Walking Alone, chapter 3
It was a lazy winter day. I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, a cool breeze brushing my face. The only sound was a clock ticking in the far corner of the room. Angry, I threw my shoe at the clock. It crashed to the ground, the ticking coming to a final end. It had been exactly 4 months since my dad's death, and our whole family was a mess. Mom tried to act like it never happened, and I hated her for that. My brothers and sisters went out a lot more often and hung with different friends. I had become somewhat anti-social, like a turtle who keeps his head in his shell.
My only escape from this world was Blue. I played constantly, ignoring my schoolwork and household chores, trying to find anyway to play as much as I could. I did what my Dad told me to do. Now, I picked Blue up and began to play. I'd even started writing songs. Right as I began to forget what room I was in and became so intent on my music, my mother knocked on the door.
"Billie Joe? Come on, we're all going to David's basketball game." I glared at her. "I don't want to," I replied. My mom thought I was going through another "phase", because after all, I was only 10 years old. Almost 11, I thought, because my birthday was only a few days away.
"We all need to get out of the house and get our minds off things." She said firmly.
"You're telling me! You're the one who pretends it never happened!" I yelled.
"Billie Joe, I'm not going to get into this here. Now get up and get your coat. We're going." My mom left the room. I was too tired and miserable to argue, so I grabbed my coat and squeezed into the car with my 5 other siblings. Everyone was going.
"Billie Joe, move over! You're hogging all the space!" Holly gave me a shove. "OW! Shut up! I'm not moving!" I yelled. "YOU TWO! STOP FIGHTING!" My mom practically screamed. She'd never screamed, my mother. She'd always been a fairly quiet lady. Nobody spoke for the rest of the car ride.
When we got to the high school, which was in a different town, I slipped away from my family and wandered around the school for a while. Eventually I wound up in the cafeteria. I could see another kid, who looked to be about my age, sitting alone at a table. Normally I would've ignored him, but something told me I should go over there.
He had strawberry-blonde hair that stuck out in random directions. He was sitting, staring at his hands, and didn't look up when I sat down across from him. "Hey," I said. He looked up, his faint blue eyes staring into mine. He said nothing, so I tried to strike up conversation.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Mike," He said in a quiet voice. I nodded. "Mine's Billie Joe." I said, even though he didn't ask me.
For a while we said nothing. Then he randomly asked, "Is it spelled 'B-I-L-L-I-E'?" I nodded. Most people spelled it with and 'ly' at the end. "Yeah... how'd you know?" Mike just grinned. "Original... like you, I guess," He said. I liked the way he thought, and smiled too.
"You should now, I'm not usually this social," I added. He nodded. "Yeah, same here." And for the next long hour and a half, Mike and I talked about our homes and families. We had a lot in common, and he lived nearby, too. Mike was put up for adoption as a baby because his real parents were drug addicts, and now his adoptive parents were separating. Which just goes to show you, things for me could be a lot worse. In fact, I felt almost inferior to him when I told him about my father's death. But he was very sympathetic.
"BILLIE JOE! There you are! We've been looking all over for you!" Mom suddenly burst into the cafeteria. She stopped when she saw Mike. It had been a long time since I'd been with anyone my age, and I'd completely separated myself from my old friends. She gave him a warm and friendly smile, as if her life were just fine and dandy. I sighed.
"Mom, this is Mike." I said. "Well, hello, Mike. It's nice to meet you," Mom said. Mike perked up a little bit. "You too, Ma'am," he said politely. For some reason, I wanted to burst out laughing. I'd just met the kid, and saying something like "Ma'am" seemed weird, for him.
"Maybe you could come over to our house sometime, Mike," Mom eyed me, as if I'd say no. "I'd love to, Mrs. Armstrong," Mike grinned. Mom smiled, too. At least they get along good, I thought. "Come on, Billie Joe, we have to get home now. Mike, would you like a ride home?" I wanted to yell, "WE HAVE NO ROOM IN THE FUCKING CAR!!" But I kept my mouth shut. "No, thank you, my mother is coming to pick me up." Mike replied. "OK, well, I'll meet you out at the car, Billie Joe." Mom left.
I glared at her back. "Sometimes I hate her," I told Mike as soon as she was out of earshot. Mike nodded. "Yeah... I know what you mean. But you can't blame her. She's got 6 kids to raise alone now. She's probably still in denial and is trying to focus on her family without remembering your dad."
I stared at him. That had never occurred to me. Suddenly I felt guilty and ashamed of myself, for treating my mother like shit. "It'll get better. Trust me," Mike said quietly. I nodded, even though I wasn't sure if things would get better.
My only escape from this world was Blue. I played constantly, ignoring my schoolwork and household chores, trying to find anyway to play as much as I could. I did what my Dad told me to do. Now, I picked Blue up and began to play. I'd even started writing songs. Right as I began to forget what room I was in and became so intent on my music, my mother knocked on the door.
"Billie Joe? Come on, we're all going to David's basketball game." I glared at her. "I don't want to," I replied. My mom thought I was going through another "phase", because after all, I was only 10 years old. Almost 11, I thought, because my birthday was only a few days away.
"We all need to get out of the house and get our minds off things." She said firmly.
"You're telling me! You're the one who pretends it never happened!" I yelled.
"Billie Joe, I'm not going to get into this here. Now get up and get your coat. We're going." My mom left the room. I was too tired and miserable to argue, so I grabbed my coat and squeezed into the car with my 5 other siblings. Everyone was going.
"Billie Joe, move over! You're hogging all the space!" Holly gave me a shove. "OW! Shut up! I'm not moving!" I yelled. "YOU TWO! STOP FIGHTING!" My mom practically screamed. She'd never screamed, my mother. She'd always been a fairly quiet lady. Nobody spoke for the rest of the car ride.
When we got to the high school, which was in a different town, I slipped away from my family and wandered around the school for a while. Eventually I wound up in the cafeteria. I could see another kid, who looked to be about my age, sitting alone at a table. Normally I would've ignored him, but something told me I should go over there.
He had strawberry-blonde hair that stuck out in random directions. He was sitting, staring at his hands, and didn't look up when I sat down across from him. "Hey," I said. He looked up, his faint blue eyes staring into mine. He said nothing, so I tried to strike up conversation.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Mike," He said in a quiet voice. I nodded. "Mine's Billie Joe." I said, even though he didn't ask me.
For a while we said nothing. Then he randomly asked, "Is it spelled 'B-I-L-L-I-E'?" I nodded. Most people spelled it with and 'ly' at the end. "Yeah... how'd you know?" Mike just grinned. "Original... like you, I guess," He said. I liked the way he thought, and smiled too.
"You should now, I'm not usually this social," I added. He nodded. "Yeah, same here." And for the next long hour and a half, Mike and I talked about our homes and families. We had a lot in common, and he lived nearby, too. Mike was put up for adoption as a baby because his real parents were drug addicts, and now his adoptive parents were separating. Which just goes to show you, things for me could be a lot worse. In fact, I felt almost inferior to him when I told him about my father's death. But he was very sympathetic.
"BILLIE JOE! There you are! We've been looking all over for you!" Mom suddenly burst into the cafeteria. She stopped when she saw Mike. It had been a long time since I'd been with anyone my age, and I'd completely separated myself from my old friends. She gave him a warm and friendly smile, as if her life were just fine and dandy. I sighed.
"Mom, this is Mike." I said. "Well, hello, Mike. It's nice to meet you," Mom said. Mike perked up a little bit. "You too, Ma'am," he said politely. For some reason, I wanted to burst out laughing. I'd just met the kid, and saying something like "Ma'am" seemed weird, for him.
"Maybe you could come over to our house sometime, Mike," Mom eyed me, as if I'd say no. "I'd love to, Mrs. Armstrong," Mike grinned. Mom smiled, too. At least they get along good, I thought. "Come on, Billie Joe, we have to get home now. Mike, would you like a ride home?" I wanted to yell, "WE HAVE NO ROOM IN THE FUCKING CAR!!" But I kept my mouth shut. "No, thank you, my mother is coming to pick me up." Mike replied. "OK, well, I'll meet you out at the car, Billie Joe." Mom left.
I glared at her back. "Sometimes I hate her," I told Mike as soon as she was out of earshot. Mike nodded. "Yeah... I know what you mean. But you can't blame her. She's got 6 kids to raise alone now. She's probably still in denial and is trying to focus on her family without remembering your dad."
I stared at him. That had never occurred to me. Suddenly I felt guilty and ashamed of myself, for treating my mother like shit. "It'll get better. Trust me," Mike said quietly. I nodded, even though I wasn't sure if things would get better.
