Real Vs. Make Believe, chapter 2
School. Most of the time, it was the worst 6-letter word in the dictionary. Other times, it was almost tolerable. I guess it depended mainly on my mood, my teacher's moods, and who was selling the pot that day. And—I'm not afraid to say it—I had no friends whatsoever. I was never invited to parties, or even to anyone's house, leaving me with dull, pointless afternoons. School itself was extremely boring. My parents tried to get me to apply to at least one college, but I didn't, knowing I didn't have much a future. My parents didn't really argue either, probably because they know as well as I do that I'm more of an artsy, musical person, rather than a math and history-type of person.
The only "party" I ever went to during my one year at Jamestown High School was the senior's post-graduation party, at the end of the year. And even that was pretty pointless, since I had no one to hang out with. I went reluctantly, though, because if I didn't my parents would probably label me as "insecure and mortally depressed", and force me to go to a shrink. Which was far worse than going to a party for a few hours.
The gym looked pretty depressing itself, for a graduating party, but no one really seemed to care. Streamers were draped along the ceiling and walls, balloons floated around aimlessly, and a big banner stretched across one wall that read "CONGRADULATIONS, CLASS OF 2012!"
The first good thing about the party was the band. They were famous around our part of California—someone said they were even getting a record deal, which was no surprise to me. Apparently, they had dropped out just before I'd moved here, so they were roughly my age.
Once the band ended, I felt like I might as well leave, since there was nothing good left to look forward too. Instead, I just stood by the refreshment table, watching the scene of young, practically care-free teenagers have a good time. I was so preoccupied watching everybody, almost wishing I could be one of them just for a minute, that I didn't even see him approach me. In fact, I didn't know who he was until about five minutes into our conversation.
"You look thrilled to be here," He said sarcastically. I whirled around so suddenly that I nearly knocked over the giant pitcher of spiked fruit punch. He was leaning casually against the table, scanning the mob of kids before us, like I had been doing a few minutes ago. "Oh... uh... hi," I mumbled pathetically. He was dressed in all black, and spikes of his dark brown, nearly black hair hung over his face and stood out in other random directions. He grinned cockily, still not looking at me.
"Did you like the band?" He asked suddenly after a moment. This time he made eye contact with me, and right away I was mesmerized by his eyes. They pierced through mine, like a force grasping me and pulling me inwards. I felt like I was falling, falling down and down into those pools of emerald-green...
I snapped back when I realized he was waiting for an answer. "Oh... hell yeah! They were awesome! It's no surprise they're getting a record deal," I said as casually as I could. He just laughed and sipped his beer. "Thanks," He replied.
Thanks? Why the hell was he saying thanks? Unless he was in the... OH MY GOD! I thought. This wasn't just any guy, this was the lead singer of the band that played! And here I was, completely ignorant, talking about his band like the jackass I was...
"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize who you were... " I stammered. He just had to have thought I was the biggest freak alive by now. But he only grinned again. "It's OK. You're new around here, right? So you wouldn't know who I am anyways," He said. I didn't get where this guy was going at. Who he was? I had no idea, except that he was the lead singer of the band that had just played...
"Um... no, I don't... " I said, but knew I'd regret as soon as he told me his mysterious identity. He must be related to someone famous, but who was really famous that lived in Berkley? Then again, I'd just moved here, so I wouldn't really know...
When he said his name, it automatically clicked. "Full name is Joseph Marciano Armstrong. Call me Joey. Or Joe. Or... whatever," Smiling, he stuck out his hand. Oh, my God, I thought. I know who it is! It all made sense now... how familiar he looked... how strangely recognizable his voice had sounded...
"So you're... you're Billie Joe Armstrong's SON?" I managed the words. He nodded, and I nearly collapsed into the refreshments table. Jesus Christ. Go to one party, and look what happens! I end up meeting a celebrity's son! And, if I knew anything about guys, I guess you could say he was almost flirting with me...
He intently studied the brownish liquid in his cup. "Yeah. Except sometimes I like it better when people don't know who I am," His positive expression dissolved, revealing one just the opposite. Suddenly he wasn't Billie Joe Armstrong's son anymore. He was just a kid, like me, feeling alone in this world.
Just as quick as his dejected expression had come, it disappeared, and he said, "You wanna leave this place?" I shrugged. Normally, I would've said no, seeing as how anti-social I'd' become. But I figured, hell, why not? "Sure," I said.
Before we left, Joey ran up to another kid, younger, who looked a lot like him. His brother, I assumed. Hanging with him were two other girls, one who looked Joey and my age, and one who looked a little younger. "This is my brother, Jakob. He just turned 15. This is Ramona—Ramy—she's 17," Joey said, gesturing to the older girl. I recognized the name—Tre Cool's daughter. So the other one must be... "And this is Stella, she's 15, too." ... Mike Dirnt's daughter. For some reason, I found it funny they were all good friends. "Guys, this is... " I realized he didn't even know my name yet. "Ashley," I finished for him. "Yeah. We're gonna hang out someplace else for a while."
I saw Jakob whisper something to Joey, though I couldn't hear it. I did hear Joey's response, which was a typical, brotherly "Shut up." Their conversation grew a little louder, as Jakob said, "You promised dad you'd be home at 12. I'm not covering up for you again." And Joey just replied, "Yeah, whatever." I said a quick goodbye to Jakob, Ramona, and Stella before we left.
And soon I was walking out the door, not knowing exactly where we were going, with a complete stranger that I had met barely five minutes ago. Not something I had seen myself doing in the future.
Especially with my idol's son.
The only "party" I ever went to during my one year at Jamestown High School was the senior's post-graduation party, at the end of the year. And even that was pretty pointless, since I had no one to hang out with. I went reluctantly, though, because if I didn't my parents would probably label me as "insecure and mortally depressed", and force me to go to a shrink. Which was far worse than going to a party for a few hours.
The gym looked pretty depressing itself, for a graduating party, but no one really seemed to care. Streamers were draped along the ceiling and walls, balloons floated around aimlessly, and a big banner stretched across one wall that read "CONGRADULATIONS, CLASS OF 2012!"
The first good thing about the party was the band. They were famous around our part of California—someone said they were even getting a record deal, which was no surprise to me. Apparently, they had dropped out just before I'd moved here, so they were roughly my age.
Once the band ended, I felt like I might as well leave, since there was nothing good left to look forward too. Instead, I just stood by the refreshment table, watching the scene of young, practically care-free teenagers have a good time. I was so preoccupied watching everybody, almost wishing I could be one of them just for a minute, that I didn't even see him approach me. In fact, I didn't know who he was until about five minutes into our conversation.
"You look thrilled to be here," He said sarcastically. I whirled around so suddenly that I nearly knocked over the giant pitcher of spiked fruit punch. He was leaning casually against the table, scanning the mob of kids before us, like I had been doing a few minutes ago. "Oh... uh... hi," I mumbled pathetically. He was dressed in all black, and spikes of his dark brown, nearly black hair hung over his face and stood out in other random directions. He grinned cockily, still not looking at me.
"Did you like the band?" He asked suddenly after a moment. This time he made eye contact with me, and right away I was mesmerized by his eyes. They pierced through mine, like a force grasping me and pulling me inwards. I felt like I was falling, falling down and down into those pools of emerald-green...
I snapped back when I realized he was waiting for an answer. "Oh... hell yeah! They were awesome! It's no surprise they're getting a record deal," I said as casually as I could. He just laughed and sipped his beer. "Thanks," He replied.
Thanks? Why the hell was he saying thanks? Unless he was in the... OH MY GOD! I thought. This wasn't just any guy, this was the lead singer of the band that played! And here I was, completely ignorant, talking about his band like the jackass I was...
"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize who you were... " I stammered. He just had to have thought I was the biggest freak alive by now. But he only grinned again. "It's OK. You're new around here, right? So you wouldn't know who I am anyways," He said. I didn't get where this guy was going at. Who he was? I had no idea, except that he was the lead singer of the band that had just played...
"Um... no, I don't... " I said, but knew I'd regret as soon as he told me his mysterious identity. He must be related to someone famous, but who was really famous that lived in Berkley? Then again, I'd just moved here, so I wouldn't really know...
When he said his name, it automatically clicked. "Full name is Joseph Marciano Armstrong. Call me Joey. Or Joe. Or... whatever," Smiling, he stuck out his hand. Oh, my God, I thought. I know who it is! It all made sense now... how familiar he looked... how strangely recognizable his voice had sounded...
"So you're... you're Billie Joe Armstrong's SON?" I managed the words. He nodded, and I nearly collapsed into the refreshments table. Jesus Christ. Go to one party, and look what happens! I end up meeting a celebrity's son! And, if I knew anything about guys, I guess you could say he was almost flirting with me...
He intently studied the brownish liquid in his cup. "Yeah. Except sometimes I like it better when people don't know who I am," His positive expression dissolved, revealing one just the opposite. Suddenly he wasn't Billie Joe Armstrong's son anymore. He was just a kid, like me, feeling alone in this world.
Just as quick as his dejected expression had come, it disappeared, and he said, "You wanna leave this place?" I shrugged. Normally, I would've said no, seeing as how anti-social I'd' become. But I figured, hell, why not? "Sure," I said.
Before we left, Joey ran up to another kid, younger, who looked a lot like him. His brother, I assumed. Hanging with him were two other girls, one who looked Joey and my age, and one who looked a little younger. "This is my brother, Jakob. He just turned 15. This is Ramona—Ramy—she's 17," Joey said, gesturing to the older girl. I recognized the name—Tre Cool's daughter. So the other one must be... "And this is Stella, she's 15, too." ... Mike Dirnt's daughter. For some reason, I found it funny they were all good friends. "Guys, this is... " I realized he didn't even know my name yet. "Ashley," I finished for him. "Yeah. We're gonna hang out someplace else for a while."
I saw Jakob whisper something to Joey, though I couldn't hear it. I did hear Joey's response, which was a typical, brotherly "Shut up." Their conversation grew a little louder, as Jakob said, "You promised dad you'd be home at 12. I'm not covering up for you again." And Joey just replied, "Yeah, whatever." I said a quick goodbye to Jakob, Ramona, and Stella before we left.
And soon I was walking out the door, not knowing exactly where we were going, with a complete stranger that I had met barely five minutes ago. Not something I had seen myself doing in the future.
Especially with my idol's son.
