Chapter 6: I'm Just Going To Fucking Swear A Lot

Billie's POV

"Are you listening to me young man? You have to start applying yourself otherwise there is no way you are going to be able to graduate. Mr Armstrong, are you listening?"

I wasn't. To be completely honest, I was staring at a little spider that was spinning its web in the corner of Principal Reynold's office. I thought about whether it cared if it was up so high. What would happen if it fell? How much simpler would it be if I was a little black spider, spinning my web and not worrying about failing school and people killing each other and all the pretty fucking pathetic problems that all teenagers have, like a broken string on a guitar or the school dance or doing drugs or having no future. So when he asked what I was planning to do with my life, I didn't answer because I wasn't listening. I was too damn concerned about that spider.

"God, I'm never going to get through to you. I just hope you know that one day you're going to regret not working hard enough. You can go, and I don't want to hear any more of these marijuana-selling rumours. Start the year off right son."

I didn't want to look at him as I left.

I was expecting to be greeted by the only two people in the world who would care if I died, but my best friends seemed to be preoccupied by having a rather loud argument in their seats outside of the principal's office.

"What the fuck? When did YOU meet her?"

"Last night at Chuck's!"

"Well so did I!"

"What are you shitheads having a cat-fight over? Don't stop, it's kinda hot." I had to smile, slumping down in between the feuding pair. Mike sighed and rolled his eyes, taking a breath to begin to explain but then he and Tré were summoned inside the office for their own disappointed lecture, so the conversation was dropped.

We were behind the grandstands, spending math getting high off our asses, when it rose again.

"So what did the warden have to say?" I asked, taking a drag of our shared joint, since the rest of our substance had been confiscated earlier that morning.

"All that about self-image and drugs are bad and reputation. The usual horse shit." Mike shrugged, kicking the air from his slouched spot on the grass.

"And so what the hell were you two fighting about?"

Tre snapped into attention from his position of lying flat on his back and smiling vacantly at the sky.

"We both met the same girl last night and we don't know who has dibs."

"This is about some girl?" I laughed in disbelief, watching the two of them blush.

"She wasn't just some girl..." Mike began, eyes downcast but my scoff cut him off.

"Oh god save me the bullshit. You both are talking from your damn dicks."

Tre shrugged in somewhat agreement, taking the joint I handed him.

"Yeah but Bill, she was really something. If you would have met her you would have got where we're coming from."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised and deeply disturbed by the fact that I'd never heard him say anything more serious in the entire time I had known him.

"I don't know. I don't really get this whole falling in love thing. I mean, it just seems like a great way to get screwed over."

"Correction, it's the best way to get screwed my sexually frustrated friend."

And the wind-up monkey on crack was back to his usual self.

I decided that I should probably go to English, as it was one of the few subjects (that and music, occasionally gym) that I didn't feel like faking a seizure to get out of. I went by the back-school dumpsters for quick smoke, which is when I realised that my usual box of cigarettes and lighter were absent from my jean pocket. And then The Girl on The Roof lit up the back of my eyes.

Annabel, Annabel No-Last-Name. I felt myself smile as I replayed last night, watched her crawl across the dark-hooded roof, swearing and explaining she was trying to run away. Annabel The Drunken Disaster. The way she talked about the stars and how she wanted to eat pizza until she was ridiculously fat and how she hated Rodeo as much as I did. Perched on the handlebars of my bicycle, eyes smiling in the bright night. God her eyes, sapphire eyes that glowed in the darkness. Was she here right now? Did she feel like blowing her brains out yet?

I snapped out of my strange daze by the bell to mark the beginning of class, and the image of my late-night adventures with the new girl in town disappeared as I hurried to next period.

Mr Evans was mildly surprised to see me take a seat, but I assured him silently not to expect much by refusing pulling out a work-book. Instead, I got out my notebook, where I scrawled down all my lyrics in. I forgot to mention that. Well, I mean I forgot to mention a lot of things, (most of that was intentional), but one thing I could blabber on and on about is music. I live and breathe music. It feeds my soul, it pumps through my veins and keeps me going. I know that sounds really corny, but it really does. It's the only thing that I can really see myself doing in 5 or 10 years. It's my passion. But it's funny, because when I said that to people like Principal Reynolds (I would also say my mom, but that would be a lie because she worked too much to notice) they said that I should try pursuing something else. Nobody takes musicians seriously until you're a fucking superstar.

Anyway, as usual, Mr Evans said nothing; it wasn't really Shakespeare, but hey, it was something.

I didn't look up as i heard the rest of the class meander in, and I didn't stir as I felt someone pull up the chair next to me.

Mr Evans began to start about something to do with some dead author that was profoundly philosophical and intelligent by pointing out how flawed our society is. I don't get that. I mean, come on, I could easily groan and grieve about how fucked up we all are. I already do that. I don't get a goddamn medal. People just call that complaining when you're not an academic with a PhD in life.

God I sound really angsty. I swear I'm really not like that all the time, but on this particular day I was feeling that uncomfortable grey sludge settle on my stomach that all teenagers recognise, that feeling of "what is the point of all this?"

And so I sat, scrawling in my nearly illegible hand:

I sit in the state of a daydream

With all of your words flying over my head

Even more time gets wasted

In a daze

Which basically described how this day was treating me.

"Sorry, can I borrow a pen?"

I glanced over to the person sitting beside me, smiling slightly at the familiar face, which is always usual when you live in a place like Rodeo.

"Sure Mona." I dug into the bottom of my bag and handed her a ballpoint, and she thanked me before going back to her work.

She yawned.

"Late night?"

"Yeah, went to Chuck's last night. Were you there? I didn't see you."

"Nah, sat it out." Was a better thing to say, I thought, than "oh yeah I was there, but then I suffered a severe anxiety attack and spent the whole party on the roof until I had to ride a drunk girl home on my bike."

"How was your summer? Play any gigs?"

"Just at Rod's Hickory Pit. Yours?"

"Spent it with my new neighbour."

"You have a new neighbour?" (Annabel In The Sky With Diamonds maybe?)

"Yeah, didn't you hear? At the beginning of summer a family moved in and their kid is..."

But then Mr Evans shushed us, and we didn't talk for the rest of the class.

The rest of the day went by as it usually would, a blur of crowded hallways and disapproving stares and feeling particularly invisible. I was walking to my bike, head in my notebook when I slammed, forehead to forehead, with the figure in front of me. We both yelled out in pain and shock and stumbled back a bit, and I took a moment to asses the damage before scanning the ground for my book that I had dropped on impact.

"Oh god, I'm sorry I..." I looked up when I realised the voice was laced with tears, and after lying my eyes on the damp face in front of me the breath was knocked straight out of my lungs.

Oh fate just loves fucking with me.

A/N Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Life has been tough etc. Anyway, I hoped you liked this chapter. It took me a bit of effort to write because I didn't really know how to write Billie but yeah I'll do more of his perspective down the track.