Half Wit

Chapter 1

"Just make your own fuckin’ babies will you?" Emelie Armstrong muttered between gritted teeth, averting her eyes from the other teenaged girls that she walked past as she stalked through the hallway of her school.

It had become something of a joke for the same idiotic phrases to be thrown her way whenever she happened to be around; the girls that didn’t like her—though to be fair, they seemed to hate everyone else in the school, too—often took joy in screaming, “Oh, that Billie Joe Armstrong! Sooo cute! I’d have his babies!” or any mixture of said words whenever they caught sight of her, just for the sheer fact that it annoyed Emelie. Several younger and older girls were screaming things behind her, something about Billie Joe and his band mates, and more about babies, no doubt, though the girl wasn’t listening. Emelie jerked her head backwards and in a swift motion, and one of her dark brown, nearly black dreadlocks fell behind her shoulder.

She sighed tiredly and tried not to let her books fall. Carefully, trying to avoid the watchful eyes of any teachers or hallway aides, she snuck outside through the front double-doors and sat down on one of the wooden benches, finally giving her arms a rest as she placed the stack of books on the table. Next up was a free period, and she was going to use that time to read further in her new book. Her newest volume was something she had found in her parents’ closet when she had been rummaging for extra guitar picks the other day. The title alone had attracted her attention.

"Oh, hold up there, you!" a voice rang out from behind her. Emelie rolled her eyes and groaned, turning around slowly and looking in a rather annoyed way at the person that was quickly striding up to her.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

It was a girl that looked to be about Emelie’s age, or at least they were around the same height, who was pulling her light brown hair into a ponytail even as she reached the table.

As was usual, the girl’s eyes were hidden behind a pair of black-rimmed sunglasses with pinkish-purple lenses; she never took them off, no matter of the weather, or even if it was night outside. Emelie had long suspected that this had to do with the other girl’s slight obsessive compulsive tendencies, though never said anything about it. Also, as was usual, the back of her long black coat, of which the buttons were designed to be skulls, was flapping along behind her; she hardly took it off. Once again, the band logo and name on her dark t-shirt was not one that Emelie recognized, as her friend had some odd musical tastes, and Emelie hardly ever knew the bands she talked about anyway.

"I’m just reading..." Emelie mumbled quietly under her breath, a small blush appearing on her cheeks.

"Right...thought so," the girl sighed, shaking her head sadly at Emelie. Sitting down on the other side of the wooden bench, the brown-haired girl watched Emelie with interest as she tried to read.

"You know your father is Billie Joe Armstrong right?" the girl asked, an eyebrow cocked in amusement.

“Do you really have to start this again?”

“Until you start accepting the point I’ve been trying to make for years, yes. Now then…you do know who your father is, right?”

"Yes, Andrea, I know," Emelie sighed sadly, trying—and failing—to keep her concentration on her book. Andrea nodded.

"Yeah…you sure about that?" Andrea asked, raising her eyebrow again. Emelie looked up from her book, annoyed, and mimicked Andrea’s facial expression, eyebrow and all.

"Yeah, and since you’ve already met him and have since then used every opportunity available to compare him to me, I'm pretty sure," Emelie said, showing Andrea a small smirk before she went back to her reading material.

"Because you're just nothing alike, you know?" Andrea said, leaning her head on her hands. Emelie gave it up and closed her book, knowing that she wouldn't be able to read any further anyway, with Andrea sitting in front of her. Andrea was one of her friends, one of the few she had, however aggravating she could be, and so at least she deserved her full attention.

Andrea was also the only person Emelie knew that would spend all of her time trying to analyze Billie Joe and Emelie herself, just to see if they were really family, even if she already knew it. Emelie didn't keep it a national secret that she was Billie Joe Armstrong's daughter, nor did she announce it randomly in public to get advantages. She tried to be herself and a respectable young woman as much as possible, just like her father had taught her to be. But Andrea was fascinated by the differences between father and daughter; she was the black sheep of her own family, Emelie knew, even if she got along with them, and so loved finding others like herself while trying to figure out how such an anomaly came to be in the first place. Such personal research was one step away from becoming her life’s work.

"I mean, you have dreads," Andrea started, counting on her fingers.

"Like my mother..." Emelie added, interrupting Andrea and getting a rather nasty glare for it in return. “Who does them for me, as you well know.”

"You have brown eyes," Andrea continued, "like Adrienne, yes I know," she quickly added, rolling her eyes; Emelie had open her mouth to say something again. Emelie nodded and crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking bored.

"The only thing you have in common with your dad is that you like to visit other countries," Andrea finished, folding her hands neatly on the table in front of her and looking at Emelie as if she was some sort of professional psychologist. “Which I guess shouldn’t be a shock. You’ve gotten to go on tours, though your dad won’t let you go to every one, so I guess by this age you should be used to visiting other countries anyway. But other than that?”

"I have ink, just like my dad," Emelie sighed.

"Oh yes, you have some words permanently printed into your skin with ink. Doesn't that make you look more like your dad?" Andrea said sarcastically. Andrea was a bit of a ‘natural’ person, always having been against tattoos, body piercings, or anything that she considered to be against nature. Even hair dye. But that was probably because her parents raised her like that, and they still adhered by these beliefs every day, especially now that she was in high school. Emelie sighed and rolled her eyes as she started to pack up her books, trying to put them all in the small backpack she brought with her.

"And we both write," Emelie added somewhat hopefully. “I mean, I don’t write songs or anything and I’m not like…spectacular at it, or anything, but I still enjoy it. So does he, obviously.”

In a way, it was actually kind of a comfort to know that she looked and acted more like her mother than she did her father. To know that some thousands of girls, if not more, probably adored her mother, not only because she was the wife of Billie Joe Armstrong, front man of the major punk band Green Day, but also because she was so damn pretty. According to all those girls, of course, and it was something Emelie had to agree with. Her mother was one of the most beautiful women she knew. Unfortunately, the facial similarities that Adrienne and Emelie shared didn’t look nearly as striking upon Emelie, with her somewhat narrow face; sometimes, she just looked a little odd. But still, Emelie happened to like the way she looked just fine, and that was what counted.

“And we have the same hair color, only he chooses to dye it black; mine’s near that color naturally, anyway. And don't say anything, I know how you think about that,” Emelie snorted, while she picked up some of the books that didn't fit in the backpack. The two young girls walked into the school for their last hour of the week, after which they would go their own separate ways and not talk to each other again until Monday. That was just the way it went with them.

“Oh yeah, and excluding those things, anything else you have in common with your rock star father?” Andrea asked. She was really starting to annoy Emelie, as she didn't always want to be thinking about the fact that she didn't have a lot in common with her father in the first place. Emelie turned to face her friend, standing in front of the door to her math class.

“We both like Starbucks coffee?” Emelie asked, hopeful that her friend would accept that as a thing she had in common with her father. Andrea looked at her with an eyebrow raised and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“And we both hate school, our president, we think the same way about our environment and—” Emelie started, but Andrea cut her off before she could say anything else.

“That's only because you were raised like that! Because he's been like that ever since you were born!” Andrea retorted. Emelie sighed and shook her head before she pushed the door open and walked into the room. The teacher was already there, wiping the blackboard with her notes already laid out on her desk, waiting to be pumped in the brains of the students for the next hour.

Emelie took her seat at the third row, next to the window. Andrea, who always sat next to her, had been faster than her and was already getting out a pencil and some pens to write down the notes the teacher would dictate during the lesson. Emelie sat down and pouted, getting out her own notes and books as slowly as she could, trying to lose some time.

“I mean, you practically look nothing like your dad. No wonder some of the Green Day fans are really wondering if you're his...” Andrea trailed off, deciding that now would be a good time to shut up. Emelie shot a glare at her friend, which would have silenced her almost immediately if she hadn’t already stopped talking.

“What? I'm only saying what the others think.” Andrea mumbled quietly. Emelie kept the glare fixated on Andrea but soon directed her attention to the fact that the teacher had started to write things down on the blackboard.

“I don't care what the others think, and neither should you. For god’s sake, stop believing all those stupid Internet rumors that the jealous fans post,” Emelie whispered to her friend before she turned her attention back to her notes. She saw Andrea glare at her from the corner of her eye but chose to ignore it, knowing that her friend would only provoke her even more. Her eyes fell on her wrists, causing her to smile slightly and think back at how she got the two texts circling around her wrists printed in her skin forever. For some reason, just knowing that they were there calmed her no matter what her mood, which was the effect she’d been hoping for when she had them done.

It had taken her a while before her father, and mother, had accepted the fact that she wanted a tattoo. Even though it wasn't an obnoxious one, and goodness knew how many of those her father had, they still were against the fact that their fifteen-year-old daughter had decided to get a tattoo. But the week after she had turned sixteen, her father had taken her to a tattoo parlor and had paid for the ink, advising her not to tell her mother about it until he had told her himself. Emelie had chosen for the text to be printed upon her skin in some dark, black letters.

The text was something she had written a few weeks before her birthday; she had gotten so creative at that moment, and the line that had seemingly slipped right out from her subconscious had really drawn her attention. At first, her friends were opposed to the fact that she had a tattoo, especially Andrea, who threw a hissy fit about it, but when they had seen it…well, some of them were still dodgy about it, but others told her that they loved it.

The text on her left wrist, Farther than you can find me, I'm leaving... was followed up by the other line of text on her right wrist And when we go, we won't say goodbye. Emelie had never been someone for big ink with big colors and drawings; she liked to keep it simple. The two tattoos were safely hidden underneath the many bracelets she wore every day.

Emelie sighed and shook her head slightly, smiling a little at her wrists and then turning her attention back at the lesson, of which the teacher had already written the whole blackboard full. Emelie jumped a little in surprise, and quickly grabbed her pen, writing everything over from the blackboard before the teacher could erase it.

From the corner of her eye, Emelie saw Andrea shake her head in disapproval but Emelie ignored it, and continued to write down everything in her sloppy handwriting; the same handwriting that most of her teachers couldn't decipher even if they were trying hard enough. When the bell rang, the room was filled with the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor, backpacks being closed rapidly, and mumbles and indistinguishable words spread amongst the students, as it was Friday night and everyone wanted to know everyone else’s plans.

Emelie yawned a little and closed her notes after writing down the last sentence of formulas. Knowing that her backpack was already filled with books and almost couldn't close anymore, Emelie chose to carry it in her arms with some of her other books, including the paperback she was reading during her break an hour ago.

“You were daydreaming, weren't you?” Andrea asked. “You were staring at your wrists again.”

“Can I help it, math is so fucking boring,” Emelie said, shifting her backpack slightly on her shoulder so it would stop digging into her skin in such a way. Andrea sighed and shook her head; she could never understand why Emelie didn't like the subject, as to her math was rather easy; she always did well in that class.

Emelie often commented that it was the only subject that could make her feel smart, and then jokingly add the fact that she really wasn’t. That was just the way they talked. Teasing each other, telling rumors to each other – and annoy the hell out of each other, which was Andrea’s specialty – but in the end, they always had some interesting subjects to bond over, and it made their conversation all the more interesting. Emelie's eyes rested on the Starbucks down the road and across the street from the school, she slowly started to walk towards it.

“You know where to find me if you need me!” she yelled over her shoulder, crossing the street and trying not to drop her backpack on the ground together with all the books in her hands. Andrea looked at the back of her friend, who was disappearing in the coffee shop and shook her head sadly, sighing a little. Slowly, she started to walk towards the car of her mother, who waiting for her to arrive and, as usual, was blocking traffic.

* * *

Emelie sat at one of the tables in the back of the coffee shop, reading the book she had been seen with only hours ago before Andrea had interrupted her. She had a small smile playing on her lips and a cup of hot and steamy coffee sitting right in front of her, just within arm’s reach. Some of the girls a few tables away from her were giggling and occasional pointing at her, only to result in another fit of giggles and a whole lot of whispers. She knew them from school, yet at the same time she didn’t; they were upperclassmen who liked to tease anyone younger than them, so Emelie knew better than to take it personally.

“I knew I'd find you here,” a deeper voice said, filled with amusement as a dark shape sidled up next to her table. Emelie looked up from her book and smiled at her father as he sat down in front of her with his own cup of coffee; probably already half empty, knowing him.

“You know me, I just can’t resist the call of a good cup of coffee after a hard week of school, tests, and homework,” Emelie said, smiling a little. The bags under her eyes were enough proof to show Billie Joe that she was completely worn out and that the weekend was a welcomed thing. “And those fans following me around the whole school asking if the rumors they're inventing are true is such a drag.” Emelie rolled her eyes and focused on her book again as her father chuckled and shook his head.

Billie turned his head slightly as he tried to see which book his daughter was reading. Clearly, it must be a good book, otherwise she wouldn't read it, right? He’d learned not to doubt her taste in literature, over the years. But as hard as he tried, he just couldn't figure out what book she was reading. He sighed and pouted, leaning back in his seat and simply staring at his daughter until she took the hint and glanced up again.

“Stop staring at me. You know I hate that when you do that,” Emelie said, half whining and half pouting a little as she made straight eye contact with the bright green eyes of her father.

“What are you reading?” Billie Joe asked, nodding to the book and pointing to it with one finger, as his hand was currently occupied with holding the coffee cup so it wouldn't fall and spill all of the caffeinated goodness inside.

“A book. It's about a series of incestuous relationships within a family that eventually led to the conception of a hermaphrodite. Good shit,” Emelie replied, smiling a little, satisfied with her answer and the fact that she had just completely confused her father.

She took another sip of her coffee and closed her eyes for just a brief moment. Billie Joe rolled his eyes and muttered something that was probably along the lines of “Smartass…” under his breath. She didn't respond to it. Instead, she chose to close her book and put it back on the stack of other books before she threw her empty cup of coffee away. Together, father and daughter walked out of the coffee shop to greet the bright sunlight outside, both of which seemed to recoil from at first, squinting their eyes against it.

“You know your mother is going to ask where we were the whole time, right?” Billie Joe said, raising an eyebrow at his daughter, as she was smiling smugly while still struggling to keep the books from falling on the ground. “I told her I was gonna come for coffee and get right back; a couple of minutes, tops.”

“I'll just tell her that we were held up by a group of teenage girls who wanted to have your babies, and know when your next album is going to come out. When is that again?” Emelie asked, certain that her lie would only cause her mother to laugh and shake her head, knowing that her husband and daughter had just been sitting in the Starbucks right across the street. They were there fairly often; the workers knew them by first name basis, and what their ‘usuals’ were.

“I told you, this Tuesday,” Billie said, annoyed at having to answer to the question again. Emelie giggled slightly and nodded while she watched him open the car and waited for him to open the trunk so she could put her books there. Billie sighed and shook his head, looking at her in amusement as she carefully placed her books on the floor of the trunk.

“Shouldn't you like, you know, be happy about the fact that I'm still at home for the weekend? I'm leaving on tour next week and then you won't see me again for a couple of weeks after that,” Billie said as he walked to the other side of the car and got in the drivers seat. Emelie closed the trunk and chose to sit on the back seat of the car, lying down with her knees slightly bent and her eyes fixated on the ceiling.

“Yeah, well, you know, you love touring, so it won't be that bad. I'm pretty used to it, but Jakob is another story, you know?” Emelie said, looking away from the gray ceiling of the black DMW. Billie Joe shrugged slightly and nodded, trying to hide his discomfort.

“What took you so long to release it anyway? I mean, the record has been ready for months…” Emelie trailed off, looking back at the ceiling. Billie let out a small chuckle and tried to keep his eyes on the road; it was a difficult task, since he was also trying to look at his daughter while speaking to her courtesy of the rearview mirror.

“Hopefully, since it’s going to be released on Tuesday, the girls on school will get off my back and stop asking me when it’s coming out. Only now, they're going to ask if I could make sure you come to school so they can ask you personal questions about it.” Emelie said, rolling her eyes. Billie Joe snickered, amused with the fact that his daughter sometimes hated the younger fans so much. He knew it shouldn’t have amused him so much, of course, but it could have been worse…at least she wasn’t particularly bitter about such a loss of privacy in her life. She did take with a rather dark sort of humor, but that was normal behavior coming from her so he tried not to worry about it.

“So how was it at school today?” Billie Joe asked, wondering if the school was still the same as he remembered it: boring and a complete drag. Emelie sighed and yawned, rubbing her eyes as she noticed sleep was starting to take over her body; something that was probably not being deterred by the warmth that hung around in the car.

“Oh, same old, same old, you know? Like, teachers nagging us all the time, and letting us write down so much that our hands hurt at the end of the day…the usual, you know?” Emelie said, waving with one hand in the air rather dramatically just to state her point. “And yes, I noticed that I used at least twice 'you know' in one sentence,” she quickly added as her father started to laugh at her; clearly he was already rubbing off on her again, even though he'd just graced her with his presence about a half hour ago.

“It’s all your fault you know,” Emelie mumbled under her breath, only causing Billie Joe to burst out in with laughing.

“Oh yes, blame it on your old man, why don't you?” Billie whined, mocking her a little and faking a pout as he stopped in front of the red light.

“Always, Dad...always. Mom says I should. Besides, as you said, I should take advantage of the fact that you're still home.” Emelie smirked. A silence got between them for a moment and the only sound Emelie heard was Billie's soft breathing and her own as the light turned green and he started driving again.

“Dad, if school goes with the whole ‘practice to be perfect’ thing, but no one is perfect, then why should we practice?” Emelie asked, breaking the silence after another couple of seconds. She sat up and looked at the back of her father’s head.

“Stealing quotes from me now, eh?” Billie Joe laughed a little. They made eye contact through the rear mirror for just a small second. “Oh well, can’t blame you. I’m a pretty cool guy. Totally quote-worthy.”

“Just answer the question, Dad,” Emelie sighed, though she was unable to fight a small smile from her lips.

“Hon', school isn't just that. It teaches you certain things in life that you'll need to get a job...or something,” Billie Joe explained, carefully choosing his words as he drove up the driveway of their home. He grabbed the empty cup of coffee from the build-in cup holder and clicked the button to pop open the back trunk.

“Then why did you drop out?” Emelie asked, enjoying the trouble she was putting her father through just so he would give her a reasonable answer.

“Because school sucked back then, and it still does, clearly.” He muttered the last part as he looked at all the books his daughter was carrying in her arms. “And music was more important to me,” he quickly added as Emelie shot him a knowing smile. Billie matched her grin as she grabbed her books and they headed for the front door to the house; as soon as they entered he completed his routine of putting his keys back in the bowl as he hung up his coat.

“By the way? I can see where this conversation is going. Or at least where you’re trying to make it go. And for the record, no, you can't drop out of school,” Billie said firmly, looking over his shoulder to face Emelie for only a small moment before he walked in the kitchen.

“No fair!” Emelie shouted after him, annoyed, before she sighed and shook her head. At least it was worth a shot, she thought, as she slowly walked up the stairs, peeking over the tower of books in her arms so she wouldn't fall. “Stupid psychic father…”

* * *

“What was all that about?” Adrienne asked curiously as she took some vegetables out of the fridge and placed them on the counter. Billie Joe shrugged slightly before he wrapped his arms around her waist, giving her a sloppy kiss on the neck as she shrieked in both surprise and delight.

“Eww! Emelie! They're kissing again!” A younger voice interrupted them and they just managed to see a whirl of black hair disappear behind the corner. Billie smiled slightly at the mental image of their youngest son, who was probably interrupting Emelie now to tell of his latest discovery in the kitchen. Adrienne giggled at the antics of their nine-year-old, and was surprised by another peck on the cheek from Billie before he chose to chase after the boy. Not too soon after he left the kitchen, Adrienne heard some high-pitched screams followed by a fit of laughter and giggles, causing her smile only to grow wider.

“Uh…did somebody call me?” Adrienne looked up at her daughter and smiled slightly at her appearance. Emelie had pinned up her dreads with a loose hair band, but was still wearing her school uniform; a short red skirt with a white blouse and a sleeveless black vest over it. Two-colored, black and white ones which she probably stole from her father, striped socks reached over her knees and some high boots that she loved—technically she was breaking dress code with her ‘additions’ to the uniform, but most of the girls and boys at the school did, and the faculty had the tendency to let it slide.

“Well, don't just stand there! Help me out here for a bit! Why are you so late anyway?”

Emelie shrugged and started to move around the kitchen, taking some of the vegetables from her mother and placing them on the counter at the other side of the kitchen.

“Oh the usual. We were held up by a group of teenage girls who wanted to have Dad's babies and know when their next album is going to come out.” She rolled her eyes and turned her back on her mother as she started to clean and cut some carrots. “I told them they could have Joey and Jakob, but they didn’t seem interested.”

“In other words—”

“I was drinking Starbucks, doing some homework, and reading a bit when Dad came to pick me up, but he didn't want to leave before he had his own cup of coffee first.” Emelie finished the sentence before Adrienne could. Adrienne laughed a little and shook her head, knowing that it was only to be expected that her daughter and husband had spent time together in the Starbucks right across the street of the school.

“You promised you wouldn't tell!” Scandalized, Billie interrupted the two girls, entering the kitchen and carrying Jakob over his shoulder.

“I'm terribly sorry, but she promised me cookies if I told her!” Emelie said dramatically. Billie's eyes lit up at the mentioning of cookies; though he smiled and shook his head at Adrienne, disagreeing with her method.

“Alright, while you girls...work in the kitchen,” Billie said, waving his hand in the air as he stated his point, “I'll go and drop this little boy of at his friend’s...friend’s house.” He frowned, being confused of what he just said himself. “Isn't that right, buddy?” Billie asked as he looked over his shoulder at Jakob, who looked like Christmas had come earlier.

“Yeah!” Jakob said, a big smile on his lips as he started to wiggle in his father’s grip as a way to let him know he needed to be put down on the ground. Billie chuckled and placed Jakob back on his two feet and seconds later the young boy ran out of the kitchen and to his room to get ready.

“He's spending the night there and they'll go to some funpark tomorrow. And Joey is also at his friend’s house but he won't be home 'til late;” Billie said, letting his wife know about the whereabouts of her sons for the evening. Adrienne nodded and gave Billie a small kiss on the lips, ignoring the groan coming from Emelie.

“Oh, and the guys'll come over after dinner for some band practice, okay?” Billie halted in the doorway and looked over his shoulder as he said this. Jakob was already screaming down the hall for his father to hurry up and get ready.

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Adrienne smiled as she looked back at the vegetables she was cutting into small pieces. Billie shot Emelie another small smile before he left to drop Jakob of, who had grown rather impatient during the time his father took to get ready.

“You already did your homework?” Adrienne asked out of the blue, clearly forgetting that Emelie mentioned before that she already did it. Emelie didn't turn around, and nor did she look up from the carrots she was cutting.

“Yeah, I told you, I did it while at Starbucks,” she answered truthfully. She grabbed the stack of cut vegetables and placed them on the counter where her mother was working. “Anything else you want me to do?” she asked as she cleaned her hands.

“Not immediately, I'll call you when I do, okay? Now get out of the kitchen, you're in my way,” Adrienne said jokingly as she pushed Emelie out of the kitchen and went back to her cooking. Emelie yawned and walked to her room, picking up her book and then went down towards the basement.

She threw her book on the grey couch on the other side of the room as she looked at the collection of Gibson guitars her father had. There had to be at least twenty of them hanging on the wall, neatly next to each other. Emelie smiled and picked the nearest guitar from its hanger. White, electric, Gibson Les Paul Junior, just like her dad liked it. She plucked the strings several times and then shook her head.

“Seriously Dad, tune your guitars from time to time,” she muttered under her breath, sitting back down on the couch and starting her work to tune the guitar properly.