Are you leaving home?, chapter 2
*Still My P.O.V.*
I looked around the bus and all of the children seemed happy. Some of them had even brought there mums or dads with them. First I looked to my left and saw a girl of about 8 years old. Her mum was plaiting her hair and telling her all about what they were going to see today.
"And we're going to see a big clock called Big Ben; do you know why he's called that Sophie?"
"Because he's huuuuuuuuuge!" the girl replied.
I smiled to myself and then turned to look in front of me. I saw a very young boy had fallen asleep in his fathers' arms. In fact, everywhere I looked I began to realise why I was so different from everyone else, why I thought less of myself than everyone else.
I do remember a time when my life was the same as every other girl my age. That was back when my Dad was around, so that must have been at least 10 years ago. Christmases were the best, I remember when Dad used to lift me up to put the angel on the top of the tree and mum used to make the Christmas pudding and hide all my presents the night before.
But now it's all changed, my dad's dead and my mums a drunk. As soon as the funeral was over she started drinking, her friends told me. I couldn't blame her really, grief is a hard thing to overcome, but so is being an alcoholic. It was almost every night she hit me. Even Christmas. The only time I escaped her beatings was when she was too drunk to stand up; but believe me, she made up for it. All her friends left her and now so was I. She needed help but she wouldn't listen, not to me, not to her friends, not to anyone and now she was alone.
***
The journey on the bus was drawing to a close. I had spent so much time thinking I hadn't realised how the time had passed. In fact, I had thought that much I was beginning to feel guilty. It didn't matter about the scars both emotional and physical, she was on her own and she needed me with her. She couldn't manage by herself. If I didn't try to intervene she would probably end up drinking herself to death.
I was thinking about Green Day now. How important they were to me. It sounded so stupid when I thought about it but their songs had helped me through stuff I never thought I would. I had been in love with them for years and as the time passed, the more I listened to there music and the more I loved it. I always thought Mike and Tré were great, but Billie. He was something else. He was just so amazing and I always wished someday I would be like him. So talented and so lovely... .
But again my train of thought was interrupted as I felt something hit me on the head. It was a cuddly toy. A few seconds later a little girl walked up and said it was her puppy. Well, I wasn't particularly busy and felt I needed to have a conversation with someone, even if it was with a six year old girl.
"Hello, I believe this is your dog?" I said
"Yes," she replied, grabbing the stuffed toy and hugging it tightly.
"Is your mummy or daddy here?" I asked
"No."
I wondered how a six year old girl could be expected to manage on her own. I was going to ask her if she was OK, but she spoke first.
"I came with Stacey and her Mum, but I don't like Stacey. She threw Patch and now he needs the nee-naa."
I guessed Patch was the dog and I took the 'nee-naa' as being an ambulance. I couldn't help but giggle remembering how young and innocent children are.
So I ended up playing doctors and nurses with the little girl and her toy dog, but it was the most fun I'd had in a long time. Innocent fun with someone who liked me, who wanted me to be there with her.
Soon she fell asleep on my shoulder. Well, it would have been quite early in the morning for a young child. As I looked at her, I couldn't help but see shades of me. She was on her own, surrounded by people who she didn't like, but her parents didn't care. I may have read the situation all wrong but that's how I saw it.
***
The bus drove past many landmarks. The London eye, the Houses of Parliament but I didn't care. Wow, it's a building, and oh, look, there's another one. I woke up the girl and we got off the bus to go to the theatre the so called 'highlight' of the day. The lamest thing that could happen and yet everyone looked so excited.
We got in, and guess what? I was sitting on my own. Right on the end of the row so everyone who walked past could see me, and right now I didn't want anyone to see me. I was ashamed of who I was. I was going to leave that girl and I was going to leave my own mother to struggle on her own.
The curtain went up and everyone started clapping and I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember was someone pulling on my sleeve and when I opened my eyes the lights were up and I guessed it was the interval. I looked to whatever was pulling my arm and saw a young boy of about eight years old with another boy of about 11.
"Do you know where the ice creams are?" the older one asked, shocking me with his American accent.
"Sure, follow me," I replied, taking the youngest boys hand.
When we got there, I was going to ask if they were on there own, but when they bought five ice creams I gathered that they weren't. I was even more surprised when the eldest boy handed me one.
"Here, take it."
"Oh, I couldn't," I replied "One of your friends will be without one."
"No, we bought this one especially for you," he said, putting it in my hand.
"Yeh, because your pretty," the youngest one added, followed by a nudge from his friend.
Before I could say thank you, they had ran off. Strangely enough, they both looked familiar. I wondered if they were with our group but they had run in the opposite direction.
I walked back to my seat and before I could think any more the show started again.
***
*The Eldest Boy's P.O.V.*
Aw, man. Why does Dad have to find all the pretty girls before me? He was the one who sent me down there, you know, so he could see her face and he was the one who asked me to buy her an ice cream. He didn't seem to notice that Mum was sitting right next to him when he asked me.
I forgot to ask her name as well. Never mind, it's not like we're ever going to see her again.
***
*My P.O.V.*
So, the time had come for the moment that would change my life. I looked at all the children getting on the bus and I knew that if I was going to chicken out, now was my time. To my surprise I stayed strong, in a sort of trance, my eyes transfixed on the bus as it pulled away from the stop. No one had even noticed I wasn't there. The tears poured down my cheeks as I realised there was no going back. I slumped against the wall of the theatre behind me and began to realise what I had done.
I was on my own in the middle of nowhere. No house, no job and very little money. I really hadn't thought this through as much as I should have done. I tried to ignore everything around me, but I heard a familiar voice.
"Hi!"
"Hi, pretty lady."
It was the two boys again. I got up wiping away my tears, praying I hadn't smudged my eyeliner. Luckily they didn't seem to notice I had been crying.
"Dad, come here, it's the ice-cream lady!"
I wasn't keen on the nickname but when I saw 'Dad' I couldn't think or breathe. I knew that I recognised those two boys and now I knew why. I looked at the handsome man in front of my eyes, the hair, the eyeliner, the smile -it was all there. It was definitely him, my hero, my idol.
"Nice to meet you," he said, putting his hand out for me to shake.
I shook his hand back, completely in shock.
"Nice to meet you too, Billie Joe Armstrong."
I looked around the bus and all of the children seemed happy. Some of them had even brought there mums or dads with them. First I looked to my left and saw a girl of about 8 years old. Her mum was plaiting her hair and telling her all about what they were going to see today.
"And we're going to see a big clock called Big Ben; do you know why he's called that Sophie?"
"Because he's huuuuuuuuuge!" the girl replied.
I smiled to myself and then turned to look in front of me. I saw a very young boy had fallen asleep in his fathers' arms. In fact, everywhere I looked I began to realise why I was so different from everyone else, why I thought less of myself than everyone else.
I do remember a time when my life was the same as every other girl my age. That was back when my Dad was around, so that must have been at least 10 years ago. Christmases were the best, I remember when Dad used to lift me up to put the angel on the top of the tree and mum used to make the Christmas pudding and hide all my presents the night before.
But now it's all changed, my dad's dead and my mums a drunk. As soon as the funeral was over she started drinking, her friends told me. I couldn't blame her really, grief is a hard thing to overcome, but so is being an alcoholic. It was almost every night she hit me. Even Christmas. The only time I escaped her beatings was when she was too drunk to stand up; but believe me, she made up for it. All her friends left her and now so was I. She needed help but she wouldn't listen, not to me, not to her friends, not to anyone and now she was alone.
***
The journey on the bus was drawing to a close. I had spent so much time thinking I hadn't realised how the time had passed. In fact, I had thought that much I was beginning to feel guilty. It didn't matter about the scars both emotional and physical, she was on her own and she needed me with her. She couldn't manage by herself. If I didn't try to intervene she would probably end up drinking herself to death.
I was thinking about Green Day now. How important they were to me. It sounded so stupid when I thought about it but their songs had helped me through stuff I never thought I would. I had been in love with them for years and as the time passed, the more I listened to there music and the more I loved it. I always thought Mike and Tré were great, but Billie. He was something else. He was just so amazing and I always wished someday I would be like him. So talented and so lovely... .
But again my train of thought was interrupted as I felt something hit me on the head. It was a cuddly toy. A few seconds later a little girl walked up and said it was her puppy. Well, I wasn't particularly busy and felt I needed to have a conversation with someone, even if it was with a six year old girl.
"Hello, I believe this is your dog?" I said
"Yes," she replied, grabbing the stuffed toy and hugging it tightly.
"Is your mummy or daddy here?" I asked
"No."
I wondered how a six year old girl could be expected to manage on her own. I was going to ask her if she was OK, but she spoke first.
"I came with Stacey and her Mum, but I don't like Stacey. She threw Patch and now he needs the nee-naa."
I guessed Patch was the dog and I took the 'nee-naa' as being an ambulance. I couldn't help but giggle remembering how young and innocent children are.
So I ended up playing doctors and nurses with the little girl and her toy dog, but it was the most fun I'd had in a long time. Innocent fun with someone who liked me, who wanted me to be there with her.
Soon she fell asleep on my shoulder. Well, it would have been quite early in the morning for a young child. As I looked at her, I couldn't help but see shades of me. She was on her own, surrounded by people who she didn't like, but her parents didn't care. I may have read the situation all wrong but that's how I saw it.
***
The bus drove past many landmarks. The London eye, the Houses of Parliament but I didn't care. Wow, it's a building, and oh, look, there's another one. I woke up the girl and we got off the bus to go to the theatre the so called 'highlight' of the day. The lamest thing that could happen and yet everyone looked so excited.
We got in, and guess what? I was sitting on my own. Right on the end of the row so everyone who walked past could see me, and right now I didn't want anyone to see me. I was ashamed of who I was. I was going to leave that girl and I was going to leave my own mother to struggle on her own.
The curtain went up and everyone started clapping and I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember was someone pulling on my sleeve and when I opened my eyes the lights were up and I guessed it was the interval. I looked to whatever was pulling my arm and saw a young boy of about eight years old with another boy of about 11.
"Do you know where the ice creams are?" the older one asked, shocking me with his American accent.
"Sure, follow me," I replied, taking the youngest boys hand.
When we got there, I was going to ask if they were on there own, but when they bought five ice creams I gathered that they weren't. I was even more surprised when the eldest boy handed me one.
"Here, take it."
"Oh, I couldn't," I replied "One of your friends will be without one."
"No, we bought this one especially for you," he said, putting it in my hand.
"Yeh, because your pretty," the youngest one added, followed by a nudge from his friend.
Before I could say thank you, they had ran off. Strangely enough, they both looked familiar. I wondered if they were with our group but they had run in the opposite direction.
I walked back to my seat and before I could think any more the show started again.
***
*The Eldest Boy's P.O.V.*
Aw, man. Why does Dad have to find all the pretty girls before me? He was the one who sent me down there, you know, so he could see her face and he was the one who asked me to buy her an ice cream. He didn't seem to notice that Mum was sitting right next to him when he asked me.
I forgot to ask her name as well. Never mind, it's not like we're ever going to see her again.
***
*My P.O.V.*
So, the time had come for the moment that would change my life. I looked at all the children getting on the bus and I knew that if I was going to chicken out, now was my time. To my surprise I stayed strong, in a sort of trance, my eyes transfixed on the bus as it pulled away from the stop. No one had even noticed I wasn't there. The tears poured down my cheeks as I realised there was no going back. I slumped against the wall of the theatre behind me and began to realise what I had done.
I was on my own in the middle of nowhere. No house, no job and very little money. I really hadn't thought this through as much as I should have done. I tried to ignore everything around me, but I heard a familiar voice.
"Hi!"
"Hi, pretty lady."
It was the two boys again. I got up wiping away my tears, praying I hadn't smudged my eyeliner. Luckily they didn't seem to notice I had been crying.
"Dad, come here, it's the ice-cream lady!"
I wasn't keen on the nickname but when I saw 'Dad' I couldn't think or breathe. I knew that I recognised those two boys and now I knew why. I looked at the handsome man in front of my eyes, the hair, the eyeliner, the smile -it was all there. It was definitely him, my hero, my idol.
"Nice to meet you," he said, putting his hand out for me to shake.
I shook his hand back, completely in shock.
"Nice to meet you too, Billie Joe Armstrong."
