Teenagers, chapter 3
"Wait..." I said not understanding. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you're not an orphan. It says right here you have a father." The police officer picked up a different peice of paper up off the desk and handed it to me. I read it and it said:
Name: Sterling Jade Armstrong
Birth Mother: Francesca Marie O'Doul-Armstrong
Birth Father: Billie Joe Armstrong
It had all of the other information givin, but I already knew all of that. My othere always told me that she met a guys at a bar back in Nevada, and I don't evven know why she chose that place. I mean Nevada? Come one! She could have done better than that!
I still looked at the paper dumbstruck. I never even looked at my birth certificate. Not once. I knew who this guy was. He was THE Billie Joe Armstrong of GREEN DAY!
"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!?" I shouted. The officer jumped back not expecting such a word to come out of my tiny mouth.
"Jeese.... some lungs you got there, kid."
"What can I say? I must be blessed. But that dosn't matter! Where the hell is my father? I need to see him! I have so much shit to tell him! Please, just help me find him!" I was about to cry now, and I didn't do that very often. Not often at all.
He looked at me with pity in his eyes, and it shadowed on his face, as well. "We're doing our best to find him, we really are. We actually HAVE figured out where he lives, we just haven't been able to contact him, that's all. Now, you're gonna have to stay in one of the over-night cells here, okay?"
"Ummmm I don't think so. I'm not staying with freak-criminals looking at me sleep with vengiance in their eyes. No way in hell are you taking me there, buck-o."
*around 7 1/2 min. later. still Sterling's POV*
"I can't beleive they got me in here, the dicks!" I mumbled angrily to myself. I was behind the bars in one of the cells and mad about it. I was closest to the door and a few cells away from the other over-night people waiting to be shipped off to another bigger prison.
"Whatcha doin' here, girrrrrrlyyyyyyyyyy?" asked one of the criminals. I didn't answer back, but he repeated himself louder this time and with much more anger. This time I replied.
"Got to hell, dickhead!" I screamed at him. He jumped at the bars and tried to get out but the officer that was sleeping woke up from my yelling.
"Hey, hey! Stop it, or I'll be forced to . . . . . . . . do something . . . bad. Alright?" he said groggily.
No one answered, but the cop fell back to sleep anyway. I needed to get out of here. I couldn't take this place. I wasn't brought up tough, but I really was on the inside, and if I had to make it on my own outside, then that's what I would have to do then.
I looked all around me. The walls were painted grey, but the cheap paint was starting to chip off and the bed wasn't much of a sight for sore eyes either. Not even eyes, to tell you the truth. the matress was a very off-white, and it had yellow staines all over it. I turned my head to the toilet that was near it, and I thought I might throw up. It had green, yellow, and brown stains all over it. I walked over to it and looked into the bowl of it, care at what I might see.
I saw shit. Not my own shit. Shit of maybe 3 or 4 people that had done crimes. My eyes widened and I clutched my mouth to stop from throwing up.
Well, that would explain the smell of dead carcas....
Anyway, I looked back at the wall but something else caught my eye. In the corner in the back of the cell there was a a loose paint-chipped brick. I walked over to it and bent down to it's level. I looked back over my shoulder to make sure no one was looking.
I only say the snoring cop.
I turned my gaze back over the the loosened brick. I grasped my dirty, brown hands on it and jiggled it untill or broke loose. Nothing fell out or jumped at me so I figured it was safe to keep going. I bent down even lowere the ground so that my hand and knees were touching it.
I saw a brown box and tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't bugde. I pulled a little harder with more frustration, but still, the boz wouldn't move. I pulled my hardest with anger and fear.
I got the box bet fell back because I pulled to hard. The dust from the box landed on my face making my cough. I stood back up and looked at the wooden box and swiped off the remaining dust off of it.
There was a latch on it and it was broken, so I slowly opened it up to see what was inside, if anything at all. As I slowly opened it, I grew more and more intreuged with what I thought I might find. My thoughts got inturrupted, though.
"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!"
"I mean, you're not an orphan. It says right here you have a father." The police officer picked up a different peice of paper up off the desk and handed it to me. I read it and it said:
Name: Sterling Jade Armstrong
Birth Mother: Francesca Marie O'Doul-Armstrong
Birth Father: Billie Joe Armstrong
It had all of the other information givin, but I already knew all of that. My othere always told me that she met a guys at a bar back in Nevada, and I don't evven know why she chose that place. I mean Nevada? Come one! She could have done better than that!
I still looked at the paper dumbstruck. I never even looked at my birth certificate. Not once. I knew who this guy was. He was THE Billie Joe Armstrong of GREEN DAY!
"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!?" I shouted. The officer jumped back not expecting such a word to come out of my tiny mouth.
"Jeese.... some lungs you got there, kid."
"What can I say? I must be blessed. But that dosn't matter! Where the hell is my father? I need to see him! I have so much shit to tell him! Please, just help me find him!" I was about to cry now, and I didn't do that very often. Not often at all.
He looked at me with pity in his eyes, and it shadowed on his face, as well. "We're doing our best to find him, we really are. We actually HAVE figured out where he lives, we just haven't been able to contact him, that's all. Now, you're gonna have to stay in one of the over-night cells here, okay?"
"Ummmm I don't think so. I'm not staying with freak-criminals looking at me sleep with vengiance in their eyes. No way in hell are you taking me there, buck-o."
*around 7 1/2 min. later. still Sterling's POV*
"I can't beleive they got me in here, the dicks!" I mumbled angrily to myself. I was behind the bars in one of the cells and mad about it. I was closest to the door and a few cells away from the other over-night people waiting to be shipped off to another bigger prison.
"Whatcha doin' here, girrrrrrlyyyyyyyyyy?" asked one of the criminals. I didn't answer back, but he repeated himself louder this time and with much more anger. This time I replied.
"Got to hell, dickhead!" I screamed at him. He jumped at the bars and tried to get out but the officer that was sleeping woke up from my yelling.
"Hey, hey! Stop it, or I'll be forced to . . . . . . . . do something . . . bad. Alright?" he said groggily.
No one answered, but the cop fell back to sleep anyway. I needed to get out of here. I couldn't take this place. I wasn't brought up tough, but I really was on the inside, and if I had to make it on my own outside, then that's what I would have to do then.
I looked all around me. The walls were painted grey, but the cheap paint was starting to chip off and the bed wasn't much of a sight for sore eyes either. Not even eyes, to tell you the truth. the matress was a very off-white, and it had yellow staines all over it. I turned my head to the toilet that was near it, and I thought I might throw up. It had green, yellow, and brown stains all over it. I walked over to it and looked into the bowl of it, care at what I might see.
I saw shit. Not my own shit. Shit of maybe 3 or 4 people that had done crimes. My eyes widened and I clutched my mouth to stop from throwing up.
Well, that would explain the smell of dead carcas....
Anyway, I looked back at the wall but something else caught my eye. In the corner in the back of the cell there was a a loose paint-chipped brick. I walked over to it and bent down to it's level. I looked back over my shoulder to make sure no one was looking.
I only say the snoring cop.
I turned my gaze back over the the loosened brick. I grasped my dirty, brown hands on it and jiggled it untill or broke loose. Nothing fell out or jumped at me so I figured it was safe to keep going. I bent down even lowere the ground so that my hand and knees were touching it.
I saw a brown box and tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't bugde. I pulled a little harder with more frustration, but still, the boz wouldn't move. I pulled my hardest with anger and fear.
I got the box bet fell back because I pulled to hard. The dust from the box landed on my face making my cough. I stood back up and looked at the wooden box and swiped off the remaining dust off of it.
There was a latch on it and it was broken, so I slowly opened it up to see what was inside, if anything at all. As I slowly opened it, I grew more and more intreuged with what I thought I might find. My thoughts got inturrupted, though.
"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!"
