Words I Might Have Ate

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Monday morning dawns bright and early, but I don’t see sunlight until three in the afternoon. It had been another late night at the studio and I hadn’t gotten home until nearly four in the morning. After eating cold leftovers straight from the refrigerator, I collapsed in bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

By the time I regain consciousness the next day, my stomach is tight from hunger and the first thing in my mind is that Rilla is back in town. I could go see her after I shower and eat; hopefully she was done with classes for the day.

It takes me a few minutes to rouse myself out of bed. I spent a lazy ten minutes sprawled out with Zero next to me, purring contentedly. But in the end I had risen out of my warm bed and stumbled into the shower where I rinsed myself thoroughly and even managed to shave the scruff off of my cheeks.

Clad in a clean pair of shorts and a Clash shirt, I enter the empty kitchen, taking note of the time and realizing that Mike was at work so I had the apartment to myself. I putter around the kitchen for a few minutes, taking my time in making a sandwich and grabbing a bag of potato chips out of the cupboard. The pantry is looking pretty bare, so I make a mental note to head out to the grocery store the next chance I get so that we didn’t starve over the next couple of days.

I eat my scanty meal standing up with Zero watching me from the ledge of the kitchen window. It isn’t long before my plate is empty and I dump the china into the sink haphazardly before I shove my feet into a pair of shoes and grab my keys and wallet from my bedside table.

After calling out a goodbye for the cat, I close and lock the apartment door behind me and then take the stairs down two at a time. I land with a particularly loud thump on the floor of the lobby, almost knocking over the coked-out prostitute that lived on the floor below us. I ignore her empty threats as I throw open the door and step out into the bright sunshine.

I’m in a fairly good mood today and I really can’t pinpoint why exactly. Yes, my band’s first release on a major record label was coming up and I had extra cash in my pocket for the first time in years, but something deep inside me pipes up that all of those reasons weren’t enough for my chipper mood.

And that’s when my mind arrives on a certain green-eyed girl. My entire mood lifts up even more at the thought of seeing her in just a few minutes and as I board the bus, I wonder briefly if she’d be up to going to see Blatz, my friend’s band, play at the pier tonight. I could even see if Anthony would dig up a table for the two of us—I could actually take her out and treat her since I had some extra money.

Berkeley University comes into view sooner than I expect and as the bus comes to a stop, I rise up from my seat and gingerly make my way down the aisle, sidestepping an extremely pregnant woman and an older man carrying an armload of groceries.

I step out onto the sidewalk and immediately my gaze is drawn towards a group of college kids sitting outside the entrance of the college. They have an array of barrels in front of them and they’re all drumming in succession as three or four people dance a synchronized routine in front of them.

For a few moments, I join the growing group and just watch the kids perform until someone bumps into me an murmurs a meaningless apology. I squint up at the giant clock that towers over the campus and realize with a jolt that it’s already four thirty in the afternoon.

I shove my hands deep in my pocket as I start to make my way down the main road that cuts through campus. I was getting pretty used to walking this way, seeing as it was the third time I was visiting Rilla at school so far. I step to the side just as someone flies by on a bicycle, a stack of books in the basket on the front of their bike, and I pass a group of girls sitting in the grass, ignoring their books and focusing instead on their nails.

Rilla’s dorm comes into view eventually and I hasten my steps to avoid colliding with a guy skateboarding his way to class. Today there isn’t anyone sitting outside and as I walk into the shade that the building offers, I relax my squinting eyes. Through the windows at the front of the building, I could see people milling about busily inside.

The door opens easily enough and I step into the cool lobby, my shoes squeaking against the freshly waxed floor. It takes me a second to adjust to the light difference but I edge further into the room, running a hand through my hair absentmindedly as I look all around me for someone familiar.

I should probably just find out which room Rilla lives in and really save myself the embarrassment of just standing here awkwardly until someone decides to step in and help me out.

“Armstrong.”

The voice comes from behind me and I turn, a smile already lighting up my face. I recognized that voice. “Hey Blondie—“ I was cut off by a sharp hiss and then a stinging sensation blossoms across my cheek. I cradle my face and look at her angrily. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Why the hell are you even here?” Blondie narrows her eyes at me, her one hand holding on tightly to her backpack. “You have some nerve showing up here after the stunt you pulled last week.”

“I came to see Rilla,” I begin, rubbing at my sore cheek tenderly. “I want to explain things to her. What she saw isn’t what she thinks she saw,” I trail off, silently wondering if what I’d just said made any sense whatsoever.

Blondie doesn’t look convinced by my words. In fact, her foot starts tapping the floor in an annoyingly fast staccato. If anything, she looks unimpressed with my weak explanation. “What, so you just ended up having sex with this girl and then practically rubbed it in Rilla’s face?”

“No,” I frown at her words, finally lowering my hands away from my face since I deemed it safe to let my guard down. I was quickly proven wrong however when I hear my name being called from the right and my uninjured cheek quickly sprouts a matching handprint.

“Why are you here?” Louisa spits angrily, having materialized out of seemingly nowhere. But judging by the books in her grasp, I’d say that she’s just come straight from a lecture. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to go fuck?”

“What girlfriend?” I cry out exasperatedly. Everyone was talking about Abigail like she and I were an item now and we weren’t. We were the furthest thing from an item and all I wanted was a chance to explain myself to Rilla. Everyone else can go screw themselves.

Louisa glares at me, her blue eyes steely. “The one you were all over in front of poor Rilla. Don’t you have better things to do than to show up on her doorstep to rub it in her face?”

“I don’t want to rub it in her face,” I’m getting really annoyed by all of these accusations. Honestly these girls don’t know anything about me and my situation. All I wanted was to see Rilla, to explain what had really happened back in my apartment. “I just want to talk to her.”

“Well I’m afraid that that will not be happening,” Blondie announces in a cold tone of voice. Her eyes are narrowed at me and if looks could kill, I’d have been dead a hundred times over already. “Rilla is much too busy to deal with a street rat like you. We don’t allow our friends to associate with scum.”

I’m gearing up for a sarcastic, scathing reply when I’m interrupted for what seems like the millionth time in a span of five minutes. But this time it’s by a voice that I welcome. All three of us turn towards the staircase in time to see Rilla descend and step off of the stairs.

She’s looking as gorgeous as ever. Her hair is let loose and falls down past her shoulders in a crinkled mess and she’s wearing a pair of loose jeans and an LA Dodgers shirt that shows off a good three inches of her pale stomach. Her brown sack bag is crossed over her chest and she’s carrying a book in her hands.

“Billie, what’re you doing here?” She asks quietly as she stands next to Blondie.

Her face is polite and indifferent and inwardly, I’m freaking out completely. She doesn’t want to see me, let alone give me the time of day to speak to her and explain everything. “I came to see you,” I begin, offering her a timid smile. “I think we need to talk.”

“About what?” She asks, her head tipping to one side as she looks me up and down coolly.

My mouth hangs open uselessly and for the first time, I realize that I don’t have a standing chance at getting time alone with her. Not with the way both of her friends are bearing down at me with murderous looks in their eyes.

So I shake my head slowly and an incredulous, bitter laugh slips out. “You’re not even going to give me the time of day, so why even bother?” I run my hands down my face before I look back at her. “So enjoy your time in Berkeley and maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

Her eyes flash briefly and I get a glimpse of hurt in those beautiful green orbs, but I push it all aside as I give her one last tight smile before I turn around and walk away. The door squeaks a bit as I pull it open and a wave of humid heat hits me as I step back outside.

My steps are angry and rushed as I boldly cut across the street, not even bothering to look either way. I earn myself several angry yells and a few furious fingers, but I ignore it all as I storm down University Avenue. I had come all the way down here for nothing and I had lost any possible chance of regaining what I had built with Rilla.

I’m pissed at myself more than anyone else. I should have kept my cool back there and just sat through the insults and the taunts because in the end, it would have led to Rilla. And she was worth it. She had shown that to me only a few moments after I met her, that she was an amazing girl and any guy would be lucky to be the one to bring that smile to her face.

The voice inside my head pipes up that I can still turn around and walk back in there. But I know that my pride will never let me do that. So I continue my way down the street with my head held high. She was just another girl that I’d get over in time.

-X-

“Come on, Billie, this is a simple quadratic function with a 2nd-degree polynomial function.” David runs his hands down his face before he looks back at me quite seriously. “You can do this; you were doing them the last time we met.”

I glower at him darkly as I look back down at the calculus problem in front of me again for what seems like the umpteenth time this hour.

f(x)=AX2 + BX + C, where A does not equal 0.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I answer honestly, dropping the pencil down on the table and pulling at my hair frustratedly. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can,” David coaches patiently, bringing the paper closer to him and picking up my pencil. “The graph of this function is a parabola, do you remember what that means?”

I shake my head, slouching back in my seat and looking up at the kitchen ceiling moodily. In the background, there is the faint noise of the television running and Lizzie playing loudly in the front hallway.

Dave’s pencil clatters to the table and he sighs, running his hands across his face again. “So what’s up, Billie? You’re like a moody two-year-old and I can’t get a straight answer out of you.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” I begin in a scornful voice, but I tone it down once I realize that unleashing my anger out on my brother would only end up pissing the both of us off and quite frankly, being mad at people takes a lot of energy. It’s exhausting. “I’m fine, Dave.”

He gives me the look that’s been patented by Mom before he crosses his hands neatly on the table. “So we’re just going to sit here in silence until you break and tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I insist, resisting the urge to roll my eyes childishly. But deep down I knew that everyone in the room knew that my words were a load of shit. I’d been in a foul mood since my encounter with Rilla and her two friends nearly three days ago and I had taken it out on everyone around me instead of sucking it up and dealing with it.

David makes a thoughtful face before he pats the table and then starts to gather together my school things. “I guess we’re finished for the night then.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, slowly pulling myself back up into a sitting position. I glare at the table for a moment with my arms crossed over my chest before I start to rise to my feet, but a look from my brother stops me.

“Let’s talk,” He invites, motioning for me to retake my seat. I slowly sink back down into the wooden chair and watch as he looks at me closely. “Are you okay?”

Trust this to an intervention of some sorts. I was sick and tired of people walking around on their tiptoes around me. I wasn’t going to go off on some poor unsuspecting person just because they breathed the wrong way or something.

“Because if you’re addicted to drugs, than I’m willing to foot the bill for rehab. Heather and I just want you to be healthy, Billie, and you’re obviously miserable with the way your life’s going so far. I know things don't appear—“ It seems to me like he’s been carefully rehearsing this speech for quite a while now and he’s perfected and polished his words until he can recite them at the drop of a hat.

“Dave, I don’t need to go to rehab.” I reply quietly, a bit embarrassed by his offer. “I’m not addicted to drugs. I am perfectly okay.”

“Well you’re obviously not,” He insists, motioning towards me. “Billie, you’ve been sullen and angry since the moment you walked through the door. And your school work’s been slacking lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I want to help. You need—“

“Green Day signed a record deal with Reprise Records and we’re recording our first album,” I blurt out suddenly, finally breaking my staring contest with the wooden grain of the table and meeting David’s surprised gaze. “So I don’t even know if I want to do this-this school thing anymore. It’s probably not even going to be worth it.”

“Billie, you don’t mean that. Just because you’ve landed a record deal doesn’t mean that it’s going to work out,” Dave sighs again, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “I don’t want to be the pessimistic one here, but what if you don’t sell well and the label decides to drop you? Then you’re right back at square one with nothing—“

“Well they’re not going to drop us because we’re going to be fine,” I spit out angrily, pushing away from the table on screeching chair legs. “For Christ’s sake, you sound just like Adam and I don’t need to sit here and listen to your shit.”

“Billie,” David rises up from the table and follows me out towards the front door. “Don’t give up on this, please. You’ve worked far too hard to let it all go to waste now. I’m not saying that your album won’t work out—in fact, I want it to do so well that you’re the most popular artist that they’ve signed. You know I’ll be the first person in line to buy your CD the day it comes out. But just promise me that you won’t throw all of this away. You’re so close to finishing.”

For just a moment, I’m sorely tempted to tell my brother to go fuck himself and to stomp out of the house and never look back. But the more rational, mature side of me realizes that I can’t just do this to my brother, to the only person who’s stood by my side and believed in me this entire time.

So I nod slowly, my hand still resting on the door knob. “I’ll be back on Thursday.”

Dave nods, looking relieved. He offers me a smile, which I don’t return, before he runs his hands through his hair. “Thank you. I’ll bring home the calculus text and see if any of the teachers know any tricks to help you learn this stuff.”

I nod my head, twisting the handle of the door and throwing open the door. I glance once back at my brother and nod curtly at him before I step out into the cool dusk and shut the door behind me.

With my hands shoved in my pockets, I make my way through the garden and out to the end of the street where I know a bus will be stopping in a few minutes to take me back to Berkeley. As I wait for the public transportation to appear, I spend my time mulling over what had went down back at David’s house.

Me dropping out of this make-up school thing seemed like the only rational option. I wasn’t motivated to do my work anymore because the only reason I had been doing this in the first place was just in case Green Day didn’t work out. But now that we’ve got a record deal, studying all of these stupid calculus terms just seemed pointless and stupid.

We were going to work out. We had to work out. I was born to play music and honestly, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else with the rest of my life. And I know that both Mike and Tré feel the same way.

Which is why, as the bus rolls to a stop in front of me and I deposit my fare in the box mechanically, I start to think up of viable excuses so that I can get out of my Thursday meeting with my brother.