Adoption and childhood dreams, chapter 1
I winced as my mom hit me again. I tried to carry on eating, but my head slammed into my bowl, spilling milk everywhere. I tried to hold the tears back, so not to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. After I had cleaned up my spilt breakfast it was late and I had to be driven to school. I cowered away from my mother, trying to hide myself in the seat. When I got to school I had missed homeroom registration so I had to go to the grey haired secretary. She looked at me, said my name and told me to go see the school nurse. This was almost becoming regulation happenings each morning. I walked through to the nurse's office, and knocked. A 'come in' sounded from the other side.
"Billie Joe, sweetie. What happened to your head? It's still bleeding."
"I... I ran into the door. The floor was slippery." she looked at me, and I could tell she didn't believe me straight away.
"Uh huh, you ran into the door twice because there are two cuts on your head? And," she flipped through my folder. "You've slipped and fell into a door four times these last two weeks." I was just about to make up another excuse, before she interrupted.
"Billie, honey, I need you to tell me something. I don't know if you trust me, but even if you don't, you have to tell me the truth now. Is your mom hurting you? Please, please tell me the truth." I looked at her. She was so pretty. She was the only person I felt that I could tell anything to, but the school looked into it before, and mom found out and hit me twice as hard and treated me even worse.
"I can't, mom'll hurt me again." I broke off and she looked and took me into a warm soft sweet- smelling hug.
"Can you take your shirt off for me, so I can check you, and I'll get you some new clothes and something to eat from the cafeteria?" She went, and I took my shirt off. I looked in her mirror. I was so thin, and covered in horrible bruises. She came back, and checked me over softly, always looking for new signs of abuse. Finding none, she told me to put a shirt on she had found, and treated the two cuts in my head. Then, she sat me down, and asked if there was anything I wanted to talk to her about. I ended up telling her everything about being abused. She wrote it down, and then asked me to come with her. I followed her to the principal's office, where my homeroom teacher, Mr Grinnell, my English teacher, Miss Delaney and a police officer sat around the desk.
"Now, Billie, this is Sergeant Chapman. Would you tell him what you just told me, or if you don't want to I can give him what I wrote down."
"What you wrote down." I said in a small voice. The policeman looked at me.
"How old are you, son?"
"Ten. Are you going to send me away, cuz mom says I'm bad."
"Is that right? No she'll be the one being sent away." I was confused, and watched the Sergeant as he read my story. I then went out with the nurse.
"Miss, Miss, what's gonna happen?"
"Well, first, my name's Ollie, Ollie Armstrong, call me that, not Miss. And second, well I don't know. You might be taken away from your mother and be put up for adoption." She reached across the table and took my hands in hers. "Do you want me to carry on?" I nodded. Her hands were so soft. I wondered if she had any kids.
"You might be taken into foster care, and you'll have to wait for someone to adopt you. They won't let you see your mom again." I was shocked. Although I hated her I couldn't imagine not seeing her. I started to cry, and she hugged me close.
"Hey, hey it'll be ok, don't worry." I was calmed by her words, and I put my arms around her. We stayed like that until the policeman came in and told me to say goodbye. He said he was taking me to the social services, and they would take care of me. I said my goodbyes, and Ollie Armstrong, promised to visit me. In the car the policeman was kind and didn't press me. After a while we pulled up in a drive of a nice looking building.
"Here. Welcome to Oakland, Billie Joe."
"Billie Joe Armstrong." My name was read out of the list of people who had visitors. I had been here for two weeks and it wasn't a bad place, just I was lonely. I missed my friends back home in Rodeo. I waked through into the visitor's area and I couldn't believe it. The school nurse was sitting there. I nearly jumped on her I was so happy.
"Hi Miss... .er Ollie." It felt strange, calling an adult by her first name.
"I'm sorry I haven't seen you already. You look a lot better." We sat talking. I found out she was only 24, and was married to a guy called Andy, who had recently been diagnosed with cancer. After a while she took a breath and started to sound all serious again.
"Look Billie, Honey, you only have to stay here until you get adopted. And, well my husband and I have been thinking... if it's alright with you, we would be happy to try and adopt you." I couldn't say anything.
"Yes, yes, yes!" I was so happy I hugged her.
"Hey, sweetie, calm down, you'll hurt someone! I can't be sure, but we've put in for adoption. You just have to choose us."
"Of course I will! Thank you... Ollie." Then, the bell rang for end of hours. Time for chores, homework and then dinner. The weeks passed slowly, then, six weeks later, nearly at the end of the semester, I was adopted by Ollie and her sick Husband. I had met him, once, before the cancer got too bad, and he seemed like a real nice guy. When I got back to their house, in the Oakland suburbs, he was waiting for me. I went in to see him and he was holding something I had wanted ever since I was little. A guitar! A blue fender Stratocaster.
"Ollie told me you wanted one, so here. I can teach you, if you like."
"Would you? You're brilliant, Andy!" I hugged him, I was so happy.
"Why don't you show Billie around, dear?"
"Come on then we'll take your stuff up later." We went up and he showed around. He was a jazz musician and was gonna teach me guitar and saxophone.
At the beginning of the new semester I went to the local school. I looked around the bus and I saw a boy who looked about my age with brown hair and bright blue eyes.
"Hey, can I sit here?"
"Yeah sure. My name's Mike." He moved his bag, and I sat down.
"I'm Billie Joe. I just moved here."
"From where?"
"Rodeo. I'm adopted."
"Wow, so'm I. I won't ask why, that's ok." There was a sort of uncomfortable silence before Mike started again.
"So, what do you wanna be when you're older?"
"This sounds stupid, but I wanna be a musician. My foster father is and he's teaching me guitar and saxophone, and I want to learn from him because he's got cancer I think being a musician would make him proud, y'know?"
"Yeah, sorry to hear he's ill. I think that's really cool. My parents got me a bass for my birthday, and I'm having lessons." Then we reached school. We went in, and fortunately ended up in the same class. Mike was really cool, we were gonna meet up sometime and play our instruments. I got in from school, and Ollie was home.
"Hi honey."
"Hi. I have question. What shall I call you? Like, mom, Ollie, Aunt Ollie or what?"
"I don't know... what you want really."
"Ok then... mom." She smiled and I hugged her. I thought her as mom, and it had made her happy. This was what a mother was supposed to be like.
It was Saturday and Mike was around mine. We had been playing, and had figured out half of the Ramones songs we knew. Life here with my new family and friends was great and there was nothing I thought, that could spoil it. Life was everything I had once dreamed of.
I woke up, and was freezing cold. I turned over and looked at my alarm clock. 5:00. I then realized I was so cold because the duvet was on the floor. I could hear crying form the next room. I went in.
"Hey mom, are you ok? When did you get back? Is dad ok?" she was sobbing into her pillow.
"They don't know, they say he might not last any longer. He wants you to go and see him tomorrow, so he can give you your birthday presents." She looked at me and started crying, so I went over and put my arm round her.
"Don't cry, mom, it'll be ok. He's a great dad, and you're great too." We stayed together until it was time for me to go to school and work. The next day we went to the hospital, and he had my presents. It was four days before my eleventh birthday, and all I wanted was for Andy to live to see it, it would be the best present ever. I left the hospital with my own saxophone amongst other things I had always wanted. How did they know? And I knew how much this stuff costs, and when I asked her about it she said they saved up because Andy wanted me to be happy for the only birthday they would be together for. The day before my birthday, mom had a call from the hospital to say Andy had died.
"Hey Mike, wait up! Happy birthday, dude! Look what I got us! Tickets to the Operation Ivy gig tonight at the Gilman!"
"Really! Great, when is it?"
"Tonight, can you come? I hope this makes up for forgetting last years birthday?"
"Definitely!"
"Oh, and you know, that group, the lookouts are supporting them." We reached my turning and I handed Mike his ticket.
"See ya tonight at Adeline Street then." I walked along to my house, and thought about the band we had started with our friend John. I played lead guitar and vocals, Mike was on bass, and John, who had decided to call himself Al, was on drums. We were called Sweet Children, and we were trying to get a gig at Gilman Street, a local punk venue. At eight, me and Mike met in Adeline Street, and walked to the Gilman. We got in early, and another band was playing.
"Hey, they're quite good. Who are they?" Mike asked me as we made our way to the non-alcoholic bar.
"I dunno." I looked around, and saw a poster. "The Lookouts. They are good. They're drummer's great."
"Likes his cymbals."
The gig was great, and afterwards we met the Lookouts. The drummer turned out to be Tré Cool, John's drum teacher. No wonder John seemed so mad when he played drums, the guy was absolutely crazy, but very cool, hence the name. We got his number and it turned out he lived bout three minutes away from me.
At band practice the next weekend we went round to my place. My mom was away for the weekend, gone to see relatives somewhere, so I had the place to myself. After a while of drinking we had nothing to do.
"Hey, have you still got that drummers number?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Cuz I want to see what he's like when he's pissed. Can you call him?"
"Yeah, you can." I threw the phone at Mike and the piece of paper. He dialled it and went out. All the while John had sat in silence.
"Wassup Al, you haven't been you for ages?"
"Look I have to talk to you about the band. You know I applied for college? Well I got in, and I'm leaving Oakland."
"WHAT!!! How long gave you known? When were you gonna tell us? Or were you just gonna leave?"
"I only found out yesterday! Don't act like my fucking mom!"
"Hey guys, Tré's coming over. He'll be here soon."
"John has something to tell you, Mike. Well?"
"I'm leaving Oakland. I got a place in college."
"Oh. Guess we'll have to look for another drummer. Keep in contact?" he was taking it lightly.
"When are you going?" I interrupted with.
"Next month." There was a knock at the door. I went up and got it. It was Tré cool, the Gilman drummer. He didn't look to good.
"Hi. What's the matter? Come through."
"Band split up. I feel sick." He had the weirdest voice, and the most freakishly blue eyes.
"Beer makes it better?"
"Uh huh." We went down to the basement.
"Hey, I didn't know you lot hung around." He said, pointing at John.
"Yeah well, not for long. Ask him if you want details." I pulled a beer off the pack and gave it to him. We then went through the whole leaving story again. I seriously wanted this band to work. How were we supposed to do anything without a drummer? It sucked. We hung around for a while, doing nothing. Tré definitely lightened the mood up. I don't know why I was so grouchy.
"Billie Joe, sweetie. What happened to your head? It's still bleeding."
"I... I ran into the door. The floor was slippery." she looked at me, and I could tell she didn't believe me straight away.
"Uh huh, you ran into the door twice because there are two cuts on your head? And," she flipped through my folder. "You've slipped and fell into a door four times these last two weeks." I was just about to make up another excuse, before she interrupted.
"Billie, honey, I need you to tell me something. I don't know if you trust me, but even if you don't, you have to tell me the truth now. Is your mom hurting you? Please, please tell me the truth." I looked at her. She was so pretty. She was the only person I felt that I could tell anything to, but the school looked into it before, and mom found out and hit me twice as hard and treated me even worse.
"I can't, mom'll hurt me again." I broke off and she looked and took me into a warm soft sweet- smelling hug.
"Can you take your shirt off for me, so I can check you, and I'll get you some new clothes and something to eat from the cafeteria?" She went, and I took my shirt off. I looked in her mirror. I was so thin, and covered in horrible bruises. She came back, and checked me over softly, always looking for new signs of abuse. Finding none, she told me to put a shirt on she had found, and treated the two cuts in my head. Then, she sat me down, and asked if there was anything I wanted to talk to her about. I ended up telling her everything about being abused. She wrote it down, and then asked me to come with her. I followed her to the principal's office, where my homeroom teacher, Mr Grinnell, my English teacher, Miss Delaney and a police officer sat around the desk.
"Now, Billie, this is Sergeant Chapman. Would you tell him what you just told me, or if you don't want to I can give him what I wrote down."
"What you wrote down." I said in a small voice. The policeman looked at me.
"How old are you, son?"
"Ten. Are you going to send me away, cuz mom says I'm bad."
"Is that right? No she'll be the one being sent away." I was confused, and watched the Sergeant as he read my story. I then went out with the nurse.
"Miss, Miss, what's gonna happen?"
"Well, first, my name's Ollie, Ollie Armstrong, call me that, not Miss. And second, well I don't know. You might be taken away from your mother and be put up for adoption." She reached across the table and took my hands in hers. "Do you want me to carry on?" I nodded. Her hands were so soft. I wondered if she had any kids.
"You might be taken into foster care, and you'll have to wait for someone to adopt you. They won't let you see your mom again." I was shocked. Although I hated her I couldn't imagine not seeing her. I started to cry, and she hugged me close.
"Hey, hey it'll be ok, don't worry." I was calmed by her words, and I put my arms around her. We stayed like that until the policeman came in and told me to say goodbye. He said he was taking me to the social services, and they would take care of me. I said my goodbyes, and Ollie Armstrong, promised to visit me. In the car the policeman was kind and didn't press me. After a while we pulled up in a drive of a nice looking building.
"Here. Welcome to Oakland, Billie Joe."
"Billie Joe Armstrong." My name was read out of the list of people who had visitors. I had been here for two weeks and it wasn't a bad place, just I was lonely. I missed my friends back home in Rodeo. I waked through into the visitor's area and I couldn't believe it. The school nurse was sitting there. I nearly jumped on her I was so happy.
"Hi Miss... .er Ollie." It felt strange, calling an adult by her first name.
"I'm sorry I haven't seen you already. You look a lot better." We sat talking. I found out she was only 24, and was married to a guy called Andy, who had recently been diagnosed with cancer. After a while she took a breath and started to sound all serious again.
"Look Billie, Honey, you only have to stay here until you get adopted. And, well my husband and I have been thinking... if it's alright with you, we would be happy to try and adopt you." I couldn't say anything.
"Yes, yes, yes!" I was so happy I hugged her.
"Hey, sweetie, calm down, you'll hurt someone! I can't be sure, but we've put in for adoption. You just have to choose us."
"Of course I will! Thank you... Ollie." Then, the bell rang for end of hours. Time for chores, homework and then dinner. The weeks passed slowly, then, six weeks later, nearly at the end of the semester, I was adopted by Ollie and her sick Husband. I had met him, once, before the cancer got too bad, and he seemed like a real nice guy. When I got back to their house, in the Oakland suburbs, he was waiting for me. I went in to see him and he was holding something I had wanted ever since I was little. A guitar! A blue fender Stratocaster.
"Ollie told me you wanted one, so here. I can teach you, if you like."
"Would you? You're brilliant, Andy!" I hugged him, I was so happy.
"Why don't you show Billie around, dear?"
"Come on then we'll take your stuff up later." We went up and he showed around. He was a jazz musician and was gonna teach me guitar and saxophone.
At the beginning of the new semester I went to the local school. I looked around the bus and I saw a boy who looked about my age with brown hair and bright blue eyes.
"Hey, can I sit here?"
"Yeah sure. My name's Mike." He moved his bag, and I sat down.
"I'm Billie Joe. I just moved here."
"From where?"
"Rodeo. I'm adopted."
"Wow, so'm I. I won't ask why, that's ok." There was a sort of uncomfortable silence before Mike started again.
"So, what do you wanna be when you're older?"
"This sounds stupid, but I wanna be a musician. My foster father is and he's teaching me guitar and saxophone, and I want to learn from him because he's got cancer I think being a musician would make him proud, y'know?"
"Yeah, sorry to hear he's ill. I think that's really cool. My parents got me a bass for my birthday, and I'm having lessons." Then we reached school. We went in, and fortunately ended up in the same class. Mike was really cool, we were gonna meet up sometime and play our instruments. I got in from school, and Ollie was home.
"Hi honey."
"Hi. I have question. What shall I call you? Like, mom, Ollie, Aunt Ollie or what?"
"I don't know... what you want really."
"Ok then... mom." She smiled and I hugged her. I thought her as mom, and it had made her happy. This was what a mother was supposed to be like.
It was Saturday and Mike was around mine. We had been playing, and had figured out half of the Ramones songs we knew. Life here with my new family and friends was great and there was nothing I thought, that could spoil it. Life was everything I had once dreamed of.
I woke up, and was freezing cold. I turned over and looked at my alarm clock. 5:00. I then realized I was so cold because the duvet was on the floor. I could hear crying form the next room. I went in.
"Hey mom, are you ok? When did you get back? Is dad ok?" she was sobbing into her pillow.
"They don't know, they say he might not last any longer. He wants you to go and see him tomorrow, so he can give you your birthday presents." She looked at me and started crying, so I went over and put my arm round her.
"Don't cry, mom, it'll be ok. He's a great dad, and you're great too." We stayed together until it was time for me to go to school and work. The next day we went to the hospital, and he had my presents. It was four days before my eleventh birthday, and all I wanted was for Andy to live to see it, it would be the best present ever. I left the hospital with my own saxophone amongst other things I had always wanted. How did they know? And I knew how much this stuff costs, and when I asked her about it she said they saved up because Andy wanted me to be happy for the only birthday they would be together for. The day before my birthday, mom had a call from the hospital to say Andy had died.
"Hey Mike, wait up! Happy birthday, dude! Look what I got us! Tickets to the Operation Ivy gig tonight at the Gilman!"
"Really! Great, when is it?"
"Tonight, can you come? I hope this makes up for forgetting last years birthday?"
"Definitely!"
"Oh, and you know, that group, the lookouts are supporting them." We reached my turning and I handed Mike his ticket.
"See ya tonight at Adeline Street then." I walked along to my house, and thought about the band we had started with our friend John. I played lead guitar and vocals, Mike was on bass, and John, who had decided to call himself Al, was on drums. We were called Sweet Children, and we were trying to get a gig at Gilman Street, a local punk venue. At eight, me and Mike met in Adeline Street, and walked to the Gilman. We got in early, and another band was playing.
"Hey, they're quite good. Who are they?" Mike asked me as we made our way to the non-alcoholic bar.
"I dunno." I looked around, and saw a poster. "The Lookouts. They are good. They're drummer's great."
"Likes his cymbals."
The gig was great, and afterwards we met the Lookouts. The drummer turned out to be Tré Cool, John's drum teacher. No wonder John seemed so mad when he played drums, the guy was absolutely crazy, but very cool, hence the name. We got his number and it turned out he lived bout three minutes away from me.
At band practice the next weekend we went round to my place. My mom was away for the weekend, gone to see relatives somewhere, so I had the place to myself. After a while of drinking we had nothing to do.
"Hey, have you still got that drummers number?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Cuz I want to see what he's like when he's pissed. Can you call him?"
"Yeah, you can." I threw the phone at Mike and the piece of paper. He dialled it and went out. All the while John had sat in silence.
"Wassup Al, you haven't been you for ages?"
"Look I have to talk to you about the band. You know I applied for college? Well I got in, and I'm leaving Oakland."
"WHAT!!! How long gave you known? When were you gonna tell us? Or were you just gonna leave?"
"I only found out yesterday! Don't act like my fucking mom!"
"Hey guys, Tré's coming over. He'll be here soon."
"John has something to tell you, Mike. Well?"
"I'm leaving Oakland. I got a place in college."
"Oh. Guess we'll have to look for another drummer. Keep in contact?" he was taking it lightly.
"When are you going?" I interrupted with.
"Next month." There was a knock at the door. I went up and got it. It was Tré cool, the Gilman drummer. He didn't look to good.
"Hi. What's the matter? Come through."
"Band split up. I feel sick." He had the weirdest voice, and the most freakishly blue eyes.
"Beer makes it better?"
"Uh huh." We went down to the basement.
"Hey, I didn't know you lot hung around." He said, pointing at John.
"Yeah well, not for long. Ask him if you want details." I pulled a beer off the pack and gave it to him. We then went through the whole leaving story again. I seriously wanted this band to work. How were we supposed to do anything without a drummer? It sucked. We hung around for a while, doing nothing. Tré definitely lightened the mood up. I don't know why I was so grouchy.
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