It Can't Always Be right.

The strap of my messenger bag dug into my shoulder as I walked into the air condioned home. All I had was an algebra II book and a plastic binder in the black and white bag. Maybe it was the ill at ease way the bag was postioned on my collar- bone and such. The pain was fogotten as I took my black chucks off in the foyer. The speckled marbel looked nice and polished. Hm maybe Armstrong got out of bed today, or he Senora Garcia do it.

Two bookbags were negligently thrown in the corner of the foyer by the antique coat rack. The distinct patern of Sponge Bob on one, and the Batman patern of the other were only to prove the other two Armstrongs were probably in the family room watching TV or playing playstation.

I walked into the kitchen making sure I didn’t step on the family feline, Sprinkle Face, and spotted a sloppy written note on the counter top of the island. Emperor Armstrong requested laundry to be done and kids to be tamed, not to mention I had to make dinner. He was not to be disturbed in his bedroom, and if he were there would be severe conciquences. Well unless there was a fire or some emergancy.

What a day this is going to be, try to get an eleven year old and an eight-year not to fight, make dinner that might…hopefully…will be edible, and not to mention try to not upset Papa Smirf. Ugh. Divorce blows. Times 10. Already I heard wails from the family room erupt into the kitchen. And it starts.

I flew so fast into the family room that the two boys dropped the remote they were fighting over so fast they couldn’t even try to act innocent The pair of deep brown eyes starred blankly at me. The both read, “please don’t get our dad”. For they knew he was god, and if they messed with god they would get smited.

“You in your room with your homework, you in the kitchen. I want you doing the dishes. And if there not done in fifteen minutes you get a bad report. And if you don’t have half of your homework done in the next half hour you get a bad report. And I know all the tricks boys, you’re NOT going to get anything over on me.” They both seperated into different directions without complaint, they knew if they didn’t do what they were told they would get the biggest ass beating of their life, from their father, compliments from me, ah thank you.

I turned off the TV and started gathering stray articles of clothing. Now day’s things were being run different at the Armstrong residence. There is no Adrienne to be barking orders at, if theres no Adrienne theres no order. And when theres no order, a poor girl with barely a social life at it is gets hustled into a taking her job that her father guilts her into taking.

I picked up an old ragedy Misfits shirt and threw it into the beat up plastic laundry basket. The washer and dryer were down stairs in the basement, and since the stairs leading down to the basement were steep and a bitch to go up and down, I have decided I will do that in a little bit. FOR NOW I have decided to tackle an hour and a halfs worth of math homework my teacher, Mr. Flauer, decided to throw at us today. Obviously a punishment for our unruly talking today in class, I thought we talked about great subjects, the usual gossip, whos fucking who?

After closing my math book and taking a quick stretch I looked into the kitchen. Joey sat at the island finishing what was left of his Grammar homework; he was long finished with the few dishes he had to conquer. Now it was turn to check on little Jakob.

I walked up the winding but beautiful staircase to the second story of the magnificent house. Jakobs door was cracked and I could hear him singing to himself. Singing what, I don’t know. His voice was soft but so powerfuls, like his fathers. I peered into the bedroom. He was sitting at his desk a pencil in his hand looking over a textbook of some sort.

I was proud of Joey and Jakob. More than I have ever been proud of myself. They had overcome something that I had struggled with at their age. Divorce. My father had been married twice. The two women were shallow and a horrible match for my father, taking advantage of him every chance they got. It seemed to me he proposed only based on the fact that they were gorgeous. Something I never saw, I just saw money hungry Barbie dolls, plastic in every way.

But I did get something out of the two marriages. Two wonderful siblings, Ramona && Frankito. But to my dad, I was his little girl, his little Adalae. His first born, his first spawn of his own flesh and blood. We were thick as thieves as my mother would put it. I would always trail behind my father, just holding onto his pointer finger.

But when he had left my mother [they were never technically divorced…because they were never technically married…but to me it felt like it was a divorce] I couldn’t forgive him for a while, he hurt her so bad. Her feelings were smashed against everything they built together. Then to turn around and marry something so fake and too good to be true…pfft yeah right.

I live with dad now that I’m in my teen years. My mother and I don’t get along to well, its kinda like we’re two alpha females. Basically going at each other’s throats every chance we got.

I shrugged the past events out of my head and headed toward the master bath. Armstrong never cleans up in there; I know there is going to be horrible smelly clothes. I pushed the slightly opened door with my fingers.

My thoughts casscaded when I saw the horrible mess. Mirror was broken, the toliet look just repulsive, hair products were scadered, and worst of all it was barren. All of Adriennes knick kancks that she had placed very cutely around the bathroom where gone. Now it was just an empty crème colored bathroom.

I tried my best to be quiet. I didn’t want to wake dearest Billie Joe. But I couldn’t help but look into the bedroom. He was a asleep, blanket askew, and his look didn’t seem very good. He gave 5 o’clock shadow a new name. He looked cold as well.

Ugh. What do I do? I quietly stepped into his bedroom, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. I couldn’t help notice the beer bottles, the empty pizza box, and the several dirty dishes scattered around the room. Ughhh.

I made no sound as I approached the bed his arm lying limp, fingers almost touching the ground. I moved him carefully onto his back, placing his arm gently onto his stomach. I pulled the blankets up around his shoulders. I bent down slowly and kissed his forhead.

”Sleep tight Billie, we love you so much. Espically me.” I whispered quietly.

I left the room, grabbing all the stray garbage and dishes on my way out. It was nearly 8:30 and the boys had to be in bed at nine. I walked into Jakobs room with my arms full of the revolting dishes and such.

“Shower, now. And I want you to go tell your brother to go right after you…got it?” He shook his with an agreement.

I sat on the suede couch-watching fuse when the two boys came down to say good night. Each dressed in a pair of boxers and a plain white tee. Their hair wet from the shower they had just taken.

“Night…Adalae.” They said in unison.

“Night boys. I love you times a bagillion.” They each gave me a hug and a kiss good night.

I cleaned up my mess, and did the final dishes. Taking Billie Joe into consideration I wrapped him up a small dish of spagetti I had made. I put it in the fridge with a little note for sleeping beauty.

Again I traveled upstairs to check on Papa Armstrong. I went through the master bath, yet again. This time a shadow of light discharged out from the crack left open from earlier today. Maybe I should leave him alone. Nah.

I peeked into the room before just walking in. Billie Joe was sat up in bed looking over things on his laptop. His reading glasses tucked snugly against the bridge of his nose. [[Authors note: yes, he probably doesn’t wear reading glasses, espcially at this age...but I thought it would be fun to add. Ahh hem my fanfiction.]]

He looked over when I opened the door enough to fit through. He smiled nonchalantly and waved to me to come to him.

“Hey…umm Joey and Jakob are in bed…homeworks done…and theres some spagetti in the fridge for you…and umm I forgot to do laundry…fuck I’m sorry…”

“That’s fine, Adalae, totally fine. Well. Um I kinda wanted to talk to you.” He closed the lid of the computer.

“About…?”

“Well I just wanted to thank you. You’ve made these last few weeks very easy on me. And god knows how much I’m drained from everything. Today was a bad day I guess…and I really thank you for being there for Joey and Jakob. They need someone that understands what they’re going through…and you do…and I hope I wasn’t drooling to bad when you came and fixed my blankets…when you moved me I woke up.”

“Oh...So you probably heard what I said right…?” I looked down with embarressment

“Yeah…and it made me feel really good inside. To top it off…I got kissed by thee Adalae Cool. Most wanted young woman in California!!”

“Shut up…I wish you could of came to my show. It would have been nice to see a pretty face in the crowd.”

“I’m so sorry. I just…. couldn’t …ugh.” Billie brushed hands with me. I quickly grabbed it, and laced my fingers with his.

“Its ok. I understand. Really don’t worry about it.” I wiped his bangs from his eyes.

“Well I think…I acted like a total self absorbed prick about the whole thing. I want to make it up to you.”

“Well…I don’t know. You think of something.” I crawled over his body to the other side of the bed. I pulled the comforter up around my waist.

“Well. I don’t know.” Billie Joe took my arm and drug me close to him. I positioned myself in the crook of his arm.

He played with the top button of my Adeline shirt. All of my senses shut down and my brain spun.

“Wha-What are you doing?” I asked in a whisper.

“Adalae you’ve grown into a very beautiful woman. I know it seems awkward, but I can’t help but…want to make a move.”

“But…I’m 17. And you’re 35. Not to mention…my dads your bestfriend.” I looked deeply into his jade green eyes.

No one…no one knows the crush I’ve had on Billie Joe Amrstrong. I’ve had this unspeakable crush now for over…hmm lets see…six years. And an opportune moment like this fits very well in a mind like mine.
To have his hand move across my breast like he wants me…is pretty fucking amazing. What do I do…? What do I do?