All Of This, chapter 2
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"Dude! It's that one chick we met earlier!" Tre retorted. "Uh... ..em... Esmee! YEAH! That's her name!"
"You're a friend of Billie's?" Mike enquired.
"No," she glared at him, and then at Tre. "Gimme my god damn wallet." Esmee held out her hand, expecting to receive what she demanded for.
"Ohh... fiesty," Tre growled.
"Wait, Tre?!" Billie cut in. "You stole her wallet?!"
Esmee grabbed Tre by the collar and pulled him up. "Give me my wallet. That's the most valuable and needed thing I have."
"All the more reason for me to keep it," he smiled.
Billie Joe pushed her out of the way and took charge. "Listen buddy, give Esmee her wallet. You just got in this band, and you can get kicked right out." Tre threw over my wallet and she caught it. "Now, Esmee'll be staying with us for awhile. I want you all to get along. And don't push your luck, Tre. She's sleeping in your room." He dropped Tre on the ground, and turned to face her.
Esmee smiled.
"C'mon, Ezz, I'll show you to his room."
* * *
Esmee plopped down on the bottom bunk after unpacking her backpack. Billie Joe was still in the room, clearing out one of Tre's drawers.
"You know, you didn't have to do that," she said. "I couldn've taken care of Tre myself."
"Yeah? Well... he's been as asshole ever since he came into the band," Billie turned around and threw a load of boxers into a corner.
"What's your guys' name?" Esmee asked, very interested.
"Green Day."
"Hey, I've heard of you guys," she stated. "But I thought Al Sobrante was your drummer... ?"
Billie Joe sighed, "Johnny boy abandoned us to go to college. And Tre's a pretty close friend of ours, so... we asked him if he wanted to join us."
"Ahh... "
"Yeah." He threw the rest of Tre's clothes that were in the drawer in a pile. "Jesus Christ... how many fuckin' pairs of boxers does this kid have?"
"At least he has a clean pair for everyday," Esmee shrugged.
"No, Ezz. This dude wears his 'Wednesdays' everyday," Billie rubbed his hand against his forehead. "Except on Wednesday."
She scrunched up my nose, "Eww."
"Eww is right."
She glanced at the digital clock on the night table and sighed. It read '10:35pm'. Esmee was getting tired.
"Well, your clothes are in that drawer," Billie pointed at the third drawer down on the dressser. "So, make yourself at home. Search the fridge, take a gander around this piece of shit house, enjoy your stay."
She chuckled, "You're nicer than you appear to be."
"I get it from my mother," he smiled before walking out of the room.
Esmee laid back and closed her eyes. Thoughts of what Jamie was going through right now haunted her mind.
It's selfish of me to leave her with all of that pain. It's not fair. I have to go back. I don't care if I'll be killed. After all, I'm already dead on the inside.
More violent pictures of her sister swarmed around Esmee's head, causing tears to roll down her cheeks. She hopped off the bed and snatched her backpack when she heard the front door open and slam shut. She started stuffing all her clothes into her bag, her tears coming on harder as she whimpered more and more.
Esmee picked herself up and made a run for the front door. But Tre jumped in front of her and stopped her in her tracks. She let out a horrific cry as she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down along with her to the floor.
"W-what's wrong?" he asked, bring Esmee into a tight hug.
She shook her head before banging it lightly against his shoulder. "I... have to... back... Jamie."
Starting to feel dizzy, Emee leaned more into Tre and shut her eyes extremely tight.
"Esmee? What's the matter? Are you okay? Answer me, Ezz. You're scaring me. Ezz. Ezz?! ESMEE!" he shook her body roughly. "Oh shit."
That's when everything went black.
* * *
Esmee opened her eyes and found herself lying in Tre's bunk bed. Light was streaming though the window blinds, casting a shadow of her figure on the floor. She stood up from her place and walked over to mirror that was attached to the closet. She was still in the same clothes as the night before. Her eyes were red, and her blue eyeliner was smudged all over her face. The bedroom door was closed, but she wasn't taking any chances of getting dressed, for Tre might unexpectedly barge in.
She went over to her backpack, grabbing a pair of jeans, a Ramones t-shirt, her lingerie, and other womanly products. Esmee stepped out of the room and went straight into the bathroom acroos the hall. She locked the door behind her, turned on the hot water of the shower, and stripped down. She grabbed a towel from the cabinet, as well as a washcloth. Once the room steamed up a bit, Esmee got in the shower and began to scrub herself down. She picked up a bottle of shampoo and squeezed its contents into her hand. She rubbed it through her medium-length, red hair.
After rinsing off, Esmee leaned against the tiled wall, tired and confused.
She rubbed her pruney hand on her forehead, Ugh... What happened last night?
She slowly released herself from her thoughts as she watched blood going down the drain.
She sighed, "Merry Christmas, Esmee."
* * *
Esmee made her way out of the bathroom, dirty clothes in hand. She threw them on the floor in Tre's room and began her own little tour of the house.
As she made her way down the narrow hallway, Esmee heard a dim, low noise coming from the last room. She knocked on the door.
"Come in!"
She opened the door to reveal Mike, playing a Fender branded, four-string bass guitar. Its neck was wide-set, made for people with long fingers. And the body of it was a beige, tannish colour. It was beautiful.
"Hey, Esmee," Mike smiled up at her before going back to tuning his bass.
"W-where is everybody?" she asked.
"Out somewhere... probably getting stuff for the house," he answered, head still facing downwards.
"Why aren't you with them?"
"They wanted me to stay back and make sure you're alright," Mike brought his head back up, "How're you feeling, anyway?"
"Pretty good... " Esmee nodded, gazing upon the room. It was covered with posters of bands such as Operation Ivy, The Clash, and The Beatles. "What happened to me last night?"
Mike stood his bass up against the side of his bed. "From what Tre told us, you either; A, had a panic attack over someone named Jamie; or B, was so overwhelmed by his hottness that you passed out."
Esmee sighed, getting very aggrevated at Tre's doings. He was extremely annoying to her and she couldn't stand him much longer.
"Ezz, cut the dude some slack. He took care of you. He practically stayed up half the night making sure you were okay. You had him scared shitless," Mike said. "Yeah, he can be quite an asshole at times, but Tre does have a heart. A very warm, and loving one at that. And oh, God... I sound like my sister... "
She giggled lightly, "I guess you're right."
He signaled for Esmee to come over and sit next to him, which was exactly what she did. After slumping down on the bed, she gazed passed Mike and took a gander at his bass.
"Can you play?" he pointed at the four-stringed beauty.
She nodded, and he handed her his guitar, already plugged into a small amplifier. Esmee took in the feel of it, and its weight impact on her lap. Then, she began the riffs for "Jimmy Jazz".
Esmee smiled when she heard Mike lightly sing. "The police waslked in for Jimmy Jazz. I said, he ain't here, but he sure went past. Oh you're looking for Jimmy Jazz... "
She stopped in the middle of the song, laughing.
"Is my singing that bad?!"
"No!" Esmee choked out. "You singing is fine. It's just... me and my sister, Jamie, would do this all the time. I would play Sober and she would sing along."
"Sober?" Mike quirked an eyebrow at her.
"That's what I named my bass. It's a Fender, too." Esmee explained. "My parents gave it to me for my eleventh birthday. And when I went to bed, they decided to have their own little party and got trashed. I always wished they'd stay sober for atleast one night, and that's where I got the name from."
"Your 'rents are drunks?"
She looked down. "Yeah."
"So, that's why you ran away?" Mike enquired.
"That's part of the reason," she stated.
"How old's your sister?" he questioned.
"Twelve."
"Your bass still back at home?"
"Yeah," Esmee answered. "I couldn't take it with me."
"Oh... hmm... " Mike went into deep thought.
"A penny for your thoughts."
"Ah, nothing. Just had an idea," he shrugged. "But I lost it."
* * *
"Psst... Esmee... Wake up," Tre shook me awake.
She opened my eyes, "... Huh?... uh, wha? What time is it?"
"One twenty-four in the morning," he said.
"WHAT?! Bullshit... I'm going back to sleep."
"No, no! We're all gonna get the rest of your stuff back at your house," Tre stated.
"Oh."
"Now, get up!" he dragged Esmee out of bed. "Just keep your jammies on. Don't bother changing."
They ran outside to meet Mike and Billie Joe in the car. It was a blue, Ford Mustang. The exterior of it was shiny, and spotless. Mint-condition. The interior was cushioned, and clean. Perfect.
"Okay," Billie started the car. "Rules for my car; Never drive it without my permission. Don't crash. Do not rip up the seats. And please, keep the damn thing clean. This is my baby."
Esmee yawned, "Oh... um... okay?"
"Now, where we be goin'?"
"Umm... " she thought for a moment. "5213 Sunset Boulevard. Berkeley, California."
"God damn, that's all the way on the other side of the city." Mike sighed.
'"Yeah, well, you guys wanted to go."
"Just go back to sleep."
"Thank you," Esmee leaned against the backseat window and closed her weary eyes. Soon drifting off to sleep.
* * *
She woke up as the car slowed down to a stop. Looking out the window, Esmee saw that no lights were on in her house. It was dead. Completely dead. She wouldn't be surprised if her parents had passed out on the kitchen table.
Billie Joe, Mike, Tre, and Esmee exited the vehicle and snuck over to the side of the house where her room was located. She quietly slid her window open, and took the screen out. After setting it on a patch of grass, Billie picked her up by the sides, helping Esmee into her room. She moved around in the pitch black darkness, found the light switch, and flicked it on. She looked about. Her room was just as she left it.
She heard Billie talking to Tre and Mike, "You guys stay here. I'm gonna help Esmee get her stuff. We'll hand it to you out the window and you bring it to the car. Wait there, and we'll be out."
Mike catapulted Billie into my room, causing him to make a loud thud as he hit the floor.
"Mike, you dumbass!" he hissed.
"Shh! Let's get this stuff outside before someone wakes up," Esmee whispered.
Billie Joe stood up and brushed himself off. She snatched her guitar case and he grabbed her bass. They hurriedly put the instrument in the case, along with a bunch of papers with tabs on them. Esmee unplugged her small amp from an outlet by her closet and handed it to Mike, who was already holding her guitar.
"Hold on a minute, I have a few more things," she stated, turning around on her heel.
Her cat was sitting on her bed, staring at Esmee. She picked him up and took the box of cat food that was on her night table and handed them all to Tre.
"Aww... " he snuggled up against Gir's fur coat. "I get the kitty. Ish such a cute kitty. Mwa. Yesh you aw. Yesh you aw."
"Take all of it to the car, we'll be out there in a minute," Esmee said.
"Kitteeee caaaat," Tre sweet talked as he and Mike scurried into the car.
"Poor cat," she sighed before turning around and slamming into Billie Joe. "Oh geeze, sorry."
They locked eyes. They felt as if they weren't in her room any longer, but more of a... Wonderland. His orbs of green seemed brighter than usual to Esmee, atleast more than they had been since a day ago. When they met. She couldn't have been falling for a complete stranger, could she? That was impossible.
I'm just dreary, and dazed. That's all. After all, it's almost three in the morning.
Billie smiled at her, slowly leaning in closer. But Esmee looked away, eyeing a piece of paper that apparently Gir had been sitting on. She hadn't seen it before. She grabbed it off her bed, eyes wide in anger. Billie read over her shoulder:
KIDNAPPED: Esmee Holly Davis
Eyecolour: Brown
Hair Colour: Black
Height: 5'5"
Weight: [Unknown]
Other: Slightly chubby; Wears black always
REWARD: $1,000/CALL: 585-7627
Esmee's bedroom door burst open, revealing her dad with bloodshot eyes. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE YOU LITTLE FUCKER!?!"
"Run!" She retorted, shoving Billie Joe out the window. He grabbed her wrists on the way out, pulling her with him. They sprinted to the car and quickly got in the backseat. "Drive! Drive Drive!" Esmee commanded, smacking the driver's seat.
"What? What's going on?" Mike questioned.
"God damn it, Mike! She said GO!" Billie yelled.
And they sped off.
* * *
December 26
It's almost two in the afternoon. I've been awake since six. No one was up then, so I took a shower. Since then, I've stayed locked in Tre's room. He's still sleeping, but that's okay. He's not bothering anyone.
I haven't eaten anything all day. But I don't have any hunger pains. It doesn't amaze me in the slightest bit.
Yesterday was Christmas. I was surprised that the guys didn't do anything special. Billie Joe's mom lives in Rodeo, where she spent it with her boyfriend. Mike's adoptive mom and sister moved up north when he was about twelve. And Tre was too lazy off his ass, so he just gave his 'rents a call. And apparently, getting my bass, my amplifier, and my cat was my present from them. And now I have to go on with the rest of the day.
xx Esmee
She shut my diary and picked up her 'wanted' ad. It made Esmee sick to her stomach to know that her parents lied about how she left.
All they want is for me to come home so I can be beaten until I'm dead.
She kept reading the line 'Slightly chubby'.
It was extra nice of them to point that out. The bastards. I already know that I'm fat. I don't need their help.
Esmee's eyes scanned those two words over and over. She began to hear shuffling coming from the top bunk. Tre had been stirring awake. But she didn't pay any attention to it. She just kept reading. Until she was interrupted...
"You know, you're not fat."
"You're a friend of Billie's?" Mike enquired.
"No," she glared at him, and then at Tre. "Gimme my god damn wallet." Esmee held out her hand, expecting to receive what she demanded for.
"Ohh... fiesty," Tre growled.
"Wait, Tre?!" Billie cut in. "You stole her wallet?!"
Esmee grabbed Tre by the collar and pulled him up. "Give me my wallet. That's the most valuable and needed thing I have."
"All the more reason for me to keep it," he smiled.
Billie Joe pushed her out of the way and took charge. "Listen buddy, give Esmee her wallet. You just got in this band, and you can get kicked right out." Tre threw over my wallet and she caught it. "Now, Esmee'll be staying with us for awhile. I want you all to get along. And don't push your luck, Tre. She's sleeping in your room." He dropped Tre on the ground, and turned to face her.
Esmee smiled.
"C'mon, Ezz, I'll show you to his room."
* * *
Esmee plopped down on the bottom bunk after unpacking her backpack. Billie Joe was still in the room, clearing out one of Tre's drawers.
"You know, you didn't have to do that," she said. "I couldn've taken care of Tre myself."
"Yeah? Well... he's been as asshole ever since he came into the band," Billie turned around and threw a load of boxers into a corner.
"What's your guys' name?" Esmee asked, very interested.
"Green Day."
"Hey, I've heard of you guys," she stated. "But I thought Al Sobrante was your drummer... ?"
Billie Joe sighed, "Johnny boy abandoned us to go to college. And Tre's a pretty close friend of ours, so... we asked him if he wanted to join us."
"Ahh... "
"Yeah." He threw the rest of Tre's clothes that were in the drawer in a pile. "Jesus Christ... how many fuckin' pairs of boxers does this kid have?"
"At least he has a clean pair for everyday," Esmee shrugged.
"No, Ezz. This dude wears his 'Wednesdays' everyday," Billie rubbed his hand against his forehead. "Except on Wednesday."
She scrunched up my nose, "Eww."
"Eww is right."
She glanced at the digital clock on the night table and sighed. It read '10:35pm'. Esmee was getting tired.
"Well, your clothes are in that drawer," Billie pointed at the third drawer down on the dressser. "So, make yourself at home. Search the fridge, take a gander around this piece of shit house, enjoy your stay."
She chuckled, "You're nicer than you appear to be."
"I get it from my mother," he smiled before walking out of the room.
Esmee laid back and closed her eyes. Thoughts of what Jamie was going through right now haunted her mind.
It's selfish of me to leave her with all of that pain. It's not fair. I have to go back. I don't care if I'll be killed. After all, I'm already dead on the inside.
More violent pictures of her sister swarmed around Esmee's head, causing tears to roll down her cheeks. She hopped off the bed and snatched her backpack when she heard the front door open and slam shut. She started stuffing all her clothes into her bag, her tears coming on harder as she whimpered more and more.
Esmee picked herself up and made a run for the front door. But Tre jumped in front of her and stopped her in her tracks. She let out a horrific cry as she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down along with her to the floor.
"W-what's wrong?" he asked, bring Esmee into a tight hug.
She shook her head before banging it lightly against his shoulder. "I... have to... back... Jamie."
Starting to feel dizzy, Emee leaned more into Tre and shut her eyes extremely tight.
"Esmee? What's the matter? Are you okay? Answer me, Ezz. You're scaring me. Ezz. Ezz?! ESMEE!" he shook her body roughly. "Oh shit."
That's when everything went black.
* * *
Esmee opened her eyes and found herself lying in Tre's bunk bed. Light was streaming though the window blinds, casting a shadow of her figure on the floor. She stood up from her place and walked over to mirror that was attached to the closet. She was still in the same clothes as the night before. Her eyes were red, and her blue eyeliner was smudged all over her face. The bedroom door was closed, but she wasn't taking any chances of getting dressed, for Tre might unexpectedly barge in.
She went over to her backpack, grabbing a pair of jeans, a Ramones t-shirt, her lingerie, and other womanly products. Esmee stepped out of the room and went straight into the bathroom acroos the hall. She locked the door behind her, turned on the hot water of the shower, and stripped down. She grabbed a towel from the cabinet, as well as a washcloth. Once the room steamed up a bit, Esmee got in the shower and began to scrub herself down. She picked up a bottle of shampoo and squeezed its contents into her hand. She rubbed it through her medium-length, red hair.
After rinsing off, Esmee leaned against the tiled wall, tired and confused.
She rubbed her pruney hand on her forehead, Ugh... What happened last night?
She slowly released herself from her thoughts as she watched blood going down the drain.
She sighed, "Merry Christmas, Esmee."
* * *
Esmee made her way out of the bathroom, dirty clothes in hand. She threw them on the floor in Tre's room and began her own little tour of the house.
As she made her way down the narrow hallway, Esmee heard a dim, low noise coming from the last room. She knocked on the door.
"Come in!"
She opened the door to reveal Mike, playing a Fender branded, four-string bass guitar. Its neck was wide-set, made for people with long fingers. And the body of it was a beige, tannish colour. It was beautiful.
"Hey, Esmee," Mike smiled up at her before going back to tuning his bass.
"W-where is everybody?" she asked.
"Out somewhere... probably getting stuff for the house," he answered, head still facing downwards.
"Why aren't you with them?"
"They wanted me to stay back and make sure you're alright," Mike brought his head back up, "How're you feeling, anyway?"
"Pretty good... " Esmee nodded, gazing upon the room. It was covered with posters of bands such as Operation Ivy, The Clash, and The Beatles. "What happened to me last night?"
Mike stood his bass up against the side of his bed. "From what Tre told us, you either; A, had a panic attack over someone named Jamie; or B, was so overwhelmed by his hottness that you passed out."
Esmee sighed, getting very aggrevated at Tre's doings. He was extremely annoying to her and she couldn't stand him much longer.
"Ezz, cut the dude some slack. He took care of you. He practically stayed up half the night making sure you were okay. You had him scared shitless," Mike said. "Yeah, he can be quite an asshole at times, but Tre does have a heart. A very warm, and loving one at that. And oh, God... I sound like my sister... "
She giggled lightly, "I guess you're right."
He signaled for Esmee to come over and sit next to him, which was exactly what she did. After slumping down on the bed, she gazed passed Mike and took a gander at his bass.
"Can you play?" he pointed at the four-stringed beauty.
She nodded, and he handed her his guitar, already plugged into a small amplifier. Esmee took in the feel of it, and its weight impact on her lap. Then, she began the riffs for "Jimmy Jazz".
Esmee smiled when she heard Mike lightly sing. "The police waslked in for Jimmy Jazz. I said, he ain't here, but he sure went past. Oh you're looking for Jimmy Jazz... "
She stopped in the middle of the song, laughing.
"Is my singing that bad?!"
"No!" Esmee choked out. "You singing is fine. It's just... me and my sister, Jamie, would do this all the time. I would play Sober and she would sing along."
"Sober?" Mike quirked an eyebrow at her.
"That's what I named my bass. It's a Fender, too." Esmee explained. "My parents gave it to me for my eleventh birthday. And when I went to bed, they decided to have their own little party and got trashed. I always wished they'd stay sober for atleast one night, and that's where I got the name from."
"Your 'rents are drunks?"
She looked down. "Yeah."
"So, that's why you ran away?" Mike enquired.
"That's part of the reason," she stated.
"How old's your sister?" he questioned.
"Twelve."
"Your bass still back at home?"
"Yeah," Esmee answered. "I couldn't take it with me."
"Oh... hmm... " Mike went into deep thought.
"A penny for your thoughts."
"Ah, nothing. Just had an idea," he shrugged. "But I lost it."
* * *
"Psst... Esmee... Wake up," Tre shook me awake.
She opened my eyes, "... Huh?... uh, wha? What time is it?"
"One twenty-four in the morning," he said.
"WHAT?! Bullshit... I'm going back to sleep."
"No, no! We're all gonna get the rest of your stuff back at your house," Tre stated.
"Oh."
"Now, get up!" he dragged Esmee out of bed. "Just keep your jammies on. Don't bother changing."
They ran outside to meet Mike and Billie Joe in the car. It was a blue, Ford Mustang. The exterior of it was shiny, and spotless. Mint-condition. The interior was cushioned, and clean. Perfect.
"Okay," Billie started the car. "Rules for my car; Never drive it without my permission. Don't crash. Do not rip up the seats. And please, keep the damn thing clean. This is my baby."
Esmee yawned, "Oh... um... okay?"
"Now, where we be goin'?"
"Umm... " she thought for a moment. "5213 Sunset Boulevard. Berkeley, California."
"God damn, that's all the way on the other side of the city." Mike sighed.
'"Yeah, well, you guys wanted to go."
"Just go back to sleep."
"Thank you," Esmee leaned against the backseat window and closed her weary eyes. Soon drifting off to sleep.
* * *
She woke up as the car slowed down to a stop. Looking out the window, Esmee saw that no lights were on in her house. It was dead. Completely dead. She wouldn't be surprised if her parents had passed out on the kitchen table.
Billie Joe, Mike, Tre, and Esmee exited the vehicle and snuck over to the side of the house where her room was located. She quietly slid her window open, and took the screen out. After setting it on a patch of grass, Billie picked her up by the sides, helping Esmee into her room. She moved around in the pitch black darkness, found the light switch, and flicked it on. She looked about. Her room was just as she left it.
She heard Billie talking to Tre and Mike, "You guys stay here. I'm gonna help Esmee get her stuff. We'll hand it to you out the window and you bring it to the car. Wait there, and we'll be out."
Mike catapulted Billie into my room, causing him to make a loud thud as he hit the floor.
"Mike, you dumbass!" he hissed.
"Shh! Let's get this stuff outside before someone wakes up," Esmee whispered.
Billie Joe stood up and brushed himself off. She snatched her guitar case and he grabbed her bass. They hurriedly put the instrument in the case, along with a bunch of papers with tabs on them. Esmee unplugged her small amp from an outlet by her closet and handed it to Mike, who was already holding her guitar.
"Hold on a minute, I have a few more things," she stated, turning around on her heel.
Her cat was sitting on her bed, staring at Esmee. She picked him up and took the box of cat food that was on her night table and handed them all to Tre.
"Aww... " he snuggled up against Gir's fur coat. "I get the kitty. Ish such a cute kitty. Mwa. Yesh you aw. Yesh you aw."
"Take all of it to the car, we'll be out there in a minute," Esmee said.
"Kitteeee caaaat," Tre sweet talked as he and Mike scurried into the car.
"Poor cat," she sighed before turning around and slamming into Billie Joe. "Oh geeze, sorry."
They locked eyes. They felt as if they weren't in her room any longer, but more of a... Wonderland. His orbs of green seemed brighter than usual to Esmee, atleast more than they had been since a day ago. When they met. She couldn't have been falling for a complete stranger, could she? That was impossible.
I'm just dreary, and dazed. That's all. After all, it's almost three in the morning.
Billie smiled at her, slowly leaning in closer. But Esmee looked away, eyeing a piece of paper that apparently Gir had been sitting on. She hadn't seen it before. She grabbed it off her bed, eyes wide in anger. Billie read over her shoulder:
KIDNAPPED: Esmee Holly Davis
Eyecolour: Brown
Hair Colour: Black
Height: 5'5"
Weight: [Unknown]
Other: Slightly chubby; Wears black always
REWARD: $1,000/CALL: 585-7627
Esmee's bedroom door burst open, revealing her dad with bloodshot eyes. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE YOU LITTLE FUCKER!?!"
"Run!" She retorted, shoving Billie Joe out the window. He grabbed her wrists on the way out, pulling her with him. They sprinted to the car and quickly got in the backseat. "Drive! Drive Drive!" Esmee commanded, smacking the driver's seat.
"What? What's going on?" Mike questioned.
"God damn it, Mike! She said GO!" Billie yelled.
And they sped off.
* * *
December 26
It's almost two in the afternoon. I've been awake since six. No one was up then, so I took a shower. Since then, I've stayed locked in Tre's room. He's still sleeping, but that's okay. He's not bothering anyone.
I haven't eaten anything all day. But I don't have any hunger pains. It doesn't amaze me in the slightest bit.
Yesterday was Christmas. I was surprised that the guys didn't do anything special. Billie Joe's mom lives in Rodeo, where she spent it with her boyfriend. Mike's adoptive mom and sister moved up north when he was about twelve. And Tre was too lazy off his ass, so he just gave his 'rents a call. And apparently, getting my bass, my amplifier, and my cat was my present from them. And now I have to go on with the rest of the day.
xx Esmee
She shut my diary and picked up her 'wanted' ad. It made Esmee sick to her stomach to know that her parents lied about how she left.
All they want is for me to come home so I can be beaten until I'm dead.
She kept reading the line 'Slightly chubby'.
It was extra nice of them to point that out. The bastards. I already know that I'm fat. I don't need their help.
Esmee's eyes scanned those two words over and over. She began to hear shuffling coming from the top bunk. Tre had been stirring awake. But she didn't pay any attention to it. She just kept reading. Until she was interrupted...
"You know, you're not fat."
