Billie Joe Armstrong Is My Step-Father...and I Hate It

“Grace, where are you going?” I heard my mum ask. She was alone, in the kitchen, her hair soaked after the shower she took. Mum insisted she had to look stunning yet with a clash of punk rock tonight. After all, today was the first time she’ll meet the other two from the band. She needed to look right. Mum looked right in jeans and a top, she could wear anything and she’d still be beautiful. A tracksuit even.

“Joey asked me ou- to meet his friends” I answered, avoiding the word “out”. That would mean an awkward situation. And I don’t like awkward situations.

“Oh, that’s nice!” mum said, smiling. “Have fun and be back by eight! You have to babysit tonight for me!”

“I won’t be gone that long mum. Out with an Armstrong? I think not” I replied, coldly. Mum sighed.

“Oh Grace” she groaned. “I’ve just... given up completely with you.”

“I know” I said. “Don’t tell me something I know, mum. See you.” I grabbed my jacket and walked outside. Joey had left eariler than me but he told me where to go. But there was one condition. I had to walk past “the wall”.

The wall was where every slut and jock met up with water balloon, ketchup, paint balls... just about anything they could squirt, toss or spill over people of lower class. It was clattered with grafitti of shit like “Jessica loves Jack” and stuff. Jessica was head cheerleader, Jack was head jock (sounds weird sayign that, doesn’t it? Jack as head jock...). The sluts and jocks, if they wanted to refer to them together, would call them “JJ”. It made me scoff. That was highly pathetic. Jessica had plastic surgery before. Can’t say she didn’t need it though, her chest was flatter than the wall itself before. Her skin was technically orange. And her eyes were heavily plastered with eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara, that you can barely see into the actual eye itself. Her hair was made of of hair extensions and was dyed blonde, obviously, because the roots were poorly done and you can still see the black that they used to be. She dressed like a tramp. She always exposed too much of her blotchy legs which she covered up with fake tan. It could be a fucking snow storm and she still wouldn’t wear jeans to save her life. Because the way she looked meant more to her than anyone or anything else. Jack was a little more down to Earth, except for the fact he was more stupid than... I can’t evebn finish that sentence. He’s sixteen and he still doesn’t know what seven multiplied by six is. His hair was covered in gel, that if you put your hand on it, you end up with very sticky hands.

Every prep went to the wall. It was technically their God. It was really: “Go there or your a fucking loser”. This is where the sluts and jocks talked about who they were going to beat up, who got what done to them, who is fucking who and so the filthy gossip list continues. And if you don’t agree with whatever Jessica says, then your dead meat.

It was a scary sight, I never wanted to see Jessica over the summer. I was hoping for a Jessica-free summer. But there she was, perched on the wall like a Queen watching over her followers whilst someone had bought along a wireless radio, where Tik Tok by Ke$ha played freely. Jeesica was talking animatedly about something to her main crony, Kiely. Kiely seemed interested (or so she had to be) in whatever she was saying before laughing the plastic laugh the cheerleaders have. She frowned when she saw me and Jessica looked over. Oh joy. I was hoping to cross the road before they saw me. I just kept my head down, but this didn’t stop Jessica.

“Well, it’s Miss Anti-Social, Grace!” she cried. “What brings you here?” I didn’t answer her, and just kept going. She jumped off the wall and stopped me, by standing in front of me. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Who couldn’t hear your plastic voice anyway?” I hissed. “You could hear it from England.”

“Was that an insult I heard? I didn’t think you had it in you!” Jessica said. Niether did I. She was right, I was very anit-social. “But I don’t like insults.”

“Oh, good for you then!” I exploded. I didn’t know I could do that, but with the anger that had built up for the past few weeks... “It must be great for you to be able to block out what everyone says about you in the changing rooms when your not there!” Silence.

“Excuse me?” Jessica seethed. “I oughta punch you in the mouth for saying that, my girls would never-!”

“Your girls” I scoffed, putting emphasis and etching quotation marks around “your girls”, which was a stupid thing to say, “ALWAYS do that.” Before Jessica could turn on her terrorfied followers, they spoke up. Fuck.

“How dare you accuse us?!” Sarah hissed savagely. “What do you know, you don’t even talk to anyone in there anyway!”

“It’s not like you listen either, you’re too busy with your head down!” Jenny added. I was being outnumbered.

“Bitch.”

“Loser.”

“Fag.”

Every insult they could think off for me was being tossed in my direction. And it was really getting to me. I never knew people could get through to me so easily. Must be all that hate I’ve given off. I’ve forgotten how much I despised Jessica and her posse after all the hate I was giving Billie Joe. The jocks stayed silent, enjoying what they were saying. I shoved Jessica out of the way. She stumbled with a scream, only to be caught by one of her jockie admirers.

“OH MY GOD, YOU LITTLE FUCK!” she screamed after me, as I ran away from the wall. “THIS ISN’T OVER! RUN AFTER HER!”

I ran as fast as I could. Fuck Jessica. Fuck her and her little bitchy crew. I heard them run after me but, eventually, after a few turns and bends, I managed to lose them in some parking lot. I panted as I stopped for breath. Oh good God, I was such a pussy. I needed to toughen up. I had to toughen up. Jessica could get to me easier than a lion could get to a warthog.

I needed to fit in. I needed to have some friends, for protection but I couldn’t. How could I know they’re real and not only tagging around to get a glimpse at Billie Joe fucking Armstrong? God, this was all his fault. It was his fault I couldn’t make proper friends. Unless...

I looked up and saw, faintly in the distance, where Joey had asked me to meet him. Myabe, if his friends like me... I’ve saw Joey arund school and he had friends. And he seemed to really fit in with them and havea great time with them too. So, I don’t like Joey that much but... hey. His friends could be different. At least they’re not the offspring of Billie Joe. I stedied up and began to run a steady jog across the parking lot. Everythign was quiet.

I should’ve realized it was too quiet.

“THERE SHE IS!”

Suddenly, eggs, paintballs and water balloons flew through the air. My eyes widened in fear. Everything seemed in slow motion. Cheerleaders and plastics running around from between cars throwing their attacks as well as jocks. I put my arms over my head as I screamed in horror. Everything hit me with a loud “splat”. It was kind of painful because they threw them pretty hard. Jessica’s evil cackle echoed out from among them. Six more cheerleaders emerged with water guns. It wouldn’t stop. I was being soaked and filthed at the same time. The water was ice cold. It was seeping through my converse shoes and I fell to my knees as my knees buckled. This was possibly the thrid worst thing I ever suffered through. Because I fell, eggs and water managed to hit my face, stopping my screaming. Suddenly, it stopped. It was over. I felt like I had been dragged through hell and back. I shivered as I knelt there on the graveled ground, coughing through the water that had choked me.

“Think next time before you act, bitch” Jessica seethed, before she slammed on egg on my head and ditching met here, her posse slowly following as they took the time to laugh at me on the ground before joining Jessica in her success. I hated Jessica. I stayed there for a while before bursting into tears.

It wasn’t like me to cry. I barely cried at all but this... this was too much. My life was a trash bin now, where peole threw shit into. I tried to wipe the tears from my face but I ended up smearing the egg across my face even more. I slopped my arm down helplessly. I sniffed there, on the ground. Suddenly, I heard footsteps.

They’re back again... I thought, ready to get cake tossed at me again.

“Grace...?” I heard someone ask. I looked up to see Joey. “Grace?! Who did this to you?!”

“J-Jessica did” I said, pulling myself together. I did not want Joey to see me vulnerable like this. I got up, and scowled. “What do you care, I suppose you watched and laughed along with them, did you?”

“No! Hell no! I’m gonna kill that bitch... fucking slut, I hate her” Joey snarled. I nodded, shivering.

“Me too.”

“Why did they do that?” he asked.

“I pushed Jessica” I said.

“Really? Good. Bitch had it coming, and she has worse to come too. Are you cold?” He pulled off his jacket and handed it to me. “Here, you ned it more than me.” When I didn’t take it, he wrapped it around my shoulders. “There. Better?” I didn’t respond. Why was he being so nice to me? I didn’t want him to be nice to me. “We need to get you cleaned off...” He flicked raw egg off his hand after putting the jacket around me.

“No. Mum can’t know about this” I replied sharply.

“Well, she’s gonna when she sees you covered in egg and paint” he said.

“She can’t know! Please, Joey. Don’t” I begged. I never begged, so the fuck he better say alright.

“But... you’re all eggy” he said, frowning.

“I don’t care. I can’t let mum know about Jessica” I said. “It’ll only make her want to do something!”

“Well then, now what?” he asked.

“Let me meet your friends” I said.

“But... you’re all painted.”

“So? Explain to them why” I hissed. He sighed.

“C’mon then” he said, trying to take my wrist. He ended up taking my hand. An awkward moment fell like never before when I tried to tug away and he looked at me. It seemed the whole world stopped for a moment as my gaze met his. Suddenly, it kick started again and I tugged my hand away after catching on what was happening. He flicked more egg off his hand when he released me. “Follow me...” he added, in a slight mutter. So I did.

What had just happened, I never wanted to know.

And so I learned when life hands you eggs, use it to cook up some sweet revenge.