The Secrets of Billie Joe Armstrong

"Ollie, hurry up! The plane leave in an hour!" My mother called as I ran down the stairs of our empty house.

My father was waiting at the front door, too, saying good bye to me, my mother, the house and California. He would be living in Chicago, with his new mistress who was actually pregnant with his child. Already. He and my mother's divorce finalised today, and he would be asking Shelly, (his mistress), to marry him tomorrow.

"Good bye, Princess." Dad said, kissing the top of my head.

"Bye, Daddy, good luck with Shelly. I will visit you and the baby soon." Saying those words made my heart wrench. I loved Billie Joe, and I couldn't forget him.

"Thank you, darling. I'll organise a flight once it's born."

"Ollie." My mother said in a warning tone. I was being too friendly.

"Bye Daddy. I love you."

My mother rested a cold hand on my back. She looked like she was dressed for a funeral. Black, knee length dress and black waist long jacket. Black hat and bag. Pearl earring and necklace. Her face was pinched and her make up sat steadily caked on her face. I felt her eye my father, and then push me slightly in the back.

"Get into the cab, Ollie." She said, fiddling with her ring finger. That's when I realised what she was actually doing. She gave my father her engagement and wedding rings. I picked up my bags and she picked up hers, and together we walked toward the cab parked out the front, because mom's car was being shipped to New York that second. I had tears in my eyes as we pulled away from the curb. Good bye, California. Good bye, Andy. Good bye, Grace. Good bye, Pinole Valley High. Good bye, beach. Good bye, constant hot weather. Good bye, 65 Kindle Street... Good bye everyone.

My mind drifted back to Andy's funeral. Grace and I didn't speak to each other once because she didn't have the guts to show up. It was open casket. Oh, how I hated it being open casket. Just that one look on your face you had, cold and white, no blood or life in it at all. Closed eyes that didn't look at me the way they used to. The stitches and scars of the accident. They only had the top bit open so we couldn't see your mangled body. Angela thought it was required of me to do a speech. I almost said "Andy, you were the best boyfriend I've ever had. The father of my baby." But luckily I remembered not to. I started bawling in the middle of the speech, and then I kissed your cold lips. Your lifeless lips. Tears coated my face through out the whole service and I lost it once I got home. I just sobbed and sobbed. I sobbed for you, I sobbed for Billie Joe, I sobbed for Grace, I sobbed for my parents, and I sobbed for the future and missing the past. I just sobbed. And eventually I started to feel hungry and ate everything there was in the cupboard, and then I threw all of it up again. It felt so much better.

The next morning I pretending like nothing had happened. It was school holidays, so I just stayed around home, and occasionally went to the grocery shop or something. Sometimes some people I knew would ask me how I was doing. I'd always say the same thing, "fine", and eventually they all stopped asking. The months sped past, and Mom came home and stayed with me for a few weeks before Dad came and we moved out.

While in the cab I made a vowel that I would never, ever think or talk about Billie, Andy, Grace or California. I'd tell everyone that asked that I was from Malibu, not Berkeley, that way there were no ties at all. It was as Mom and I were seated on the plane that she told me she was just as guilty as my father.

"I've been engaged again, too, Ollie." She said. "He's a surgeon from New York, and we'll be moving into his apartment with him as soon as we arrive. His name's Ron."

I couldn't believe my ears, but I accepted it.

Eventually we arrived in New York and I couldn't be happier.