Do All Rockstars Go To Hell?, chapter 4

I walked back outside and through campus again. What's happened to my sister? I thought she loved Snake. At least, that's what she kept telling everyone. I don't know. My life is so confusing right now.

I walked back through the gates with my booksack bobbing on my back. Everyone asks me why I wear it all the time. Like I said, my dad gave it to me right before he died. He was also the one who taught me how to play guitar. I continued to learn by myself after he died.

I walked down the sidewalk going nowhere special at all. "Hey, Chris!" a girl called behind me. I turned around to see Emily running up to me. I kissed her on the cheek when she caught up. Yeah, she's my girlfriend.

"Where're you going?"she asked, grabbing my hand as we started walking again.
"Nowhere."
"That's where I'm going."
"You're always going there."

She giggled. It's true, though. Emily doesn't have a family, or a house, or anyone to look after her. She's homeless. She lives off the streets. Julia and I give her money alot for food and crap, but, we kind of have to force it into her hands. She doesn't like to take money from people. She's a sweet girl.

She put her head on my shoulder as we continued walking. She started humming "Wake Me Up When September Ends" into my ear. Yeah, Emily's a Green Day freak. Her and Julia get along great. Julia's like her older sister. It's kinda cute, acctually.

I've got nothing against Green Day or anything. I just think that their an okay band. It's not like I'll rush out and buy a CD or anything like Julia does. If the girls feel like listening to me play one of their songs, I'll play it. If one of their songs comes on the radio, I won't change the station. They're an okay band. The only reason I like Billie Joe Armstrong is because he was almost the guitar player for Rancid. Now that's a good band right there.

I let out a belch. "Ew! Chris!" Emily yelled. I looked down at her. She looked disgusted. "Sorry, Emmy," I smirked. She put her head back down on my shoulder. She hates it when I do stuff like that. Hey, I can't help it. I'm a guy.

"Sing me a song, Chris," she said from my shoulder. "Okay," I said, trying to think of one, "How about 'Darkness?'"
"Fine."
I cleared my throat and sang the song that I wrote:

Tell me a tale
And sing me a song
About anything and nothing at all
And maybe then I'll listen to you

Fearing life
When there's nothing to hide
Deep in thought
While you're locked inside
This cruel, dark world we've all come to know

Sitting, waiting
Wondering, standing
All alone in the dark again
Crying and laughing
When there's nothing to cry and laugh about

So I sing this pleasent song

Momma says there's nothing to hide
As I sit here
And wait and hide
And I fear I'm all alone again

Tell me a tale
And sing me a song
About anything and nothing at all
And maybe then I'll listen to you

"I've always loved that song," she said, "When did you write it?"
"When I was five."
"After the accident?"
"Yeah."

We continued walking. The streets were packed with cars trying to get home. "I don't understand why people just don't walk," I said, "I mean, it's better for the enviorment, and you don't rush through all the beautiful things in life."
"Well, it gets them home quicker."
"Doesn't look like it."
"Heh. And what were the 'beautiful' things you were talking about? We live in Brooklyn."
"Things like you."

He goes in for the pass... And score! She loves it when I tell her things like that. I like the things she does when I tell her things like that. Those things you don't need to know about, but hey, feel free to use your imagination...