Billie Jo

When Billie Jo made it to her locker two days after Mike’s phone call, she looked like she had just crawled out of bed and put on clothes from the bottom of her dresser. Mike stared at her wide-eyed. Even the few times he had slept over at Billie’s house, she looked more put-together than she did at the moment. Hair in a headband, nightgown without a single wrinkle, moisturizer and lotion. Now she had on a wrinkled black skirt, a short-sleeved purple shirt, and sneakers. Her hair was a mess of lank curls pulled back into a ponytail and she had no make-up on.

“You all right?” Mike asked, eyebrow raised.

“Whatever.” Billie muttered, pulling books out of her locker.

There was a pause. “You’re not a slut.” Mike said quietly. Billie didn’t move for a moment, then rifled through a notebook under the pretense that she was looking for something. “I shouldn’t have called you a slut.” Mike said, a little more loudly. “I’m sorry.”

Billie looked at him. “I don’t care. Just do what you want, okay? You can fuck random girls or shoot up or kill people. Just leave me out of it.”

Mike kicked at the ground. “I don’t want to leave you out of it, Billie Jo. You’re my best friend.” The girl looked at him in surprise. It was the first time Mike had ever said anything like that. He wasn’t very affectionate, especially with words. Calling her things like ‘cutie’ had always fallen into the flirting category, not affection. “So, I’m sorry, okay?”

Billie stared hard at Mike’s shoulder. “How did you find out anyway?”

“Tre.” Mike answered. “Guys talk about girls, Billie. It’s just what we do.”

“Well, it’s wrong.” she snapped. “Getting caught by the cops was bad enough without Tre telling everyone that we—“

“Wait.” Mike interrupted. “You got caught by the cops?” he asked incredulously, almost blushing at his next question. “Were you, you know . . . finished?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Billie mumbled. “It just . . . I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jess was passing them as Billie turned back to her locker. “Hey, Mike. We still on for tonight?”

Billie’s green eyes immediately turned to the boy as he nodded. Jess grinned and took off down the hallway.

“That the blonde girl you hooked up with at the club?” Billie asked. Mike gave another small nod. “You’re an asshole, Pritchard.”

“And you’re a dick.” he snapped. Ten seconds later his eye was swelling and his nose was bleeding.

“Eat. Shit.” Billie Jo snapped, slamming her locker door and storming down the hallway.

Mike’s eyes filled with tears and he cursed, neither of which had to do with his bleeding nose. He kicked his locker, hating himself.

Meanwhile, Billie Jo was leaning against the brick wall of the back of the school, fighting her tears. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

* * *

“Billie, please open the door.” Mike said, his knuckles red from knocking. “Billie Jo, please!”

A livid looking girl appeared in the doorway, openly glaring at Mike. “What the hell do you want, asshole?”

He was taken aback by the sight of someone he didn’t recognize at Billie’s house, let alone a girl that looked their age. “Who are you?”

“Adrienne.” she snapped. “Now answer my question, fucker.”

“I-I wanted to talk to Billie Jo.” he mumbled, kicking at the ground.

“Well, she don’t want to talk to you. That girl’s too good for white trash like you.”

“I know.” Mike said softly. She heard him, but the girl entering the living room didn’t.

“Adrienne, it’s okay.” she said. “I’ll talk to him. And I don’t need your interjections, so get out.” The girl named Adrienne cursed again and walked out of the house as Mike walked in, slamming the door behind her. “What do you want?” Billie asked, voice hoarse. Her eyes were red from crying and her hair was a mess. She was wearing a tied robe over pajamas.

Mike lowered his eyes for a minute, then looked back at her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did and I shouldn’t have yelled at you or left you at the club. And I’m sorry I . . .” Mike licked his dry lips. “I’m sorry I yelled at you about Tre. I’m just sorry, Billie. For all of it.”

“You should be.” she said quietly. There was a brief pause before the girl sighed. “And I forgive you.” She turned toward the door. “Adrienne, you can stop listening and come in now.”

The girl opened the door and walked in promptly, smiling. Mike’s eyes scanned her body instinctively. Red hair with brown growing out from the roots. Dark brown eyes. Full, pouting, ‘dick-sucking’ lips. Round face. A few inches shorter than Billie Jo. Dressed in a Nirvana hoodie and a pair of skintight black jeans with a red bandana tied around them as a belt, a single skull hanging from her ear.

“Hey, ass. My face is up here.” Adrienne said, snapping her fingers. She was grinning though as she hugged Billie Jo around the waist. “Does your mom have any beer?”

“For the fifth time, no. And I look like shit, so I’ll be right back.” she said, pushing Adrienne off her and walking toward her bedroom.

Mike sat on the coffee table, looking at Adrienne as she pulled a cigarette pack from her pocket and removed a smoke, holding the box out to Mike, who readily accepted one. Two clicks of a lighter and a few drags later, Mike shrugged and asked the question. “How do you know her?”

“Maine.” Adrienne said simply. Her purple lipstick left marks on her cigarette.

“What did she do up there?” Mike asked, suddenly extremely interested. “She won’t tell me.”

“Well, then I ain’t tellin’ ya either, asshole.”

“She doesn’t like memorizing names.” Billie Jo said, entering the room. “She just uses random curses instead.” She was in a pink skirt with a pink and cream sweater, light make-up on her face. Her hair had been brushed and pulled back in a headband.

“You look like a first-grade school teacher.” Adrienne said, rolling her eyes. “Pink, pink, pink. I don’t understand what it is with you girly girls and pink. And do you even own a pair of jeans?”

“Two.” Billie said, sitting down on the couch. “And put your damn cigarettes out now. My mom’s going to kill me.”

Adrienne rolled her eyes. “So you two all better now? Going to go make out and leave me alone with the TV?”

Mike coughed on his cigarette as Billie fought hard against her blush. “I told you we’re not dating, Adrienne.” Two brown eyes looked at her with skepticism. “We’re not!” she protested.

Adrienne rolled her eyes and looked at Mike. “Cat got your tongue, lover boy?”

“We’re not dating.” he muttered, taking a drag off his cigarette and avoiding her gaze.

“He even has a date tonight.” the other girl pointed out, turning her eyes to the boy when he flushed. “Mike?”

He mumbled something, blushing harder when Adrienne raised an eyebrow. “I cancelled it.”

“Why?” Billie asked.

“Because he loves you and wants to have your babies. Duh.” Adrienne said, reaching over and flicking Billie Jo in the forehead. The two girls burst into giggles, joined uncertainly by Mike before he walked outside to put out his cigarette.

* * *

Ollie Armstrong had left the house as soon as she discovered there were three teenagers in it. Mike was sitting next to an open window smoking, while Billie Jo painted Adrienne’s nails a hideous shade of green. The TV was playing music videos that none of them were paying attention to and Dominique appeared to be sleeping. Adrienne sat with her back facing the snake, terrified it would eat her alive despite Billie Jo insisting her pet didn’t bite.

The phone rang when Billie Jo had seven and a half of Adrienne’s nails painted. Without flinching or looking away, she asked Mike to pick it up. “It’s your phone.” he said.

“Oh, don’t be an ass.” Adrienne said. “Just pick it up and say ‘Armstrong residence’.”

“But I’m not an Armstrong or a resident.” Mike said, blowing smoke in the direction of the girls.

“Dumbass.” Adrienne said, almost fondly.

Billie Jo’s face tightened and she capped the nail polish, grabbing the phone. “Hello?” The voice that greeted her was a surprise and, at any other time, would have been an unpleasant one. “Oh. Hi, Tre. Not much, just doing a friend’s nails.” Her green eyes flicked to Mike before staring at her own recently polished nails.

“Get off the phone with him.” Mike snapped. “I don’t want you talk to him.”

“I can talk to whoever I want.” Billie shot back. Her voice grew daring as she turned her back to Mike. “Hey, Tre, what are you doing this weekend?”

“Bring chapstick.” Mike said darkly.

Billie Jo turned back toward him, a hand on her hip, green eyes cold. “Go fuck Jess.” she snarled. “Six? Friday? I’ll see you then.”

“You stupid little—“

“Shut up!” Billie screamed at the same time Adrienne stood up and slapped Mike across the face.

“Don’t you talk to you her like that, you worthless piece of shit. How many girls have you had go down on you? If she wants to go out with someone you’ve got no fucking right to call her a slut. Fucking bastard with your sexist macho bullshit. You make me sick.”

Mike winced at the look on Adrienne’s voice, the words she was throwing at him, and the truth in those verbal darts. His blue eyes glanced at Billie Jo. The girl’s bottom lip trembled as her hands clutched at her skirt.

“I’ll go.” he said finally.

“Good.” Adrienne snapped.

Mike paused as he passed Billie, opened his mouth, shut it, and continued to make his way toward the front door. He had just opened it when he heard his best friend’s voice.

“Mike, wait!” She ran down the hallway, skirt fluttering slightly. When she reached him, she was silent. There was a pause and she then reached out and squeezed his hand.

Mike squeezed back.

“It wasn’t Tre.” Billie whispered. “It was a telemarketer.”

Mike’s laughter was weak. “You’re something else, Billie Jo, I swear.”

The girl smiled. “I’ll—“

”Fucking make out already!” Adrienne yelled from the bedroom.