Running Away With Billie Joe, chapter 9
Hi again! It’s been four years since I last spoke to you! I’m now 18 years old and living in my own apartment. I changed my name again and I’m now Oliva Armstrong. Well, while I was visiting Billie Joe in jail, he proposed to me. It was the sweetest thing. The police man even let me stay a little longer than usual becuase of this very special occasion. It was magical. But today he gets out. Out for good, I hope.
I kept my hair short and I’m now looking like Keira Knightly in “Bend it Like Beckham�!
I woke up on a Sunday morning in Berkeley, California. The light was shinning thorugh my bedroom window. I got, took a shower, got dressed in this white belly-button long sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans. I decided to unpack the rest of Billie Joe’s boxes and put them in our room.
About an hour later, 7:00 am I believe, I went outside, got in my car and drove over to the jail center where Billie Joe was being held. I wasn’t allowed to go in, because it wasn’t visiting hours, but the nicest guy that was walking out left the door open for me. I snuck around the guards and into the hall where Billie Joe’s cell was. A week earlier, I stole the keys to the hall from one of the sleeping guards so that I could let myself in whenever I wanted to. I walked to the end of the hallway and kneeled down to the floor where Billie was sleeping. I tapped his head lightly and he woke up.
“Hey, what are you doing here?� he asked.
“I couldn’t wait until noon.� I replied.
Until 11:30, I leaned up against the wall, holding Billie Joe’s hand through the cell bars, when a police man caught me in there. He walked me out, and just as I was about to leave the center, I gave him back his key. He looked rather confused but took it anyway. I walked down the center sidewalk until I reached the gate. I leaned up against the gate and waited there for Billie. About fifteen minutes later, he came out, with a bag in his hand that had all of his stuff in it. He took my hand, kissed it, and we were on our way in the car. No words were said, just a lot of I-love-you stares and a visit back to the beach. We stayed there for a little while, then left and went back to OUR apartment. No-one has to know what we’ve been through. No-one has to know what we are like. No-one has to know that we were in love, but us!
I kept my hair short and I’m now looking like Keira Knightly in “Bend it Like Beckham�!
I woke up on a Sunday morning in Berkeley, California. The light was shinning thorugh my bedroom window. I got, took a shower, got dressed in this white belly-button long sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans. I decided to unpack the rest of Billie Joe’s boxes and put them in our room.
About an hour later, 7:00 am I believe, I went outside, got in my car and drove over to the jail center where Billie Joe was being held. I wasn’t allowed to go in, because it wasn’t visiting hours, but the nicest guy that was walking out left the door open for me. I snuck around the guards and into the hall where Billie Joe’s cell was. A week earlier, I stole the keys to the hall from one of the sleeping guards so that I could let myself in whenever I wanted to. I walked to the end of the hallway and kneeled down to the floor where Billie was sleeping. I tapped his head lightly and he woke up.
“Hey, what are you doing here?� he asked.
“I couldn’t wait until noon.� I replied.
Until 11:30, I leaned up against the wall, holding Billie Joe’s hand through the cell bars, when a police man caught me in there. He walked me out, and just as I was about to leave the center, I gave him back his key. He looked rather confused but took it anyway. I walked down the center sidewalk until I reached the gate. I leaned up against the gate and waited there for Billie. About fifteen minutes later, he came out, with a bag in his hand that had all of his stuff in it. He took my hand, kissed it, and we were on our way in the car. No words were said, just a lot of I-love-you stares and a visit back to the beach. We stayed there for a little while, then left and went back to OUR apartment. No-one has to know what we’ve been through. No-one has to know what we are like. No-one has to know that we were in love, but us!
