No One Knows

At the time, it had seemed like a good option. Hell, right then it had seemed like the only option. She couldn't have hacked it in that house any longer and being just about anywhere else had seemed appealing, as long as it meant she was away from him. It just would have been a lot easier to run if she'd had somewhere to run to.

She shivered slightly, pulling her hood down over her face and laying her head back down onto the cool grass, willing sleep to come. People always gave the hobos around this neighborhood a hard time for being drunks but she could see why. It wasn't easy to get to sleep out here any other way. She put her fingers in her ears to block out the night's sounds, things she probably would never have noticed if she was in a different situation. Wind rustling the trees, raccoons squabbling in the bushes, the rumble of night traffic coming from the interstate in the distance, the sound of breaking glass as petty delinquents went about their nocturnal business. Her heartbeat quickened slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing a tear out into the open. She never thought she would be capable of hating her own father as much as she did right then.

"Hey... "

She stirred at the nudge in her side, trying to think of a novel excuse she could use to get out of school before her eyes were even open.

"Hey kid... "

Now they were open, and she hadn't come up with anything so far. The shock she felt when she took in her surroundings, coupled with the memories of the night before stopped that thought train dead.

"You okay kid?"

She looked up to see who the voice belonged to. He was unfamiliar, but that wasn't surprising and the mail bag slung over his shoulder told her it was probably early enough for her to make it home without running into anyone she knew. That was relieving at least.

"Yeah," she said, groggily, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the low morning sun, "Yeah... I'm fine..."

"You look a bit too young and pretty to be sleeping out here," frowned the mailman, "Do your parents know where you are?"

Was that likely, really?

"I was just camping out," she mumbled, "With some friends. They're around here someplace, probably went to get breakfast or something. We were stargazing... you know? It was a nice night."

He smiled. He believed her. God help him if he had kids of his own, he must really get taken for some rides.

"Ok, well... you be careful," he said, "Not everyone's friendly, you know. You get some unsavory characters around this neighborhood."

Didn't she know it.

She stood up and brushed herself off, pieces of dried grass and dust billowing to the ground. She stretched. The mailman pulled a newspaper out of his bag and handed it to her.

"Here you go, Kid," he said, "You have a nice day."
"Thanks," she said, sleepily, as he walked away.

She wearily rubbed her eyes, which stung from lack of sleep, wishing she could hack the taste of coffee because the caffeine kick would really be useful right now. She walked out onto the street, blinking in the sun as her thoughts turned to home. She crossed her fingers inside her pockets, willing him to be asleep when she got in. It was pretty likely. He had been very drunk. He hadn't even raised an eyebrow when she had tearfully screamed her plans to spend the night at a friend's. Maybe if he'd been sober he'd have remembered she didn't have any. Or maybe he wouldn't.

She trailed a stick against the chicken wire fence surrounding the park as she walked towards home until the twig broke suddenly, breaking her thoughts along with it. She opened the newspaper. May first, 1989. Was it really May already? Sleeping rough would get a lot more comfortable in the coming months. Not that she was planning to make a habit out of it. She looked at the headline. President Bush was putting forward some new anti-crime plan. Good luck with that.

The house was quiet when she got in, which was a good sign. She tiptoed to her room to get changed for school, not wanting to risk waking him up. Her bed had never looked so inviting but she knew she had to go, mostly just because she didn't want to be around when he woke up. As she was leaving the room, her cat, Henry, slunk past her and jumped onto the bed. He stretched, languidly spreading out his claws before curling up on the bedspread and winking at her. She could have sworn he was mocking her on purpose. The look in his eyes said he enjoyed rubbing it in.

Before she left the house, she crept towards his room, just to check on him. Her heart beat quickened as the door creaked open, making her curse herself for not just leaving without looking back. She let out the breath she had been holding when her eyes settled on his sleeping form and she heard him snoring lightly. She stared. For a moment, lying there, he almost looked like he used to, when she was a kid and things were different. He almost looked contented. But then her eyes shifted to the empty bottles on the dresser and she knew it was all an illusion.

Everyone looks innocent when they sleep.

"Jessie, you're late again."
"I know..." she muttered, sliding into her seat. She wasn't stupid. She rubbed her tired eyes before raising them to meet her teacher's.
"Another late mark this week and I'm going to have to talk to your father."

She couldn't help a wry smile from touching her lips. Mrs Roberts obviously didn't realize that talking to her father would be more of a punishment for herself than for Jessie.

"Are you feeling okay?" Mrs. Roberts pressed,
"Yeah... why?"
"You look... really tired. Are you sure everything's alright at home?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just slept badly last night. I had trouble getting up. Which is why I was late."

She didn't think it would do any harm to play the sympathy card against this particular late mark.

"Okay, well... .just get to class," Mrs. Roberts frowned. "You're too good a student to fall behind."

A couple of hours later, Jessie had already had enough. It was time for a break. When she got outside, she wearily slumped against the brick wall behind the gym, her usual spot when she was skipping out of class. It was a relief to get out of there. Everything about it just seemed so trivial to her. The people, the lessons... sure, school was important. She wasn't stupid enough to think it didn't matter. In fact, she wasn't stupid at all. So she knew she'd pass without having to sit through the whole deal.

The heat from the sun-baked wall started to seep through her t shirt and burn her skin. She shifted uncomfortably as she heard footsteps approaching, making her heartbeat quicken. She couldn't get caught bunking off again. Her eyes were wide as she took in the figure coming round the corner, and then she let out a breath of relief. She hadn't been caught. It was just another kid with the same agenda she had.

"Nice day for it," he said, smiling lazily, as he sat down next to her and took out a packet of cigarettes.

They'd met before. They were both regulars at this game. She didn't know his name and he didn't know hers and they both preferred it that way. Once they got to the names stage, it would give the illusion they were supposed to be friends, which would suggest a kind of personal obligation to one another that neither of them needed nor wanted.

He offered her a cigarette as usual.

"No thanks... I don't," she said, as usual.

He nodded.

"So what're you skipping out on?" he asked, blowing a stream of silver smoke skywards.
"History," she said, "You?"
"Gym," he said. "It sounded like way too much running about for me. And I'm trying to keep a low profile anyways..."
"How come?"
"Got into a fight this morning."
"Oh... " she smiled.

This was also usual.

They sat in silence for a while. There was nothing much to say. They hadn't a lot in common other than their attendance records. He was the bad kid, she was the asocial kid. So they kind of had their popularity in common too.

"Hey... d'you know where I can score some gear?" he asked suddenly, breaking their silence.

She shook her head.

"If anyone else ever asked me that, I'd probably have sent them in your direction," she said, with a wry smile.

He returned the smile, then frowned.

"I ran dry about a week ago," he said, "Now I'm getting pretty desperate."
"Well... where do you usually get it from?" she asked him absently, brushing some dust from the knee of her jeans.

Her companion took another drag on his cigarette before answering.

"This twelfth grade kid," he said, his brow furrowing slightly, "I always have. But it's weird. I haven't seen him in weeks. He just disappeared..."
"Maybe he got caught," Jessie suggested.

He raised his eyebrows at the suggestion. He hadn't thought about that.

"I hope not," he said. He paused for a moment, before continuing. "They call him Two Dollar Bill. You heard of him? One of those twelfth grade punks?"
"No," she frowned. She didn't make a habit of hanging out with doped up twelfth graders.

He shrugged.

"Guess its just time to find some new sources," he said, wistfully.

* * * * * * * * *

He stared at the TV screen, trying to focus on Tom and Jerry and zone out from the sound of her voice. He'd heard it every day for the past three weeks and the argument always went exactly the same way. He'd started to think it went better it she just did it without him. They'd done the "You are going back" - "No I'm not" stage of the argument and he could see her limbering up for Stage Two, the "Music won't pay the bills" stage. That was a tricky one, because he was inclined to agree with her, he just didn't care. He figured it might pay them one day and then he'd get the last laugh.

He threw some well-rehearsed automatic responses at her as he watched Tom step on a rake and tried to hide a smile behind his hand. Laughing at kids' cartoons probably wasn't the best way to prove he was mature enough to make his own decisions and he didn't want to give her any more ammo. Not when she was already gearing up for Stage Three, which was the guilt stage.

"I've taken care of you for eighteen years and this is how you repay me? By giving up two months before graduation? How am I supposed to get by taking care of you for God knows how long until you start making enough money to take care of yourself-"
"Mom, I can make enough to take care of myself. I don't need that much taking care of... "
"Well, I beg to differ actually, Billie Joe. That band of yours is a huge gamble and it isn't one that's worth taking. Have you any idea how good you'll have to be to actually make it? You're putting all your eggs in one basket and... "

Fucking hell. She was regressing back to Stage Two. This one wasn't going to end any time soon. He was going to have to end it himself.

"Where are you going?" she asked, exasperated, as he picked up his keys and headed towards the front door.
"To hang out with my basket of fucking eggs!" he yelled, before the door slammed shut behind him.

"You know, Billie Joe... maybe you should just go back to high school."
"Fuck off, Mike," Billie Joe replied, curtly, "You know I'm not going to do that."

Mike sighed, leaning back against the wall behind his bed and letting his fingers pick absently at the strings of his bass.

"It's only a coupla months, man. Then we'll be free."

"What's the point?" Billie Joe asked, gloomily, picking up a record from the assortment that were strewn across Mike's bedroom floor and beginning to roll up on it. "We all know I'm not gonna pass. What's the point in putting up with the shit hole for two months of I'm not going to get anything out of it?"

Mike couldn't answer that. He knew it was true. But mainly he just missed having Billie Joe in class. His friends were the only thing that made school seem worthwhile and Billie Joe was the best friend he had ever had. They had been inseparable since they were ten years old and not having him around all the time just felt too strange. Even the teachers joked that he had lost his sidekick. Although, he suspected they were actually pretty relieved about that. Causing trouble isn't as easy a task for one man alone.

He continued to pick at his bass as he watched Billie Joe break some hash into his joint before beginning to roll it between his expert fingers.

"So your Mom's still giving you shit about it?" he asked him.
Billie Joe nodded. He lent back against the wall next to Mike as he lit up his joint.

"She's driving me crazy," he said, with a sigh, "She just won't let it fucking go. She says I'm letting her down but if I go back and fail she'll be fifty times as pissed so I think I'm just gonna have to ride it out. If it wasn't this it would be something else anyways. You know what she's like."

Billie Joe took a long drag and closed his eyes, holding the smoke in his lungs until his head felt so light that he could hardly remember why he had been so angry just a couple of minutes earlier.

"Ah, your Mom's ok, Bill," said Mike, as Billie Joe held the joint out to him between two guitar-calloused fingers. He accepted it as Billie Joe exhaled, surrounding them in a cloud of smoke.

"Yeah... I know," said Billie Joe softly, "I know she just wants me to do better for myself than she ever did. She's just going about it the wrong way. She takes everything out on me. Plus, she has this dick of a new boyfriend. I've never met the guy but... he seems to be doing more to make her unhappy than anything else. I don't know why she puts up with it. But she always does."
"He probably won't last long," said Mike, reassuringly, stretching out on his back on the bed and watching a layer of smoke collect at the ceiling, "She'll be ok. And anyway, once we have enough money, we'll get a place of our own. Me, you and Al. And we can just have band practice and get stoned all the time."

Billie Joe was unable to stop a smile spreading across his face at the prospect. He was never happier than when he was with his band.

* * * * * * * * *

She always forgave him. How could she not? He was her Dad. He'd been there since the day she was born and he was the only one still there now. He wasn't perfect, but neither was she. She had never met anybody who was.

She was stretched out on the couch with Henry the cat when he finally came home. He was sober, so she guessed he must have gone to work. This was good news. Cause, damn, they needed the money. He was an electrician but he wasn't a very good one. In fact, she sometimes got nervous when one of those 'bad workmen exposed' kind of shows came on that he would have been caught on hidden camera fucking up somebody's fuse box so he could charge them more to fix it. Really, she didn't care what he did or how many fuse boxes he fucked up. She just didn't want him to lose his job because if he did... .well, she didn't really want to think about that.

"So did you go to school today?" he asked her, sitting down on the edge of the couch.

She nodded, stroking Henry. Henry rolled onto his back, purring loudly, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"You're a good girl, y'know Jessie," her father told her, with a weary smile, "I'm sorry about last night. Did I yell at you? I think I did... "

Did he yell? She almost felt like laughing.

"It's okay," was all she said, avoiding his eyes and looking back at the TV.

As he walked away she felt a familiar bubble of anger in her guts. It burned hotter every time he got away with it, but there was nothing she could do and she knew that. He was her father and he loved her, in his own way. She knew he would never hurt her, not really, not properly.

"I'm going out later," he called to her, after leaving the room.
"Where?" she called back, even though she already knew the answer.
"Just out."

Jessie sighed and rolled her eyes at Henry. She just hoped it wasn't the kind of out that involved alcohol, because she could really do with a decent night's sleep.