Fight for your Right, chapter 3
The next morning I threw on some jeans and a shirt that said Coca-Cola in chinese or japanese or something. I had slept in, so I didn't eat breakfast and just left.
I was walking down the street and I saw a group of what looked like high schoolers all gathered around in a circle yelling.
"Come on, pay up. Its been 4 months now."
"I dont even know who you are! Let alone owe you money! You got the wrong guy!"
"Don't lie to us Thomas, just give us the money. He said you lived here."
"My name isn't Thomas, I don't live here I'm just walking to school and I don't owe you anything! So get off!"
I saw whoever it was start to shove people to get out, then it turned into a big fight. I watched in amusement, I was probably ten to fifteen feet away from them. I didn't think Billie could have been in the middle of it, he usually waited until I left to leave.
But he hadn't shown up yet.
Then one of the high schooler lookin' people pulled out a gun, and shot someone. I gasped and ran behind the tree that was beside me. I didn't know if they killed witnesses.
"Way to go Ryan! He definetely can't pay us now!"
"Guys, what if he really wasn't Thomas?"
"He was, why else would he be outside this house?"
"Wait, he had a notebook and a math book, just look at one of the papers."
There was a small pause and some ruffling of pages. "Billie Joe Armstrong, crap guys we got the wrong guy!" They all ran away, and I looked over. There was Billie, laying on the ground, in puddle of blood.
Billie Joe Armstrong
February 17, 1972- April 28, 1986
Just kidding, but I had to do that. Anyways, I got up and ran over to him. He had a bullet hole in his shoulder. I wasn't sure what to do to make sure he was alive. I wasn't good at finding pulses after we ran at gym.
"Uhhh, Billie? Please be alive!" I yelled smacking him in the face a little. He didn't do anything, so I pulled his eyelids up. "BILLIE!!!"
I let go and put my face in my hands and started crying, I couldn't stand people dying. Then his eyes opened a little. "Melissa, what do you want?" he said trying to sit up a little.
"Umm I don't think you should do that," I said as he stopped from the pain and fell back down. "Crap I don't know what to do?!"
"What do you think you should do? Mourn me?! Go call an ambulance or something!"
I ran into my house to find that my mom was taking Erin to school. She was in first grade so she didn't go to the same school as me. I ran to the phone and dialed 911.
"What's your emergency?"
"I just got shot. No wait, my friend, well. Someone got shot!"
"What? Well, are you, wait, is however got shot concious?"
"Yeah, right now I think he is. But we really need an ambulance."
"I'm just going to need your name and address."
"Melissa Strawser, 412 Washington Street, Rodeo."
"Ok, someone should be over with an ambulance soon." Then she hung up, I just stood there kind of confused. I wonder if she still thought I was shot. Wait, why would she ask if I was concious? What? I'm confused.
"Wait," I said out loud. And looked myself over. "I.... have not.... been shot, ok." I grabbed an old jacket of mine that was by the door.
I ran back outside to where he was. It felt like my heart was beating in my throat. I looked him over and saw he had a black eye and a bloody nose from the fight. "You're gonna be ok, the ambulance is coming," I said quickly as my eyes filled up with tears again. I couldn't stand seeing him like this, whether I hated him or not. I held the jacket at his shoulder to stop some of the bleeding.
He started to lean up again, except this time he made it. I scooted over and put my arm behind him to help him stay. "Melissa, why do you care?"
"What?"
"Why do you care that I live?"
"Because. I might hate you, but you can't die. You just....can't."
"Whatever," he mumbled, putting his good arm behind his back so he could hold himself up. Then he laughed a little, "I hate you too."
I smiled at him, "Wow Billie, I felt that right here," I said laughing pointing to my heart and kicking his leg.
He was a little slow, probably from shock and the pain in his shoulder, but he took his good arm and pointed to me, "Never....never ever...get shot."
"That's nice, I'll be sure to take it off of my to-do list."
"It hurts....bad."
"Doesn't look enjoyable!" I said laughing a little. "What are you, stoned!?"
"No no no, that was *yesterday*. I'm clean today. But I am in serious pain here..." he said smiling. This was just like when we were little, we would joke around about things that we would usually cry about. It was an inside joke, kind of off of Crocodile Hunter 'The croc has bitten me hand off! I wonder what it will do next!'
"Quit bein' stupid and acting like you don't know what I'm talking about."
'I know what you're talking about!" I said glaring at him. How could I forget.
"Apparently not, or you wouldn't be questioning me so much!"
"I just now remembered! And how do you know such a big word like questioning?"
"Shut up, Strawser!"
"Strawser? Since when do you call me Strawser?"
"Since I feel you aren't worthy of a first name!"
These were the annoying little arguments that came with hating each other.
"I just saved your life, and all you can think of by repaying me is making me unworthy of having a first name?" I yelled standing up and almost making him fall backwards. Now I was overpowering him. He was sitting on the ground, wounded, and I was standing over him, perfectly healthy.
"I didn't ask you to help me, so don't even try to guilt trip me!" he said trying to stand up. He tried for a second, then plopped back down. "Heh- help me up!" he whined, laughing a little, stretching out a hand.
Just like in the dream.
I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help him up, but he didn't deserve it, but did that matter? I was confused yet again. In the dream, I helped him. But he also was my brother, and I had hurt his ankle.
"Mel? Help me up," he said waving his hand a little. My mind was so foggy, I didn't know what to do.
Tears slowly started going down me face.
I just mumbled, "You're hopeless Armstrong," and walked away.
I was walking down the street and I saw a group of what looked like high schoolers all gathered around in a circle yelling.
"Come on, pay up. Its been 4 months now."
"I dont even know who you are! Let alone owe you money! You got the wrong guy!"
"Don't lie to us Thomas, just give us the money. He said you lived here."
"My name isn't Thomas, I don't live here I'm just walking to school and I don't owe you anything! So get off!"
I saw whoever it was start to shove people to get out, then it turned into a big fight. I watched in amusement, I was probably ten to fifteen feet away from them. I didn't think Billie could have been in the middle of it, he usually waited until I left to leave.
But he hadn't shown up yet.
Then one of the high schooler lookin' people pulled out a gun, and shot someone. I gasped and ran behind the tree that was beside me. I didn't know if they killed witnesses.
"Way to go Ryan! He definetely can't pay us now!"
"Guys, what if he really wasn't Thomas?"
"He was, why else would he be outside this house?"
"Wait, he had a notebook and a math book, just look at one of the papers."
There was a small pause and some ruffling of pages. "Billie Joe Armstrong, crap guys we got the wrong guy!" They all ran away, and I looked over. There was Billie, laying on the ground, in puddle of blood.
Billie Joe Armstrong
February 17, 1972- April 28, 1986
Just kidding, but I had to do that. Anyways, I got up and ran over to him. He had a bullet hole in his shoulder. I wasn't sure what to do to make sure he was alive. I wasn't good at finding pulses after we ran at gym.
"Uhhh, Billie? Please be alive!" I yelled smacking him in the face a little. He didn't do anything, so I pulled his eyelids up. "BILLIE!!!"
I let go and put my face in my hands and started crying, I couldn't stand people dying. Then his eyes opened a little. "Melissa, what do you want?" he said trying to sit up a little.
"Umm I don't think you should do that," I said as he stopped from the pain and fell back down. "Crap I don't know what to do?!"
"What do you think you should do? Mourn me?! Go call an ambulance or something!"
I ran into my house to find that my mom was taking Erin to school. She was in first grade so she didn't go to the same school as me. I ran to the phone and dialed 911.
"What's your emergency?"
"I just got shot. No wait, my friend, well. Someone got shot!"
"What? Well, are you, wait, is however got shot concious?"
"Yeah, right now I think he is. But we really need an ambulance."
"I'm just going to need your name and address."
"Melissa Strawser, 412 Washington Street, Rodeo."
"Ok, someone should be over with an ambulance soon." Then she hung up, I just stood there kind of confused. I wonder if she still thought I was shot. Wait, why would she ask if I was concious? What? I'm confused.
"Wait," I said out loud. And looked myself over. "I.... have not.... been shot, ok." I grabbed an old jacket of mine that was by the door.
I ran back outside to where he was. It felt like my heart was beating in my throat. I looked him over and saw he had a black eye and a bloody nose from the fight. "You're gonna be ok, the ambulance is coming," I said quickly as my eyes filled up with tears again. I couldn't stand seeing him like this, whether I hated him or not. I held the jacket at his shoulder to stop some of the bleeding.
He started to lean up again, except this time he made it. I scooted over and put my arm behind him to help him stay. "Melissa, why do you care?"
"What?"
"Why do you care that I live?"
"Because. I might hate you, but you can't die. You just....can't."
"Whatever," he mumbled, putting his good arm behind his back so he could hold himself up. Then he laughed a little, "I hate you too."
I smiled at him, "Wow Billie, I felt that right here," I said laughing pointing to my heart and kicking his leg.
He was a little slow, probably from shock and the pain in his shoulder, but he took his good arm and pointed to me, "Never....never ever...get shot."
"That's nice, I'll be sure to take it off of my to-do list."
"It hurts....bad."
"Doesn't look enjoyable!" I said laughing a little. "What are you, stoned!?"
"No no no, that was *yesterday*. I'm clean today. But I am in serious pain here..." he said smiling. This was just like when we were little, we would joke around about things that we would usually cry about. It was an inside joke, kind of off of Crocodile Hunter 'The croc has bitten me hand off! I wonder what it will do next!'
"Quit bein' stupid and acting like you don't know what I'm talking about."
'I know what you're talking about!" I said glaring at him. How could I forget.
"Apparently not, or you wouldn't be questioning me so much!"
"I just now remembered! And how do you know such a big word like questioning?"
"Shut up, Strawser!"
"Strawser? Since when do you call me Strawser?"
"Since I feel you aren't worthy of a first name!"
These were the annoying little arguments that came with hating each other.
"I just saved your life, and all you can think of by repaying me is making me unworthy of having a first name?" I yelled standing up and almost making him fall backwards. Now I was overpowering him. He was sitting on the ground, wounded, and I was standing over him, perfectly healthy.
"I didn't ask you to help me, so don't even try to guilt trip me!" he said trying to stand up. He tried for a second, then plopped back down. "Heh- help me up!" he whined, laughing a little, stretching out a hand.
Just like in the dream.
I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help him up, but he didn't deserve it, but did that matter? I was confused yet again. In the dream, I helped him. But he also was my brother, and I had hurt his ankle.
"Mel? Help me up," he said waving his hand a little. My mind was so foggy, I didn't know what to do.
Tears slowly started going down me face.
I just mumbled, "You're hopeless Armstrong," and walked away.
