Untitled, chapter 1

Billie Joe Armstrong, ten years old, was heading for home after school. It had been a pain for him as usual, just tough. He always had to struggle and every 2.30pm was a sigh of relief. This kid, Billie Joe, was something that you wouldn't see everyday. Maybe he looked like any kid with his curly, brown hair with a sweet boy laugh. But Billie had talents. Both for music, and also just for living. He was a boy of life. Nobody could even try to tell him what to do. Billie loved life, even if it was tough for him. Often. Billie was a sensitive boy. Even though he was a real rebel and had such an attitude, he was sensitive. He was a really sensitive and considerate kid. Billie walked homewards. He took the way where he'd avoid traffic. It was good being alone sometimes. He walked through the silent wood and pulled the jacket closer to his body. He almost never zipped it, it was so... well, strenuous. Then something happened. Something that would change his life forever. Billie panted. He looked down at the small, poor baby bird that just crashed down in front of his Converse-covered feet. It looked dead. Billie looked up and searched for a nest. He didn't see any. Carefully, he bent down and stroke the soft feathers.

"Hey mate," Billie whispered and lift it up. "Um... Can you...hear me?" The bird opened its eye. It was just like the glance cried for help. "Don't worry, won't leave you. Are you alone?" The ten year old picked up the bird. It was already a friend of his. But where would he keep it? In the house? Never, forget that. Alen tried keeping a bird indoors once, he kept it inside his closet, but he was revealed by Ollie. So... Where else? Billie put the little wretch close to his chest and brought it some warmth. He wrapped the jacket around it. "Okay, I'll call you...uh...Fiffs. Hi, Fiffs. I'm gonna take care of you, it's okay now. I just need a place for you to stay in." He looked around. Damn, he thought when the first raindrop hit his head.
A tree caught his attention. It was a pretty high tree, and since Billie was good at climbing, he could get up there easeally. Billie ripped off some grass and picked up some sticks.

"Hold on now, friend," he mumbled at the little bird. "I'll fix it for you. Just sit here now, alright?" Fiffs didn't even move or blink, and Billie Joe forced himself to construe it as a 'yes'. "Here we go then." The tree wasn't as easy to climb as Billie expected. The rain made it slippery and he slipped all the time. His hands got wounds and splinters, and the jacket cracked in the sleeve seam. After moaning and groaning, destroying a jacket and such, Billie got up in the tree. "Shit," he mimed as he pulled his own shoulder to check the cracked seam. Then he remembered Fiffs. "This is about you, not me." Billie couldn't avoid smiling when he thought of everything he did for a strange bird he just found.
He kept chatting and small talking to Fiffs as he built a small nest.

After ten minutes it was finished. It didn't look like a bird had done it, but Billie was satisfied to it and brushed away the dirt from his pants. "You'll need a roof, won't you?" Billie nodded to Fiffs, and closed his eyes hard. Then he ripped off the sleeve entirely and hung it over Fiffs. "I gotta go now... Well see ya around, Fiffs!" Billie stroke the beak again and started to walk away. Then he turned around and waved. "Bye, Fiffs! I'll be back tomorrow!" His heart beated fast as he ran home. He breathed jagged and thought about what just happened to him. Billie promised himself to never letting anyone else than himself know about Fiffs. Fiffs was just like a friend of his. His eyes. Billie stopped. Fiffs' eyes? It must have been his eyes that gave Billie the feeling of trusting. Soo... can you call a bird your friend?
Probably.