What You Can't Have, You Can't Resist

“Laura?” my mother called.
“What?!” I snapped from my room.
“We’ve got to go in five minutes!” she called back. “We’re going on the River Cruise!”
I cursed. Fucking river cruise. The only bad thing about being in New York City was my parents and my idiotic brother, Danny, twittering in my ear every five seconds.
I put my lip ring in, and brushed my hair. My hair, you had to admit, rocked. It was black underneath with light blonde on top.
I was nineteen years old, so I pretty much grew up in the whole “punk rock” scene. I lived in Birmingham, in England but I was currently on holiday in New York for ten days.
I came out of my room. My Mother instantly spotted me and hurried over.
“Laura – take that lip ring out – immediately!” she ordered. “And what on earth are those trousers you’re wearing?”
I ignored her.
“Danny, are you ready yet?” she called to my brother.
“Not yet,” he yelled back.
“Well all right. We’re in no rush,” Mom said back to him. Oh, what the fuck? I really hated it when my mother favortised my brother. I just absolutely loathed her.

My step-dad Bruce bounded in through the front door. I hated him even more.
“Mom, do I have to come on this cruise thing?” I asked.
“Yes. You’re coming whether you like it or not. You’re coming to spend time with your actual family instead of strumming away on that ruddy guitar. You’d have thought that guitar had brought you up, not me,” she remarked.
“Exactly. What good is a fucking guitar going to do for you when you’re older? Unless you have it when you’re being attacked in an alleyway! Then you could smash them over the head with it – it weighs enough!” laughed Bruce. My Mom joined in.

See? No credit whatsoever. I bet if it was my brother who was playing guitar, Mom and Bruce would be all over him.

I sat down on the sofa and ignored the snide remarks. They kept saying things that I didn’t really hear, but I caught the odd “guitar playing freak” or “good for nothing”. I was getting more and more angry by the minute, so I went back into my room and started playing.
I began to get into Good Riddance by Green Day – practically the best band of all time in my opinion.

Ten minutes later, Bruce knocked loudly on my door.
“Oi, stop playing that shit! It’s head-banging crap. C’mon, we’re going,” he commanded. My temperature was rising as I began to get really pissed off.
“Oh whatever,” I mumbled, and I carried on strumming away.
“Don’t say that to me girl, otherwise you’ll be back-packing your way back to Birmingham,” warned Bruce.
“Do I look like I give a shit?” I laughed ignorantly.
“Just get yourself in the car – now!” he commanded.
“Err… how about no?” I commented sarcastically.
“Libby?” Bruce called my mother. “Can you please get your bitch of a daughter in the car?”
My mother stumbled through to my room.
“Laura, get in the car now!” she shouted. I ignored her – again.
“For fucks sake, what’s the hold up?” Danny has come to see the commotion.
“Exactly – Danny’s right,” Mom sighed. “Now get in the car!”
She was going to start screaming in a minute. I got up off my bed with my guitar, and pushed them out of the doorway.
“I’m going out,” I said, even though I had no idea where I was going.
“Young lady, did you just hear what I said?” my Mom enquired dangerously.
“Not really. I don’t pay attention to idiots,” I remarked carelessly and flung the door open and went down the corridor. I was still playing my guitar.
I knew I was busted – and in big trouble. Though, at that moment I didn’t care. I was in New York City; I should be having the time of my life.

I didn’t have any clue where I was going, so I just punched the button for the lift. I began plucking the strings again to American Idiot, but as soon as the lift doors opened, my fingers fell to jelly as my guitar became soundless.

I can’t believe this was happening…

I shook my head to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.