Post by suicideXmakeover on Jul 25, 2005 14:04:09 GMT -5
PART 11
"Do you guys want to get ice cream?" Dad asked as we drove out of the parking lot.
"Ice cream?" I blinked at him. I had kind of assumed that the reason I hadn't been able to stay longer was because he didn't want me out that late (although it was only about 11:30, which wasn't all that late). But now he wanted to go out and have ice cream?
"Whatever you guys want to do is fine," Jake said from the back seat. I turned around and looked at him. He was staring in awe at his shirt. Even if Tre hadn't signed his shirt, he was still happy.
"What do you think, Meghan? Do you want ice cream?"
"Only if it's Tre flavored," I mumbled.
"What?"
"Nothing," I sighed. "I don't care."
"Ice cream it is, then!" Dad exclaimed. He was in this very cheerful mood, something that only made me more pissed off at him. This was one of the few times in my life that I felt like I hated my father.
We arrived at the ice cream place (which was surprisingly still open) and headed inside. Dad spent about ten minutes deciding what he wanted. I simply got a mint chocolate chip cone, and Jake got a vanilla shake. We sat in silence, eating our ice cream. Suddenly the little bell above the door tinkered, signifying that someone had entered the ice cream shop. My back was to the door, and I didn't bother to turn around. That's when I heard some voices.
"This has got to be your stupidest idea ever."
"No, I think that trying to fly was his stupidest idea ever."
"Wait, no, I'm sure he's had stupider."
A third voice chimed in. "Why is this stupid? I wanted ice cream. And then I want to go home. I'm beat."
I recognized the voice, but refused to believe it. I paused, listening some more.
The third voice spoke again. "If you want to go to a party so fucking bad, Billie, then go to a party. We don't all have to go everywhere together."
I spun around. Sure enough, there was Green Day. Mike was examining the list of special flavors on the counter. Billie was sighing and leaning against a table, looking bored. Tre was just staring at Billie with a "you suck" kind of expression on his face.
"Oh my God," I whispered.
"What?" Jake asked, then turned around and followed my gaze. "Holy..."
"What?" my dad asked, staring at the guys.
"Dad," I whispered. "That's Green Day!"
"Really?" He looked at the guys again. "They wear eyeliner?"
"Yes," I said.
"Which one is the one you like so much?" he questioned. God, my dad was so loud. I turned and looked at the guys. My dad's big mouth had attracted their attention.
"Hey! Your name's Meg, right?" Billie asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"I autographed her CD!" he informed the other two.
"Hey, so did I," Mike commented.
"I didn't," Tre said, looking rather hurt. "Why didn't I get to?"
"Because she had to leave," Dad informed him. God, I thought. Please stop talking to Tre, Dad.
"I see," Tre nodded, walking over to our table. "She would've rather had ice cream than meet me, huh?"
I blushed 2,000 shades of pink.
"Dad, shut up," I whispered.
"Well, nice to meet you, Meg," Tre said, offering his hand. I shook it.
"Nice to meet you, too," I said, almost choking the words out.
"Your ice cream is melting," Mike pointed out.
"Yeah, well," I mumbled, grabbing a napkin and wiping at the minty chocolate goo that was starting to engulf my left hand.
"Let me get you another napkin," Billie said, approaching the counter.
"Mind if we join you?" Tre asked.
"Not at all," I said, giving me father another warning glance as Tre pushed another table up against ours and gather some chairs.
"I'm going to get my ice cream. I'll be right back," he said. I nodded.
Oh my God. Mint chocolate chip ice cream and Green Day. Could this get any better?
"Do you guys want to get ice cream?" Dad asked as we drove out of the parking lot.
"Ice cream?" I blinked at him. I had kind of assumed that the reason I hadn't been able to stay longer was because he didn't want me out that late (although it was only about 11:30, which wasn't all that late). But now he wanted to go out and have ice cream?
"Whatever you guys want to do is fine," Jake said from the back seat. I turned around and looked at him. He was staring in awe at his shirt. Even if Tre hadn't signed his shirt, he was still happy.
"What do you think, Meghan? Do you want ice cream?"
"Only if it's Tre flavored," I mumbled.
"What?"
"Nothing," I sighed. "I don't care."
"Ice cream it is, then!" Dad exclaimed. He was in this very cheerful mood, something that only made me more pissed off at him. This was one of the few times in my life that I felt like I hated my father.
We arrived at the ice cream place (which was surprisingly still open) and headed inside. Dad spent about ten minutes deciding what he wanted. I simply got a mint chocolate chip cone, and Jake got a vanilla shake. We sat in silence, eating our ice cream. Suddenly the little bell above the door tinkered, signifying that someone had entered the ice cream shop. My back was to the door, and I didn't bother to turn around. That's when I heard some voices.
"This has got to be your stupidest idea ever."
"No, I think that trying to fly was his stupidest idea ever."
"Wait, no, I'm sure he's had stupider."
A third voice chimed in. "Why is this stupid? I wanted ice cream. And then I want to go home. I'm beat."
I recognized the voice, but refused to believe it. I paused, listening some more.
The third voice spoke again. "If you want to go to a party so fucking bad, Billie, then go to a party. We don't all have to go everywhere together."
I spun around. Sure enough, there was Green Day. Mike was examining the list of special flavors on the counter. Billie was sighing and leaning against a table, looking bored. Tre was just staring at Billie with a "you suck" kind of expression on his face.
"Oh my God," I whispered.
"What?" Jake asked, then turned around and followed my gaze. "Holy..."
"What?" my dad asked, staring at the guys.
"Dad," I whispered. "That's Green Day!"
"Really?" He looked at the guys again. "They wear eyeliner?"
"Yes," I said.
"Which one is the one you like so much?" he questioned. God, my dad was so loud. I turned and looked at the guys. My dad's big mouth had attracted their attention.
"Hey! Your name's Meg, right?" Billie asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"I autographed her CD!" he informed the other two.
"Hey, so did I," Mike commented.
"I didn't," Tre said, looking rather hurt. "Why didn't I get to?"
"Because she had to leave," Dad informed him. God, I thought. Please stop talking to Tre, Dad.
"I see," Tre nodded, walking over to our table. "She would've rather had ice cream than meet me, huh?"
I blushed 2,000 shades of pink.
"Dad, shut up," I whispered.
"Well, nice to meet you, Meg," Tre said, offering his hand. I shook it.
"Nice to meet you, too," I said, almost choking the words out.
"Your ice cream is melting," Mike pointed out.
"Yeah, well," I mumbled, grabbing a napkin and wiping at the minty chocolate goo that was starting to engulf my left hand.
"Let me get you another napkin," Billie said, approaching the counter.
"Mind if we join you?" Tre asked.
"Not at all," I said, giving me father another warning glance as Tre pushed another table up against ours and gather some chairs.
"I'm going to get my ice cream. I'll be right back," he said. I nodded.
Oh my God. Mint chocolate chip ice cream and Green Day. Could this get any better?