Another kind of Idiot. (Sequel to Loser. Weirdo. Faggot.), chapter 1

Billie held his head down. It was Graduation Day. But not his. Mike's. After that day that Adrienne had took off from his life, he never went to school again. He stopped caring. School was practice for the real world; something he was already way to familiar with.

Something in his stomach did a back flip. He had always planned on leaving Oakland. But he never did. "Comon, don't leave Oakland. People here care about cha. Don't throw that away." He never had left because of those words. Her words.

He had everything packed and ready to leave. He had had his mom's car keys in his pocket. He had gotten the money. Long hours of working odd jobs had gotten him the money. But because of Adrienne, he had not left.

Adrienne. It was a very touchy subject for him. She was fading from his memories. When she left, he took it hard. He always thought about her. Always talked about her. But the days he talked turned into months. And by the time the last month had rolled around and amounted to two years, he had almost forgotten. Almost, but not quite.

The annoying boom box playing "Pomp and Circumstance" on the stage knocked Billie out of thought. One by one, he saw his class except their diplomas. He knew he should have been up there. He never made the good grades, like Mike did, but he would have been smart enough to graduate. Another regret was added onto his list.


His eyes brightened up when he saw Mike: Scared, nervous, and looking a little relieved. He looked so much older now. More like a responsible grown-up, and less like some punk kid. But maybe it was just the graduation robe. He doubted it.

Billie received a nudge in the side. None other then Tre Cool was sitting next to him. After a few differences were settled out, the two were inseparable. Hanging out, smoking pot, goofing off. They were still kids at heart. And they probably always were going to be.

Tre looked ridiculous. Brown oversized tweed coat, with black pants and a tropical tie that would make you throw up fruit. His hair was actually looking semi kept for once. He had tried for hours to get out the green hair dye. And for the most part, he succeeded.

Billie was proud of Tre. He hadn't exactly finished school either, but was at least willing to try to go back during the summer. Billie wondered how he could survive it. School in the summer was insane. But for a kid like Tre, it was like a death sentence. Not being outside; watching everyone else have fun; doing homework- he would be pronounced legally dead within the first week.

Billie nudged him back, a bit harder than usual. He wanted to get Tre to scream. Right in front of everybody, during the middle of the ceremony. Tre just flinched, and bit his lip a little. Dammit. Billie held his head back down.


* * *
Billie figured he would miss the parties. But not nearly as much as he was now. Tre had been invited to all of them. Tre was the part animal. Tre WAS the party. He would have just been a tag a long; the classroom loser who didn't graduate. He was a drop out. He didn't belong at the parties. At least he could hang out with John.

* * *

John Kiffenmeyer a.k.a. Al Sobrante. The drummer for Green Day, their band. Up until a few months ago, they had been going with the title of Sweet Children. Until they made a record. They weren't nearly as big as when they were Sweet Children, but gaining more fame each time they played out.

John was tall. Taller than Billie or Mike, who after a short time with the guitar, was now playing bass for the band. He was tall, handsome, and his likeability was helped by he looked like everyone's big brother. Billie felt himself calling John, who, like him, wouldn't be at the parties. John was 21- able to vote, able to (legally) drink. He felt better about that.

The phone rang. It rang again. Billie sighed. He wasn't gonna wait for John to pick up the phone. It wasn't his fault he was slow. Besides, Billie had much better things to do- Mope around, get high, think about his mistakes. But it wouldn't help the mood he was already in.

Someone finally picked up the phone. "Hey, this is John. Who do you need to speak to?" His voice was deep compared to Billie's, whose voice never really went through much of a change.

"Johnny! This is Bill. What's up?" Billie heard silence on the other end.

"Hey... .Bill. I'm good... " he had a hard time making the words come out.

"Dude, you mind if I crash over there for a while, man? These grad parties are fucking stupid."

"Uh, I'm not sure if you can... I have... work to do."

"Ha ha," Billie laughed sourly. "Nice joke. I'm desperate. Open your doors for a poor defenseless kid, for once."

"Bill. I told you, I can't. I have to prep for... " His voice became quieter. "... college."

Billie was shocked. College? This must be some kind of joke. John was a slacker is he ever met one. He was the king. Now what was this bullshit about college? He couldn't be serious, could he?

"Dude, what the fuck? College is for idiots."

"Bill, really. I have to get stuff straight. I'm twenty-one. Twenty-fucking-one. I need something to carry me through life. I'm not holding on to my parent's hands anymore."

"Then, what does this mean for the band?" he put a note of accusation in his voice.

"Well, Bill, it was just some little thing. We were just shittin around, ya know? I can't be in your guys' fantasy any more. Sorry." He added the last part before he hung up the phone. Billie slumped down in his chair. Great.

No drummer, all of his pot was gone; he was a high school dropout, a failure. He felt like he was sixteen again. It was back to square one.