Words I Might Have Ate

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His eyes are cloudy and hard to decipher and for the shortest of moments, I berate myself internally for being so forward and pushy until a smile breaks out across his face and his eyes begin to sparkle. “Sure, I don’t have anything better to do with my time.”

“What about recording?” I ask and immediately hope that he didn’t have to head into the studio. In a desperate attempt to do something with my hands, I reach up and brush some of my hair out of my face, as if that would distract him from the way my cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Billie shakes his head, his hands still stowed deep inside of his pockets. “Not today, both Tré and Mike are busy working so I have the day free. What did you have in mind?” He asks, his voice strained as he holds in his cigarette smoke. He turns a bit so his face isn’t directly in front of mine and then exhales, the smoke billowing out from between his thin lips gracefully.

I pause, completely thrown off by his question. What did I have in mind? Truthfully I had nothing planned for us to do—I barely knew how to get around campus or how to make it to the coin Laundromat down the street without being forced to resort to using the maps that the college had handed out on our first day of orientation. So how exactly did I plan on coming up with a place to entertain the guy who had lived here his entire life?

He senses my hesitation as he takes a final hit off of his cigarette and flicks the butt carelessly into the gutter. “You have no idea what to do with yourself outside of school, do you, Red?”

I flush at his words and then the nod that I give him is infinitesimal. “Not really, no.”

His laugh is amused, but I never get the feeling that he’s laughing at me. He looks all around him, as if he were gathering his surroundings, before he nods his head. “We can hit up the boardwalk, there’s almost always something to do there—shopping stalls, restaurants, whatever.”

“What if I don’t want to go shopping?” I ask bluntly, well aware of the fact that us standing on the curb in the middle of a crosswalk was a major obstruction to the campus traffic. All around us, the sea of people are parting and walking around our bodies, muttering darkly under their breaths.

Billie looks momentarily taken aback by my statement but he quickly dissolves back into his calm, collected self. “Well then there’s always the beach.”

“I love the beach,” I admit softly. “It reminds me so much of home.”

His face wrinkles into one of thoughtfulness before he speaks once again. “San Diego?”

I’m touched by the fact that he’d remembered my hometown based on one conversation we had over a month ago. But I manage to nod my head and smile despite the waves of homesickness that still somehow manage to shower over me from time to time. “Yeah, San Diego.”

“Then the beach it is,” Billie remarks cheerfully, looking to his left. “If we cut down University Avenue—“

“I have to go back to my dorm and grab my stuff,” I announce, suddenly aware of the fact that I’d left my bag back in my room.

Billie nods, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. “I’ll wait out here for you—I could use another cigarette.”

I offer him a fleeting smile before I swivel about and start to make my way back to my dorm. It takes me a few moments to hurry across the lobby and take the stairs up to the third floor. In a heartbeat, I’m inside my room and grabbing my sack bag from where it had been hanging off of my desk chair.

I double-check to make sure that I have my wallet and keys before I survey the room quickly to ensure that I have everything I could possibly need. My math binder is still sitting innocently by my bed and I swallow back the guilt that bubbles up my throat suddenly.

If I went out with Billie, there’s no way I’d make it back in time to study for the quiz. I still had an hour before my lecture, maybe I’d be back by then. But it definitely looks like my homework will remain undone today.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind announces that this is the first time I’ve ever deliberately not done my homework and an amused grin appears on my face. I was nineteen-years-old and finally rebelling against my education. Better late than never, right?

I rip a piece of notebook paper out of my English binder and quickly scrawl a note to Faye to let her know that I was out exploring Berkeley—her class got out at one, so no doubt she’d be here when I got back.

After leaving the messy note on her bed where she’d be sure to see it, I swing my purse over my head and drape it across my chest before I turn off the fan and step out into the hallway. After checking to make sure that the door is locked, I drop my keys into my bag and head towards the stairs.

I thunder down the sweeping staircase, well aware of the fact that I was again attracting stares from the students as I nearly sprint across the lobby and explode out into the bright fall afternoon.

As I hurry back to the spot where I had left Billie, I wonder briefly if he’d left to go back home—because really, why would the lead singer of a punk band want anything to do with a slightly nerdy college freshman? This thought makes my steps hurry and as I arrive breathlessly at the crosswalk where I had left Billie nearly five minutes ago, I scan the crowd for his blue hair.

I come up empty and disappointment begins to pull at me until I catch sight of him slouched against a telephone pole with a cigarette in his mouth again. His nose ring is glinting a bit in the sunlight and I have to work quickly to tone down the bright smile that appears on my face.

“Hi,” I walk up to him, fidgeting with the strap of my purse lightly. “I’m ready.”

He exhales before he throws the filter onto the sidewalk and uses the heel of his Converse to grind out the embers. “Let’s go then.”

We walk down University Avenue in silence, though it is a comfortable one. I use this time to study the boy next to me. He has to be my age—there’s no way he could be much older. But he holds himself with a sort of wariness, like he’d witnessed a lot in his lifetime. The blue hair that had once been brilliant and vivid when I first met him was now fading and his roots were showing through. He’d need to redye it soon. He also isn’t much taller than I am—a fact which I’m thankful for as it means I don’t have to work as hard to keep up with him. And as he walks, he drags his feet a bit so his shoes scuff against the concrete rhythmically.

Finally he glances at me from the corner of his eye and offers me a bit of a smile. “You’re quiet when you’re not with your friends, Red.” It was a casual observation, but it was one that let me know that he was studying me just as closely as I was to him.

I shrug my shoulders, returning his smile with a timid one of my own. “Isn’t everyone though?”

“When they’re not with their friends?” He tilts his head to one side as he thinks. “Not necessarily. I genuinely think Tré’d be comfortable in any group of people.”

“Tré is an interesting guy,” I remark lightly as we come to a stop at a crosswalk and wait for the traffic to clear so we can cross safely.

Billie snorts attractively and shakes his head, his eyebrow piercing shining in the bright sunlight. “That’s the understatement of the year. Tré is-he’s one in a million and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about him.”

“You’re close then,” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement and I wait patiently for his answer. I had a chance to see the three best friends interact at that party three weeks ago and I had decided that it was rare to come across a friendship as unique and strong as theirs was. True, Faye and I had a strong bond with Andy—we were unbelievably close. But it was amazing to see our relationship reflected back at us only with three guys. And it made me wonder if that is how everyone else saw us back home.

Billie nods and he smiles widely so I can see his crooked teeth once again. “They’re my best friends, my band-mates, my roommates. They’re essentially family, except not in the legal sense.”

I nod my head as we walk. “I understand completely. That’s how Faye and I are with Andy. Back home people used to say that if you saw one of us, the other two weren’t far behind.”

“Andy?” Billie’s brow furrows and his voice tenses noticeably. “Is he your boyfriend?”

I blink at the term and then immediately I shake my head. “Oh no, no. Andy is short for Andrea. She’s a girl.”

“Oh,” Billie’s voice goes back to normal and I barely have time to wonder what was going on in his head before he speaks again. “Did you leave Andy back home?”

A frightening wave of homesickness washes over me as I think about my best friend who is on the opposite side of the United States and living it up in one of the most famous cities in the world doing what she wants to do with the rest of her life. All I can think about is the last summer that we spent together in my father’s orchards and roaming around San Diego in Faye’s car with the windows down.

“Hey,” Billie touches my arm lightly. He looks concerned and I notice that I’ve completely stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk. “Are you okay?”

Immediately a ferocious blush illuminates my cheeks and I nod my head, ducking so my hair covers my face. “Yeah, I-I’m fine.”

Billie is quiet for a moment and just as I’m about to turn and walk back home, because I’ve already managed to mortify myself beyond belief in front of the coolest guy who’s ever paid attention to me, he makes a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat. “That homesick, huh?”

“Is it that obvious?” I whisper, feeling my pride slowly disintegrating in front of him. It’s just my luck that I manage to come off as a nostalgic loser in front of him. Now he’ll write me off as childish and never want anything to do with me ever again.

“Just a bit,” He’s cheerful again, nudging my foot with his shoe gently. “What do you miss about San Diego the most?”

“The beach,” I answer immediately, reflecting back on the rolling waves happily. “And my family and the way the weather was perfect all the time—here, it gets so cold at times and overcast and I’ll have to wear a jacket sometimes. I miss my dad’s orchards and being with all of my friends. And I miss really good authentic Mexican food. Berkeley cannot compare to San Diego in the Mexican food department at all.”

“Hmm,” Billie looks thoughtful as he stares off into the distance. “I can take you to the beach here but I can’t quite take you to your family or your friends or your dad’s farm. And I can’t exactly do anything about the weather, but I can take you to find the best Mexican food Berkeley has to offer and we can eat it on the beach together. Maybe you’ll feel more at home then.”

I’m touched by his thoughtfulness and I look up at him in awe. “You’d do that for me?”

Billie nods as he looks down at me. “Yeah. You’re having a rough time, why wouldn’t I try to help you out?”

“You barely know me,” I clarify in a quiet voice, trailing off a bit at the end of my sentence. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“You’re right, I don’t have to do anything for you.” Billie doesn’t look at all fazed by my objections. In fact he looks quite cheerful. “But I don’t want you to be sad. You’re supposedly in the middle of some of the best years of your life—don’t waste your time being upset. You’re in a strange city, sure, but you have your best friend by your side. And you’re making new friends already and you’re studying the subject you love the most in college. You should be having the time of your life.”

“It’s just that Faye doesn’t seem upset at all,” I burst out before I can stop myself. “We’ve moved over 500 miles to a strange city and she’s made herself at home in a strange dorm and thrown herself headfirst into school. And she’s found a job and it’s like she’s settled into this new, perfect life so easily without a single problem. It’s like she doesn’t care that we have a home and friends back home in San Diego.”

“Some people are just better at transplanting their lives,” Billie remarks airily. “I doubt it means that she’s forgotten about San Diego completely. Now come on, chin up. Let’s go get that Mexican food, alright?” And he takes off walking down the sidewalk, his fingertips tucked into his pockets as he walks.

I catch the faintest notes of his humming before it disappears entirely as I watch him walk down the street incredulously. He really didn’t care that people were staring, did he? He pauses for a moment, peering into a store window before he continues strutting down the boardwalk.

I don’t waste another second as I hurry after him, the heat from the concrete burning through my flimsy sandals as I struggle to catch up with him. I wasn’t about to let him just walk away from me so easily. Not after the way he put such a big smile on my face.

-X-

“I didn’t think you were much into coffee shops,” I say in a quiet voice as my dorm comes into view. “I figured you of all people would be raising their middle finger to corporate America.”

From beside me, Billie laughs and the bag that’s holding the remains of our Chinese food dinner dangles from his wrist, crinkling softly. “I’ve got a best friend who’s a coffee addict and there are just days when a cup of coffee solves any problem.”

It was a little past nine o’clock in the evening. I had spent my entire afternoon, nearly nine hours, with Billie. We had found a little Mexican restaurant and we both got burritos which we ate on the beach with our feet buried deep in the sand and the waves licking our ankles teasingly. After the beach, we strolled along the boardwalk and looked at all of the stalls that tried to sell us their cheap tourist souvenirs. It was then that we found a bookstore and I had drug him inside where I had spent an entire blissful hour roaming up and down the narrow aisles searching for a good book to read.

Billie had been a good sport about our sudden detour. He had even helped me narrow down my list of five books to two which I purchased with the money my parents had wired to me and carefully stowed in my bag.

After the bookstore, Billie took me to a record store deep in the heart of Berkeley. It was here that I witnessed him in his prime. He came alive when he was surrounded by music and we spent so much time rooting through the vinyl records and deciding what music we would buy if we had unlimited funds. I stumbled upon a Green Day album, much to Billie’s dismay, and I had bought it. He kept insisting that I should at least hear his band perform before I spent my money on them.

We stopped by a Chinese restaurant and bought cheap takeout after the record store which we ate clumsily with chopsticks while walking back to Berkeley University since it was getting late and I had class early in the morning. Finally we stopped at a coffee shop and I bought hot chocolate to warm me up because I was freezing. San Francisco was much more chilly than I originally anticipated.

I open the door to the lobby and hold the door for Billie, who slips in quietly behind me. We walk to the staircase slowly, me listening intently to Billie’s story about when he put 409 in his teacher’s coffee mug. I listen incredulously, completely amazed at his boldness and his mischievousness. I’d never have been able to work up the courage to pour cleaning products in a teacher’s drink.

He finishes his story and I gape at him in wonder, though an amused smile does appear on my face. “I can’t believe you were that horrid to your teacher.”

“I was an obnoxious asshole to her,” He admits freely, shoving his hands in his pockets and the bag hits his thigh as he moves. “But she deserved it—she was always yelling at me.”

A bit of a silence blankets us before I look up at him from beneath my eyelashes, my heart thudding in my chest. “Thank you for tonight, Billie. I really needed it and-and it means a lot. I had so much fun.”

“I’m glad,” He answers, smirking down at me in that lazy way he has. “I had fun tonight too, Rilla. You’re more interesting and funny than you give yourself credit for, you know that? You should let people in more often.”

“More people?” I question, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the thought of allowing people to pick me apart and dissect me completely. I hated being the center of attention more than anything else in the entire world and I had made it my goal in life to slip by unnoticed. Which, as it seems, just so happens to be the exact opposite of one Billie Joe Armstrong’s goal in life.

“Well,” He chuckles wryly, shifting a bit in place. “Mainly just me. We should do it again sometime.”

I nod, one hand resting on the banister lightly. “Definitely. You can invade my dorm and keep me entertained for the afternoon anytime you’d like.”

“That sounds like an invitation.”

“It is, if you’d like it to be,” I counter boldly, loving the way his eyes light up at the sound of a direct challenge.

He nods his head and bites down on his lower lip before he pulls at the skin on the back of his neck. “You’ll see me again soon then, I expect. Have fun in your lecture tomorrow morning; I’ll be sleeping in bed while you’re busy learning.” He pulls a face at the last word and I barely have time to stifle my laughter.

“Yeah well, have fun recording. I’ll probably be out of school before you get out of the studio tomorrow,” I retort smoothly. “And you can be sure that I’ll give you my in-depth analysis of your music the next time I see you.”

“Good night, Red.” Billie smiles, hesitating a bit as he starts to lean forward.

The first thought that races across my brain is that he’s going to kiss me. But then I remind myself to not be so ridiculous. There is no way Billie was interested in me romantically. And as if to prove my point to myself, he wraps his arms around me in a loose hug which I return with a tight squeeze of my own arms.

“Good night, Billie.” I whisper in his ear before I turn on my heel and scamper up the stairs, my bag jingling cheerfully at my side.

The last glimpse I get of Billie is him watching me with an unreadable look on his face. But then I turn the corner and take the second set of stairs up to the third floor. By the time I arrive on my floor, I’m practically floating as I make my way down the hallway towards my room.

The familiar noises of several radios playing and someone’s television blasting a sitcom fall on my deaf ears as I pass by open doors. Acquaintances’ greetings register in my mind and I return them with an absentminded wave before I open the door to my room.

Faye is sitting on her bed, a textbook open in her lap and a highlighter in her hand. She looks up when the door opens and she sighs in a relieved manner, capping her pen and slamming her book closed. “Where have you been, Marilla Elizabeth?”

“Out,” I answer as I set my bag down on my bed. It had gotten heavy over the course of the day after I had stored my purchases inside carefully. “I left you a note.”

“I know,” Faye brandishes the note at me. “And you said you’d be back in time for your math lecture at 1:30 and it’s now 9:15. I think you’re a little late.”

“I said I was going to explore Berkeley,” I explain, sinking down onto my mattress and sighing happily. “And I did, Faye. I had so much fun.”

“Who were you with?” She asks warily, studying me closely.

“Billie,” I answer, a girlish smile dancing on my lips as I turn to my bag in a lame attempt to hide my glee from my best friend. “He took me all around the city and we ate at a good Mexican restaurant, Faye, but it can’t hold a candle to Juan’s back home. Hey, when we go back for our visit, do you think we can grab a California Burrito? I’ve been craving one for weeks now it seems.”

Faye doesn’t look at all impressed as I bring out my two new books and my record. “You spent the entire day with Billie? What on earth do you two have in common to talk about?”

“He reads,” I reply happily, looking up from my books so I can see her. “He came to tell me that he finished reading Catcher in the Rye—“

“No way,” Faye looks completely shocked. “He reads?!”

I nod, laughing a bit. “I wouldn’t have ever thought it about him either, but he does. We talked all about the book while we were sitting on the beach with our Mexican food. He’s actually really intelligent and sweet.” Here Faye snorts incredulously, which I politely choose to ignore. “He made me feel so much better about Berkeley.”

“Made you feel better?” She repeats, wrinkling her nose. “What do you mean, feel better? Were you feeling ill?”

I shake my head. “No, just homesick. So he took me to the beach and we had Mexican food there. It’s one of the things that I miss the most about home, aside from my family.” I shrug, feeling suddenly very shy for some strange reason in front of my best friend. “He was really nice about the whole thing. He said it was understandable and that he’d probably be a sobbing mess curled up in the fetal position himself if he had to move to opposite ends of the state.”

Faye studies me closely for a moment before she stands up and sits down next to me on the bed. Then she reaches out and hugs me tightly. “Poor Rils, you’re taking this leaving home thing a lot harder than the rest of us, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine,” I insist, hugging her back before I let go and shrug. “I was just having an off-day, that’s all. I’ll be fine once we go back home. I’ll bet I’ll be more than ready to come back to Berkeley after two days at home.”

Faye smiles weakly at my words before she speaks quietly. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”

“Anything,” I nod, watching her carefully.

She hesitates before she pushes herself forward. “The next time you’re feeling down or upset or whatever, come find me, okay? I feel like a bad best friend if I wasn’t even here when you needed me the most. I’m always here for you, Rilla.”

“I know,” I answer quietly, offering her a reassuring smile. “It was a onetime thing, Faye. I promise.” I pull a bit of a face before I stand up and move towards my desk where I place my record. Tomorrow I’d have to ask Louisa to borrow her player so I could listen to it while I study.

I squat down in front of my bookshelf and put one of my books away, all the while painfully aware of Faye watching me. Was she able to tell that I was lying? That me hanging out with Billie is something that I desperately wanted to happen again very soon, despite the fact that I knew she wasn’t particularly fond of him.

It scares me how already willing I was to double-cross my best friend in order to be with him again.