Our Little Secret

Billie walked into the lunchroom the next day with Tre following behind. They walked over to their table, and as usual, Mike was waiting with their food. The two sat down opposite Mike as he slid them their trays.

"Y'know," Billie Joe announced, "We've still gotta come up with something for Saturday."

Tre rolled his eyes with a smirk. "You really don't have to do anything for my birthday." It seemed to Tre that Billie was fairly insistent they were going to be giving Tre something in celebration. "I'll live without you getting me anything."

Billie groaned. "Well, we have to do something. But let's not go to be mall this time." he shuddered. "I don't need to see you in another mini skirt."

Mike laughed and closed his eyes, trying to erase the image from his memory.

"Can't be more than, like, half a foot above the knee," Billie continued, joining in on the laughter. "Those are the rules."

"Oh, please. You both enjoyed it," Tre accused snidely. "You just won't admit it."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Billie said teasingly. He took a sip of his pop. "But no, come on, I'm serious. We have to do something for your birthday. We'd be some pretty pathetic friends if we didn't."

"What if we go to that house party?" Mike suggested between bites of his sandwich. He was only half paying attention to this conversation. He did notice, though, Tre perk up at the word "party."

Billie looked at him quizzically. "Wait, what party?"

"I don't know," he replied. "You were telling me about some party that that one chick invited you to or something."

Billie looked at him blankly, but then nodded his head as he slowly realized what Mike was talking about. "Oh, the hot one! It was Tasha! Or… Terry?" He scratched the back of his head as he slumped down a little. "Or was it Wi—?"

"Billie," Mike interrupted, though he was somewhat enjoying watching Billie try to recall "the hot one's" name, knowing he had been correct with his first guess. "Not the point. Where's the party and who's going?" he asked directly.

"Oh, it's, like, twenty minutes or so from our house. It's off Barclay. But I don't know if we know anyone going."

"Is it, like, a bunch of jocks or anything?" he asked, hoping it wouldn't be. Not that Billie would have ever gotten invited to a "popular" party directly, but oftentimes those things spread like wildfire.

"Oh, hell no. I think it was… Tasha's… brother who started it."

While Mike was shaking his head at Billie, Tre turned to look at him questioningly. "Why'd this chick even invite you if she doesn't know you. I didn't think you were exactly popular," he commented snidely.

Billie smirked. "She likes our band. She's our self-proclaimed biggest fan."

"Not that that's saying much," Mike added, earning himself a glare from his best friend.

"Hey, we're good and we've got plenty of admirers."

Mike laughed. "'Admirers'? In your dreams. We're good, but I don't think we'll have anyone fawning over us anytime soon."

Billie exhaled louder than necessary. "Yeah, yeah." They were just messing with one another. They both knew Mike was right (though, Tasha was, in fact, a fan of them and made it a point to catch as many of their shows as possible).

Billie dropped the conversation when he realized was rather hungry and hadn't eaten anything yet. He poked at his food suspiciously and warily took a bite, pulling a disgusted face. Tre and Mike didn't hesitate to throw their own "meatloaf" onto his tray, as they had no intentions of eating it themselves. "Oh, come on, guys," he said looking somewhat grossed out, "This shit's gross."

Mike and Tre ignored him. "So, what do you say, Tre? Party on Saturday?"

"Sure," Tre answered with a grin. "It's a date."



"Okay," Mike began as he walked into his last class, "Do you ever think that just maybe we're not the nicest guys in the planet?" he asked jokingly.

Tre looked up at him from his notebook. "Why do you say that?"

"Billie went home last hour. He was puking his guts out," he replied, failing to hold back an amused smile. Of course, he wasn't happy Billie Joe got sick, but it was kind of funny when he nearly threw up on the bathroom floor because he just had to make a smart comment to Mike.

"What does that have to do with us?"

Mike laughed. "He probably got food poisoning at lunch from all that shit we gave him."

Like Mike, Tre failed to hold back a chuckle. "That's too bad."

"Yeah, and I mean, he'll be fine soon enough. It's not serious or anything."

"But I take it practice is canceled?" he asked.

Mike nodded affirmatively. "I don't think he'll be up to it."

Tre nodded. "I'll have to call my dad and have him pick me up. He dropped me off this mornig 'cause I thought I'd be heading home with you."

"Oh, no, you can still come if you want," Mike offered. "Billie just won't be all that into it."

"Yeah? I won't be annoying Billie any?"

Mike shrugged. "He won't mind. He's probably bored right now anyways. That or sleeping," he mused.

"'Kay. Then I wouldn't have to bug my dad." He smirked. "I'll just bug Billie instead."



Mike pushed open the door to Billie's room as quietly as he could, not wanting to disrupt him. Tre stood behind him patiently. "Billie," Mike whispered, "You awake?"

"Yeah," Billie called out. He didn't sound as sick as Mike and Tre would have anticipated; rather, he sounded annoyed. As Mike and Tre made their way into his room, Billie continued speaking. "Hey, do you think we can maybe practice a little?"

Mike lowered his eyes at him. "No."

Billie sat up a little in his bed. "But Mike—"

"Billie, you're sick."

Billie Joe rolled his eyes. "I'm not that sick."

"Billie!" Mike said in exasperation. "You nearly threw up on me!"

Tre laughed at this revelation while Billie tried to defend himself. "That was, like, three hours ago. I'm fine now."

As he stared down his friend, Mike decided they could probably get away with a bit of practice as long as they didn't do anything too strenuous. "Fine. But if you puke, we're done," he threatened.

Billie smiled and shoved his covers off of himself. "Great. We won't practice too much because I know how you worry," he teased. He stood up quickly and made his way to the corner to grab his guitar. "Y'know," he said as he walked back over to his friends, "If we want to, we could go ahead and show—" He stopped talking and slowly set his guitar down. "Umm…"

"Billie, you okay?"

"…I… I think I'm gonna be sick," he said as he quickly made his way out of the room.

Tre looked after him. "Should we…?"

"Nah, he can take care of himself. I'll follow him in in a minute if he's not out," Mike answered. After a moment of awkward silence, Mike spoke up. "I can take you home now if you want."

"Should you make sure Billie's okay first?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah. And then we'll head out?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Okay, you wait here and I'll see how he's doing."

A couple minutes later, Mike came back into the room with Billie on his side. "I'm sorry, Tre," Billie apologized. "You don't have to go but…"

"Billie, come on," Mike guided as he led Mike to his bed. "You need to get some sleep. I'll take Tre home while you rest, okay?"

Billie nodded tiredly. "See you later," he mumbled.

"See you," Tre said. He and Mike left him alone in his room as they headed out.