A Student/Teacher Relationship

Doesn't he age? I laid down on my bed, holding last year's yearbook. The year younger Billie Joe's smirk stared up at me from the black and white page. I couldn't help it. All of the sudden I had an urge to look at him even if it's not in person. Except for his hair being a little shorter, he looked exactly the same.

"Damn you. Why do you have to be so perfect?" Shit, no, never mind. I slammed the book closed and buried my head in my hands. "How many times do I have to tell you? Get over it. Move on. Aw crap I'm talking to myself. Wonderful-shit I'm still talking to myself. Oh well it was only a matter of time." A single knock and the opening of my door, Rachel stuck her head into my room.

"Hey are you going to Hawkfest? If so I'm leaving in a couple minutes."

"Uhhh..." My eyes drifted to the clock. 6:23 PM. The event could be a good way to make amends with my friends and the ritual fireworks at 9 could put a perk in my step a little. "Yeah sure, give me a minute." I got off my bed and reached for makeup to do touch ups.

"K, I'll be in the car." She disappeared from the doorway. Realizing I had enough eyeliner on to do the Japanese Grudge boy proud, refreshing the fading layer of lipstick seemed sufficient. I smacked my lips together and carefully scrutinized the person staring back at me. If it was at all possible and if I was faced with the offer to sell my image, I would shout "hell yeah to the highest bidder!" Or I could be generous (desparate) and just give it away.

"Good luck," I sighed and flipped off the light switch.

To clarify, Hawkfest is a traditional party BHS hosts in the school parking lot at the beginning of homecoming week. Select clubs provide food and game booths at dirt cheap prices compared to today's economy. I went my freshmen year (lame) and skipped it sophomore. My ex friends will be there for the booze the seniors always sneak in. Oh yeah they're such bad asses! (Sarcasm). But since school was so aggravating today, I could get some closure with a drink... Or 2 or 3. Maybe I'll decide as I go.

"I'll meet you back here after the fireworks." Rachel walked off to the high school festivities leaving me hiding beside the car. The overwhelming, awkward loneliness I usually develop at every social event briefly made me lose sight of my goals. I better get started.

Approaching crowds of people taking part in different activities: a dunk tank, dancing, whip crème pie battlefield, other disturbing games; I immediately saw Katie's bright red hair and one by one, more of my friends. All holding red party cups probably filled with vodka or Jack, they were savoring the humiliation of hated teachers being dropped in ice cold water.

"Hey." I stopped and waited for a reply behind them at the dunk tank. Nick was the first to acknowledge my ballsiness, but I don't care much to get his attention. He tapped on Katie's shoulder, distracting her from the satisfaction of watching Mr. Ilich (the 1st "hot" gym teacher BHS has seen) get soaked. I had him last year. He is pretty cute in a trashed frat boy way; shit for brains, but built just the same. It bugs me when attractive people know they're good looking, but how could he not when a bunch of giggling school girls take pictures with their camera phones? Who cares he may be cute, but Billie Joe is gorgeous.

"Hey, what's going on?" Katie took a sip from her drink.

"Can I talk to you guys for a second?" I motioned at everyone in the "anti-me" gang. They all exchanged looks between each other until they came to a united shrug. "Alright, ummm... I hate this. I'm sorry if I was being selfish. It won't happen again. Now can I please have my friends back?" I hope my eyes convey a sense of pleading because that's what I was going for, not that I'm trying to fake desperation. While they're getting past the shock I was of admitting I was wrong and mulling my proposal over, my vision wandered to the rest of the lot. Several seniors with huge grins on their faces giving signature red cups to some freshmen running the SODA club booth will be amusing to watch later. What in the world? Billie Joe? Here? No... Really?

"Do you promise?" Josh poked his head in between Nick and Katie with a sheepish grin. Billie Joe stood almost attached to the side wall of the school chugging a senior cocktail. That reminds me I have to get one.

"You promise?" Katie pushed me while everyone that mattered peaked over her shoulder to hear my sincerity.

"No I'm just fucking with you. Yeah!"

"Ok you're forgiven." She rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Aw thanks." Woo hoo got my friends!... That's it? That's as high as my maximum level of happiness goes? I should be ecstatic. You don't have much if you don't have your friends, but why do I still feel so empty? For once in awhile I'm doing the right thing, nothing to be guilty of. Dammit stop catching my eye!

"-So a movie this weekend?" one of my friends said. I'm not really paying any attention.

"Uh sure yeah." I nodded half heartedly trying to not look at Billie Joe. I tried not to look so hard that I didn't see Ben coming towards him. One second Billie Joe is finishing off his drink, the next he's on the ground with Ben standing over him with a tightly balled fist. Obnoxious yells, wailing "FIGHT!" sounded from all around.

"Oh my god." I joined the waves of students rushing to the forming crowd surrounding Billie Joe and Ben.

"Becky it's just a stupid fight!" I head Katie call behind me. I ignored her and kept running. I couldn't stand there knowing he was hurt. Pushing through layers of spectators, I received resistance which is completely understandable but move the fuck out of the way! Breaking through the final human wall, the scene was stunning and horrendous. Billie Joe sat awkwardly on the pavement supporting himself with one arm while the other nursed his bloody nose. And Ben was held back by several teachers. His behavior brought me back to that dreadful night. Someone help Billie Joe!...Anyone? My eyes searched for any good samaritans, but everyone was too busy voicing their opinions. Fine I'll do it.

"Are you okay?" I knelt down beside Billie Joe, resting my hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah." He nasally gasped since he plugged his nose to stop the blood.

"Come on, let's go clean ya up." I slightly grunted trying to get him off the ground. "Little help?"

"Sorry." He stood up with wobbly legs.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I searched his vacant expression looking for a trace of the real Billie Joe. I'm going to go ahead and blame the alcohol and blow to the skull for the slowness and passive attitude.

"How kind of you. Thank you, but I can take it from here." Mrs. Prince, one of the ongoing list of deans, reached for his other arm.

"No, I can take care of him." My grip tightened. "Shouldn't you be more concerned about him?" I motioned at Ben with his blood shot eyes and foaming at the mouth. She looked Ben over and sized up the situation which is fairly huge. A student punching a teacher in the school parking lot is what one would call a valid distraction. Her grasp upon his arm loosened and she withdrew her whole body a foot away.

"Mr.-Armstrong- do-you-mind-if-she-takes-you-in-side?" Damn he's not deaf. He nodded and waved her off. Feeling offended from being dismissed, she trailed away to tend to the matter of Benjamin. What the hell was that all about being one of them. Walking through the parting crowd, shouts of encouragement rang out.

"Mr. Armstrong rocks!"

"We love you!" and other similar praise forced my now rosey cheeks. I had no idea I was in the presence of a god. As we came upon the side doors, a couple of students I recognized from fifth period sprung to assist us in opening them.

"Thanks," I muttered as we passed by. I'm afraid of people questioning my motives other than being a compassionate person (Ben knows), but they can think whatever they want. I don't even know what possessed me to help so quickly. I was torn between going into the boys' or girls' bathroom. The girl's was always a mess: paper towels filled the sinks, unflushed toilets, mysterious puddles, and whatever disgusting habits a grotesque girl can think of. If I think you need a bio-hazard suit to venture in there, I can't imagine how much more unsanitary the boys' restroom must be. I shudder to think.

"Where are we going?" Billie Joe mumbled lifting his head up. Think. Where in this forsaken school that isn't completely contaminated? Simple, no where. I wish he'd support himself a little more. He's starting to get heavy. To my immediate right down a small hall, sat the music department. The door of the choir room was open, but even if it was shut, it would be unlocked. Mrs. Rupert didn't like "depriving us of music." This was my third year straight in chorus, each time building myself up to get into Acapella which is at the top of BHS's music hierarchy. At this point I'm so burnt out by it, I could care less if I ever make it. But I've worked so hard and gotten to where I'm at now, might as well stick it out.

"Over here." We crept down the hall into the giant room with over 50 chairs positioned in rows in a wide half circle accompanied by a piano.

"Why are we in here?" He looked about the room.

"It's just somewhere to sit you so I can go get something to wash off the blood. It'll be quicker that way." Without hesitation, he sunk into the end chair in the first row. I watched how he constantly blinked his eyes open and shook his head to wake up. "How many drinks did you have?"

"...2."

"Only 2?"

"...8ish."

"Wow ok, I'll be right back. You- try to sober up or something." And with that I walked back into the main art hall and made the semi long trip to the closest restrooms. The music classes must be a burden to the school, because they're at the farthest end of the school, a hall all its own, and it's only on the first floor. No levels above and obviously below.

"Just get in, get out." I motivated myself as I stood outside the girl's restroom. I'm such a germaphobe when it comes to public restrooms. Sure I go in there sometimes to get away and be alone, but I only stand. Never touch anything except the lock, but then I'll vigorously wash my hands afterwards. "1-2-...3." With eyes squinted half open, I dashed inside, grabbed what I needed, and ran back out. "Gross." I'm still wondering why I'm doing this. I should be outside making a complete ass out of myself through the consumption of alcohol with my friends, but alas... Guilt and unrequited love outweighs friendship in a sad, selfish way.

Where the hell is he? I arrived back to a once again empty choir room. Splendid, great.

"Billie Joe?" I called at normal tone of voice. A far off noise seeped into my eardrums. Following what I just realized to be music playing (a guitar to be exact), I ended up on the other side of the tightly knitted department. For a few moments I simply stood outside the cracked open door the majestic chords flowed out of just listening, absorbing the melody, and taking note of the refreshing perfection of it all. I didn't dare on rushing in to see who owned the ingenious mind and nimble fingers. They might stop. My way of encouragement to continue would be ineffective, because I don't know how to compliment people. I try, it's hard. Call it a birth defect or a self-enthused tumor, but I can never seem to say the right words... Aw fuck it. I must know. Pushing the door open...

"Billie?" He abruptly stopped playing and looked up at my surprise.

"Hey."

"I didn't know you could play." I stepped inside and pushed the door to. Seeing him sitting there with a guitar, did it just get 10 times hotter in here? It's me isn't it? Damn.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me." He shrugged and strummed it. Why does he have to play the guitar? And well? He's torturing me on purpose. Let's put our minds in the gutter for a brief moment if it isn't there already. What female isn't eventually strongly attracted to the bad boy/musician types? It's just as irresistible when they have an extended penis; acoustic or electric. It can go for any instrument, whatever floats your boat, but the clarinet might be a bit awkward if you aren't into that.

"True. Sorry, but could I just wipe that up real quick or are you planning on keeping a crimson mustache?"

"Hmm I think I might. It's rather becoming don'tcha think?"

"Yeah...No." I strolled over to him and with one simple swipe, the blood was transferred from his nose to the damp paper towel.

"Thanks." He used his sleeve to wipe away the excess moisture.

"Oh you better be, I risked my life going to into the girl's bathroom and actually touching things in there." A grin of comfort and maybe slight flirtation spread across my face as I plopped down in the chair beside him.

"No, thanks for everything. Like taking me in here, helping with this," he gestured at his unbroken nose. "And for actually talking to me." Those words made me feel awful and yet special. Change the subject.

"You're welcome. So why did Ben punch you?"

"Umm I don't know. His time of the month maybe?"

"Ha, ha possibly. But seriously, something must have been said or did-"

"Becky, why do you want him?" He stared deeply into my eyes. Him giving me the notion that I chose for things to be this way was depressing.

"I never said I wanted him."

"Do you know he's still with that other girl?"

"Yes as a matter of fact, I do." Stupid hair get out of my face! "I found out when I went shopping the other day. I was going to kick his ass for it today, but he wasn't around."

"Because I beat you to it," Billie Joe muttered under his breath.

"Come again?"

"Nothing." His gaze pled innocence. Without warning, he launched into another unfamiliar melody. Argh too sexy-dammit act my age! 16? Nah I would have jumped him already. I need a drink. I stood up, cutting his solo short.

"I'm going to get back to the fest. Get a drink or something."

"There's hours of it left."

"I have to go now."

"Why?" He tilted his head much like a puppy dog would.

"Because if I stay, I know I'll do something I'll regret." Billie Joe sat the guitar down and rose up very close to me.

He leaned in beside my ear. "Like what?"

The heat from his words sent a shockwave all through me. Tease! Knows exactly what he's doing. Eagerness and spontaneity brought September memories back to life. For the moment fuck Ben, (sorry to say) fuck Adrienne, fuck everyone else, and fuck me. Holy shit do I mean literally? My conscious has tourettes. Oh fuck that too. Without anymore mind babbling, I pressed Billie Joe's lips to mine and let our first kiss relive itself. Remembering my death of only a week or so ago, it felt like new blood was pumped into my veins and I was finally resurrected.