Yet Another...American Idiot, chapter 2
Jesus marched inside the classroom without any type of pass. His teacher demanded that he 'stop right there, mister' but he ignored her. He took out a notebook and scribbled a few notes about math. It didn't take long before he got bored and started imagining horrible things happening to all the teachers in the world except four that he loved. One had been the only kind person to him as a kid, the other was so addicted by drugs that he'd gotten fired (but it didn't matter much, he'd heard rumors the guy was dead by now, killed by drugs at the age of about thirty) yet another was an old friend whose name Jesus had forgotten a long time ago, and the last one...he smiled as the bell rang again; (another miracle, he'd smiled in school).
He guessed his favorite places to be were anywhere he could sleep, get drugged, or be alone. All the teachers he liked understood that, with the exception of the teacher in his next lesson, but at least she accepted that. She let him do whatever he pleased in class and never bothered him. She also punished anyone that made fun of him. She had even allowed him and the rest of the class to get drugged once. She later claimed she had just wanted to see him enjoying himself at school for once.
That, today, and the first day of school, (the latter of which he had decided he hated everyone and would not be coming) were the only days he had gone to school the whole year. Besides, there was just something about her...she was married, but she would probably agree to divorce for him, after all she'd done for him in class. He felt good when he was around her. He liked her a lot. When he arrived, there she was, joyful and ready to start the class. He had a good time and felt great for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She let him out of class early (she knew he couldn't bear being indoors too long) with a smile. She gave him a piece of blank paper, saying, "I noticed you weren't writing today in class, Jesus," with a wink. Jesus nodded. Half of him wanted to stay with this cool teacher, but the other half of him was inpatient to be freed again, to roam the streets like a beggar, to smell the alcohol/cigarette-infested fresh air, instead of this sickeningly clean air at school. The thought to come to class more often, just to be with her, crossed his mind, but he soon forgot it (the rest of school was much too boring for school's reputation to be saved by a single teacher).
When he was outside he unfolded the piece of paper his teacher had given him. (yeah, she gave it to him folded). Inside was a $100 bill and an address. Underneath it, it read:
Don't spend it all at once, O.K., Jesus? If you do, I might not give you more money.
Mrs. Tutor
So that's her name, thought Jesus. Glad she remembered mine. Mrs. Tutor... He walked on the street, wondering where he was going. He went to the address and grinned. It was a place where alcohol was sold. He bought $20 of alcohol, knowing that if he got more, he would spend the rest of his money and be craving it desperately afterwards. He drank half the bottle on the way home.
When he got there, his mom was kissing a stranger on the couch. They were both drunk, but it didn't look like anything more serious than kissing to Jesus.
His mom already had two babies who drove him nuts. Something in him kept him from giving a damn about them. They could be nice when they were happy. His mom didn't care, and if he didn't take care of them, they would die because no one else would. Their names were Andrew and Aidan.
Jesus gasped. There was someone else behind the couch. It was a man that looked a lot like him. He held up a knife and put it close to his mom's face. Jesus knew it was his father. The man waved it around threateningly, close to killing his former wife, and then he laughed. Jesus flinched; the laugh was loud enough to wake his younger siblings, and he didn't want to have to take care of them - he preferred to be alone right now. Surprisingly, no screams of annoyance came from upstairs. His father jerked his knife to the dirty wooden stairs and began to climb very quickly. Jesus bounded up the stairs two at a time, desperate to catch up with him, despite his alcohol-induced clumsiness and headache. He hurried into his room (although he had never met his father, he had a feeling that he would go straight to his only son's room, which was the attic) and there was his father, standing beside the bed. He pointed to the center of the room. There was a two-gallon bottle of soda; it was filled to the top, not with coke, but with alcohol.
His father grinned at him through clouded eyes (something that seems to happen when people smoke too much) and waved. Then he walked past Jesus without a word, only acknowledging his son's presence by putting a hand on his shoulder, and left the room. Jesus stared at the door, then jumped down the trapdoor to his room and raced down the stairs, nearly falling over.
He sprinted to the door (the living room was empty) and was outside in a flash. There, he whipped his head left and right, but his dad was nowhere to be seen. He leaned against the wall, panting. His mother screamed something at him from inside about what a fucker he was, but he paid her no attention and went for another walk, leaving the door open.
When he got back, the door was locked and had a sign over it which was scarred and ripped up from use and read: jeesos NOT ALLOWT within this haouse hold. Jesus laughed at the fact that his mom didn't know to spell 'allowed' or 'house' apart from many other words, including her own name, but he knew she had written his name that way on purpose. He didn't care that she hadn't spelled his name right or with a capital. He would've gone in anyway except his mother didn't trust him enough to give him a key, so instead he climbed the tree outside the neighbor's house and got into the neighbor's roof. From there, he calmly walked to his house's roof and let himself in through a window in the attic. He had to fight to get in through the curtains, which he always kept closed, but finally managed it.
He landed on a bed that had a lot of dust on it. He coughed, grinning as he remembered last night: he had been sleeping outside in the street for months.
This had been a very strange day: he'd got money from a teacher, learned her name, seen his father, and had actually entered his own house instead of just cursing it as he walked by. The last thing he saw before falling asleep was the enormous bottle of alcohol. So he really was here... he thought as he fell asleep, looking forward to nothing but nightmares because that's what he always got if he fell asleep before midnight. It was only about 10:30. His father had died 10 years ago.
A.N. What I said earlier about that his father only caring about drugs was Jesus getting mixed up with one of his mom's boyfriends who had lived with them for a while.
He guessed his favorite places to be were anywhere he could sleep, get drugged, or be alone. All the teachers he liked understood that, with the exception of the teacher in his next lesson, but at least she accepted that. She let him do whatever he pleased in class and never bothered him. She also punished anyone that made fun of him. She had even allowed him and the rest of the class to get drugged once. She later claimed she had just wanted to see him enjoying himself at school for once.
That, today, and the first day of school, (the latter of which he had decided he hated everyone and would not be coming) were the only days he had gone to school the whole year. Besides, there was just something about her...she was married, but she would probably agree to divorce for him, after all she'd done for him in class. He felt good when he was around her. He liked her a lot. When he arrived, there she was, joyful and ready to start the class. He had a good time and felt great for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She let him out of class early (she knew he couldn't bear being indoors too long) with a smile. She gave him a piece of blank paper, saying, "I noticed you weren't writing today in class, Jesus," with a wink. Jesus nodded. Half of him wanted to stay with this cool teacher, but the other half of him was inpatient to be freed again, to roam the streets like a beggar, to smell the alcohol/cigarette-infested fresh air, instead of this sickeningly clean air at school. The thought to come to class more often, just to be with her, crossed his mind, but he soon forgot it (the rest of school was much too boring for school's reputation to be saved by a single teacher).
When he was outside he unfolded the piece of paper his teacher had given him. (yeah, she gave it to him folded). Inside was a $100 bill and an address. Underneath it, it read:
Don't spend it all at once, O.K., Jesus? If you do, I might not give you more money.
Mrs. Tutor
So that's her name, thought Jesus. Glad she remembered mine. Mrs. Tutor... He walked on the street, wondering where he was going. He went to the address and grinned. It was a place where alcohol was sold. He bought $20 of alcohol, knowing that if he got more, he would spend the rest of his money and be craving it desperately afterwards. He drank half the bottle on the way home.
When he got there, his mom was kissing a stranger on the couch. They were both drunk, but it didn't look like anything more serious than kissing to Jesus.
His mom already had two babies who drove him nuts. Something in him kept him from giving a damn about them. They could be nice when they were happy. His mom didn't care, and if he didn't take care of them, they would die because no one else would. Their names were Andrew and Aidan.
Jesus gasped. There was someone else behind the couch. It was a man that looked a lot like him. He held up a knife and put it close to his mom's face. Jesus knew it was his father. The man waved it around threateningly, close to killing his former wife, and then he laughed. Jesus flinched; the laugh was loud enough to wake his younger siblings, and he didn't want to have to take care of them - he preferred to be alone right now. Surprisingly, no screams of annoyance came from upstairs. His father jerked his knife to the dirty wooden stairs and began to climb very quickly. Jesus bounded up the stairs two at a time, desperate to catch up with him, despite his alcohol-induced clumsiness and headache. He hurried into his room (although he had never met his father, he had a feeling that he would go straight to his only son's room, which was the attic) and there was his father, standing beside the bed. He pointed to the center of the room. There was a two-gallon bottle of soda; it was filled to the top, not with coke, but with alcohol.
His father grinned at him through clouded eyes (something that seems to happen when people smoke too much) and waved. Then he walked past Jesus without a word, only acknowledging his son's presence by putting a hand on his shoulder, and left the room. Jesus stared at the door, then jumped down the trapdoor to his room and raced down the stairs, nearly falling over.
He sprinted to the door (the living room was empty) and was outside in a flash. There, he whipped his head left and right, but his dad was nowhere to be seen. He leaned against the wall, panting. His mother screamed something at him from inside about what a fucker he was, but he paid her no attention and went for another walk, leaving the door open.
When he got back, the door was locked and had a sign over it which was scarred and ripped up from use and read: jeesos NOT ALLOWT within this haouse hold. Jesus laughed at the fact that his mom didn't know to spell 'allowed' or 'house' apart from many other words, including her own name, but he knew she had written his name that way on purpose. He didn't care that she hadn't spelled his name right or with a capital. He would've gone in anyway except his mother didn't trust him enough to give him a key, so instead he climbed the tree outside the neighbor's house and got into the neighbor's roof. From there, he calmly walked to his house's roof and let himself in through a window in the attic. He had to fight to get in through the curtains, which he always kept closed, but finally managed it.
He landed on a bed that had a lot of dust on it. He coughed, grinning as he remembered last night: he had been sleeping outside in the street for months.
This had been a very strange day: he'd got money from a teacher, learned her name, seen his father, and had actually entered his own house instead of just cursing it as he walked by. The last thing he saw before falling asleep was the enormous bottle of alcohol. So he really was here... he thought as he fell asleep, looking forward to nothing but nightmares because that's what he always got if he fell asleep before midnight. It was only about 10:30. His father had died 10 years ago.
A.N. What I said earlier about that his father only caring about drugs was Jesus getting mixed up with one of his mom's boyfriends who had lived with them for a while.
