all knew the music by heart and could pretty much hear it in our heads. Tre drummed, and I sang with Billie.
I was grinning broadly. I, Cassandra Madison Jenkins, was singing a duet with Billie Joe Armstrong, lead singer and guitarist of Green Day. Life didn't get much better than this.
"Jesus of Suburbia" led into "City of the Damned," which became "I Don't Care." We sang, Tre drummed, and everybody else was captivated, even Mike.
For most of my life, I had been in the background of the scene. Nobody noticed me, thanks to my plain features, grayish eyes and curly brown hair, and the fact that I hardly ever talked in class and had no recognizable talent to speak of except singing. Even Kevin had hardly known I was alive till recently. But now I was basking my nine minutes eight seconds of glory. This was heaven.
Tre was pounding Peter's drum set harder than ever, and when we got to "Dearly Beloved," Mike started humming the bass line, which he obviously knew by heart. Liv and Rob joined in, followed by Kevin and Pete.
"Tales of Another Broken Home" began, and I was practically shouting the lyrics, with Billie backing me up. Naturally, my mom came in to see what was going on, just in time to hear me do a solo, which Liv struck up music on the piano for. I sang with what was possibly the most feeling I ever had in my singing voice. "I don't feel any shame, I won't apologize, when there ain't nowhere you can go." I raised the volume on my voice, and shouted out close to tears, "Running away from pain when you've been victimized; tales from another broken..." Liv held the note for emphasis and so did I. After the most dramatic pause of my life, everybody shouted, right on key, "Home!" and held the note there as I sang, "You're leaving... you're leaving... you're leaving... you're leaving home!"
I spun around happily, then finally collapsed on the couch, laughing. Kevin kissed me as I sat down. Jesus of suburbia may be leaving home, but I wanted to stay right here. And for the rest of the night, I did.
"Well," she said dryly. "I was going to ask you when you wanted to go to the mall to shop for your brother's birthday present," -his birthday was next week- "but I can tell you it will be a very long time before you go to the mall, young lady." Her voice was shaking, she was so angry.
"Ummmm," I said pathetically. I had never seen her this mad. Well, and could you blame her? How would you feel, coming home from an innocent afternoon of grocery shopping to find your daughter and her friends entertaining a group of three strange men in their thirties, drinking Coke and playing Truth or Dare with them?
My mother narrowed her eyes at me. "What is going on here? CASSANDRA MADISON JENKINS, I WANT YOU TO TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!!" she exploded.
"I..." What could I say? That they were lost? That they were the greatest punk rock band in the world? Forget the fact that they were both true, my mom still wouldn't go for either of them. "I... ummmm..." I trailed off again.
Then, to my utter relief, Mike stepped forward. "Are you Mrs. Jenkins?" he asked. "My name is Mike Dirnt. This is Billie Joe Armstrong, and over there is Tre Cool." I prayed that Tre would not say or do anything stupid, and thankfully he didn't. Mike shook my mom's hand.
"Call me Helen," she said, looking at Mike, Tre, and Billie suspiciously.
"Um, Mom," I said, still trying to figure out if Mike's actions were a good thing or if they would just get me in more trouble than I was already in. "Yeah... They... um... they're in Green Day." I spit out the words as fast as I could.
"Green Day?" For a second my mom just looked confused. Then she said, "Green Day! That band you went to see back in July? YOU BROUGHT A ROCK BAND INTO MY HOUSE?" She wasn't angry anymore, just shocked.
At this point, my little brother Peter, who had been nonchalantly bouncing his bouncy ball as if complete strangers hung out with his sister every day, looked up suddenly and yelled, "COOL! You got me a ROCK BAND!" That's my brother for ya.
I just said, "They were lost. Don't ask."
My poor mother, who, by this time I think was convinced she was going insane, just went, "I don't think I want to know." With that, she picked up her grocery bag and went into the kitchen, probably trying to forget what just happened to her. Pete just sat down calmly on the couch next to Billie as if he met rock stars on a regular basis.
"So..." Billie said emphatically. "Where were we?"
"I was singing!" I yelled. I wasn't letting my nine minutes in the spotlight get away that easily. Pete settled back on the couch to hear me sing, and Kevin and Rob looked up expectantly, waiting to hear my semi-famous singing voice while Liv sat herself down at the old-fashioned piano that nobody ever played because we only had it because it was an antique; no one in my family played.
Tre clicked his drumsticks high above his head and "Jesus of Suburbia" began. Billie didn't have his guitar with him, and Mike didn't have his bass, either, but that didn't matter because we all knew the music by heart and could pretty much hear it in our heads. Tre drummed, and I sang with Billie.
I was grinning broadly. I, Cassandra Madison Jenkins, was singing a duet with Billie Joe Armstrong, lead singer and guitarist of Green Day. Life didn't get much better than this.
"Jesus of Suburbia" led into "City of the Damned," which became "I Don't Care." We sang, Tre drummed, and everybody else was captivated, even Mike.
For most of my life, I had been in the background of the scene. Nobody noticed me, thanks to my plain features, grayish eyes and curly brown hair, and the fact that I hardly ever talked in class and had no recognizable talent to speak of except singing. Even Kevin had hardly known I was alive till recently. But now I was basking my nine minutes eight seconds of glory. This was heaven.
Tre was pounding Peter's drum set harder than ever, and when we got to "Dearly Beloved," Mike started humming the bass line, which he obviously knew by heart. Liv and Rob joined in, followed by Kevin and Pete.
"Tales of Another Broken Home" began, and I was practically shouting the lyrics, with Billie backing me up. Naturally, my mom came in to see what was going on, just in time to hear me do a solo, which Liv struck up music on the piano for. I sang with what was possibly the most feeling I ever had in my singing voice. "I don't feel any shame, I won't apologize, when there ain't nowhere you can go." I raised the volume on my voice, and shouted out close to tears, "Running away from pain when you've been victimized; tales from another broken..." Liv held the note for emphasis and so did I. After the most dramatic pause of my life, everybody shouted, right on key, "Home!" and held the note there as I sang, "You're leaving... you're leaving... you're leaving... you're leaving home!"
I spun around happily, then finally collapsed on the couch, laughing. Kevin kissed me as I sat down. Jesus of suburbia may be leaving home, but I wanted to stay right here. And for the rest of the night, I did.
