How Can I Love My Music Teacher?, chapter 2

"You... you..." I stuttered. My eye twitched for dramatic effect.

"I told you you wouldn't react well," he said disappointedly. He turned around and flipped through the papers again. I silently moved to behind him. I put my hand on his shoulder and he jumped. I mean, he didn't jump, he was just surprised.

"No, it's... it isn't bad..." I trailed off. He turned his head to see if I was just pulling a prank, and most of the time, a face's expression tells that. But no, I'm serious.

"It isn't?" he squeaked. I shook my head.

"It's only six years' difference. What's the big deal?" I smiled, making him smile.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Then again, it would be like me dating an eleven year old..." I shuddered. "But it's different when people are older. And I'll turn eighteen soon, so it'll be legal. Oh, then it's only five years' difference."

"Yeah... so, um..."

"Um, what?"

"I guess then, do you want to come with me for lunch? We both have about an hour left." he asked.

"Sure!" I smiled. We stood there for a couple of seconds. "Oh, we have to leave, you know."

"Oh, right. I forgot..." Billie replied. He smiled.

"Love it," I commented.

"Love what?"

"Your smile..." I muttered. He smiled again.

"Thanks, and same here." I showed it off.

"Yes, and I'm extremely happy I got my braces off two months ago!"

"Good! No wonder they're perfect..."

"Let's go!" I remembered. We headed out the door and down the hall. We almost made it through the door when the principal barked at us. Well, not barked, but you get the idea.

"Where are you going, you two? Aren't you supposed to be in class or at lunch?!" His breath reeked of something unimaginable, and I'm standing ten feet away.

"I'll handle it," Billie whispered. "Sir, I'm taking my wife out to lunch, she just dropped by to remind me that we had plans."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Armstrong, Mrs. Armstrong. I didn't know, you're just so..."

"Short?" Billie tried. I could 'see' the principal blushing.

"Carry on then." And I heard his footsteps trail away.

"That was close," I sighed.

"Yeah, come on, let's go before we get caught for real!" He led me to his black BMW and opened the door for me, then he got in himself. As soon as he turned on the car, the radio blared a great kind of music. I listened until he turned it down a few seconds later. "Sorry, I forgot it was on."

"No, I like it!" I exclaimed. I turned it back up. "Who is this?" I yelled over the music. Billie looked a bit embarrassed.

"Us..." he muttered.

"Really? Who's the singer?" Bad move. He blushed. "Oh, right, sorry. You sound really different!"

"Yeah, I'd rather not say the reason..."

"It's all right, I wasn't asking." I listened some more. "What's this song?"

"Going to Pasalacqua." he answered.

"Cool. I love punk music," I sighed. I rested my head on my hand and stared at the road.

"Are you bored?" he asked.

"A bit, it is a car."

"True," He sighed. "Do you even want to go back to school?"

"Not really, but they've already marked me as 'here,' and I'm not... but they don't even know I'm gone! I skip class a lot," I confessed.

"Do you want to skip it for the rest of the day?" he asked evilly.

"Sure," I replied, same amount of evilness.

"Wonderful. I'll just call and say I'm sick. I caught something from that girl... what's her name? Layla." He replied, faking coughed.

"Piano girl. She's weird," I responded. Billie nodded. Suddenly, a thought popped into my head. "I have a question."

"Actually, that was a comment..."

"No, this is the question: why me?"

"What do you mean?"

"The entire school, the entire city, and then there's me. Why me?"

"I don't know. Probably because you're the only nice one, cool one, one I can relate to, one who likes music, one who's pretty, one who--"

"You think I'm pretty?" I stared blankly.

"Uh, let me think about that, uh-duh!" he said sarcastically. I looked at my purple hair, glanced at my green eyes in the mirror, looked at my clothes... not exactly a beauty queen.

"Uh... okay..."

"You are!"

"And so is a pumpkin."

"You are no pumpkin!"

"I beg to differ."

"That's a good line."

"What?"

"Song talk," He chuckled. Finally we pulled into the parking lot of a semi-fancy restaraunt.

"I'm not really dressed for the occasion..." I said, tugging at my 3/4 jeans, looking at my striped tights. My Converse were also worn thin and a red tank top clung to me.

"Neither am I."

"And this place looks expensive..."

"Don't fret. I have it all worked out. Trust me." I shrugged and followed him in. Inside, we met up with a lady who looked like him. "Hi, Mom!"

"Hey, Billie Joe!" she exclaimed.

"I'm glad you work here instead of the old place. Fancier."

"Yeah. Who's your friend?" She looked me over.

"Mom, this is..."

"I think maybe I should say it. Well, let's just say... you're half right. I'm Christine, Billie's... erm... girlfriend," I said nice and slow. She just blinked.

"That's nice, dear," she said. "I don't know why you're acting so strange."
"Mom, can I speak to you?" Billie asked. He pulled her away and motioned he'd be back.

Billie's POV:

"Mom, here's the thing: You know that new teaching job I got for a side-job?"

"Yes," my mom answered.

"She's.. kinda... maybe a... student?" She went white. Then she slapped me.

"Billie Joe Armstrong! How old is this girl?" she asked angrily.

"She's almost eighteen."

"She's a minor! If anyone catches this while she still is, you can be classified as a pedophile! I'm ashamed of you! And you could be fired for having a student/teacher relationship!" she hissed.

"But Mom!" I whined. "I... I think I actually love her!"

"Well then, you better un-love her," she whispered coldly. I've never seen her like this. What's her problem? She walked away and seated some other customers. I went back to Christine.

Christine's POV:

"Hey, we've got to go," Billie said with a frown.

"Why? What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's just... My mom knows how old you are and she's worried I'll be classified as a pedophile if we're figured out. It's not like we've been doing... stuff... together. We haven't even kissed. Or hugged for that matter..." he drifted off, looking confused. While he wasn't looking, I wrapped my arms around him.

"There. A hug. All better?" He wrapped his own arms around me.

"Yep, all better! Now let's go before my mom slaps me again." He brought me back outside.

"So, scratch that plan. What's up for lunch?" I asked after my stomach growled. We climbed into the car and the music played again. I turned it down and awaited his answer.

"I don't know. I would ask if you'd just want to go to the mall or something but..."

"But what?"

"Have you ever heard of a band called 'Sweet Children'?"

"Yeah, they rock! But didn't they change their name to..." I looked at him with wide eyes.

"Now you know why we can't just go off to the mall," he said. "I know, I'm retarded. To escape the teenies, go get a job at a high school!"

"It's okay, I didn't even see you until class, and the class didn't know you. There's only us three, and only I know you. Besides, only my friend, Chase, and I know about your band, everyone else listens to..." I shuddered. "Britney Spears." He shivered.

"Creepy."

"Yeah." I looked at him while he was driving. What a cutie. The only problem is, he's a teacher. Mortal enemy here! It's not right! What is up with that? I guess he caught me staring at him.

"What?" he asked, starting to fakely panic. "Do I have a spider on my face?! GET IT OFF!" he screamed. I put my hand on his cheek.

"No spiders here," I said softly.

"Good, because that was scary..." I held my hand there and he put one of his on mine, keeping one hand on the wheel. Sooner or later we pulled off of the highway I forgot to mention we were on, and turned onto my street.

"How do you know where I live?" I asked.

"What?"

"I asked, how do you know where I live? This is my street..."

"I live on this street..." he answered with a confused look on his face. He pulled into the driveway of the house next door to mine.