Aaaaaaanyway. Here's part twelve. Enjoy, it's very therapeutic.
*****************************************************************
Part Twelve
Three hours later, I was still playing with every guitar I could get my hands on. I had only ever dreamed of playing half of these, they were all models I could never afford... ... But while they were readily available to me, I'd play them as long as I wanted to! I had played every song and guitar solo I could think of, that wasn't anything Green Day related, cause Billie Joe was lounging in the corner, watching me closely. It made me slightly nervous, but I did my best to ignore him. Mike was fiddling around, tuning one of Billie Joe's basses, and Tre was just sitting on the floor like a 6 year old, obviously bored that he didn't have any drums. I put my current Gibson back on the rack, and looked around for a bass I'd be willing to play. I stopped infront of a black one and picked it up.
"Do you play bass?" Mike asked, looking up from his tuning.
"Not really, my friend Lauren does though," I said, absentmindedly strumming the guitar. It sounded horrible. I grimaced and looked over at Billie Joe.
"You ever thought of tuning atleast half of these?" I asked him, starting to tune the strings until I was happy with them.
"Not really, there's just too many of them," he said.
"I'm bored. And hungry," Tre whined. I rolled my eyes at him.
"You're like a kindergartener," I said to him.
"Yeah, well, I can't help it that there's nothing to do, and no food in the house," Tre said.
"Why don't we order out?" I asked Billie Joe. He shrugged.
"If that's the only way we're gonna get food, I say we do it before Tre starts annoying us to no end," Billie Joe said, getting up.
"Hey! I wouldn't do that!" Tre said defiantly, still sitting on the floor and sipping his beer. It was his third bottle, and it was nearly empty.
"I guess some people just like to deny the truth," I muttered, following Billie Joe up the stairs.
"I heard that!" he shouted, getting off the floor and running up the stairs after me. I ran around Billie Joe, into the kitchen, around the hallway, and up the stairs. I kept a carry out menu from my favorite Chinese place in my bag. Once in my room, I dug through the mess, found it, and began to head back down the stairs. I saw something glinting in the light on the dresser.
I walked over and lifted the silver key up by it’s chain. That’s funny, I thought I had put it in my pocket. I shrugged and stuffed it back into my front pocket, and ran down the stairs again.
I nearly collided with Tre in the kitchen, who was leaning into the fridge and producing more bottles of beer. Billie Joe looked hopefully at them.
“Nope, none for you,” I said, grinning. Adrienne had specifically told me not to let Billie Joe have any alcohol. The doctors had advised against it.
“Why? It shouldn’t have anything to do with my arm. It could only dull the pain!” he said fiercely. He reached for a bottle, and was about to open it when I pulled out my cell phone.
“You know… … I do have Adrienne on speed dial,” I said, smirking at his frozen expression.
“Well, she’s got you there,” said Mike, “You know how angry Adrienne can get.”
Billie Joe grumbled and instead handed the beer to Mike.
“Do you want one?” Tre asked pulling another out of the fridge.
“Have you lost your mind completely? I’m only fourteen! And the last time I checked, that legal drinking age was 21,” I said, leafing through the menu.
“Oh. Well, that has never stopped me before,” he said.
“Well I’m not you,” I said, trying to find something on the menu I hadn’t tried. Tre scowled at me, but I ignored him.
“Here, find something you like. Delivery is free,” I said, throwing the menu to Mike. He caught it, and began looking through it. Tre peered over his shoulder, looking for something as well. Billie Joe found something too, and after everyone had decided what they wanted, he called in our order.
Half an hour later, the food came. We all sat down at the table, talking. I had the funnest time trying to teach Tre how to use chopsticks, but I suppose he preferred drumsticks, because he kept dropping them.
“You’re hopeless,” I sighed.
“Thanks for having the utmost confidence in me,” he said. My phone rang. I picked it the shocking lime green, and saw ‘Diana’ flashing on the screen. I groaned and answered her call.
“How many times a day do you have to call me?” I asked, sitting back down at the table.
“As many as I feel like,” she said happily. I rolled my eyes but smiled.
“Anyway, we didn’t get to finish our conversation about your mom,” she said, less cheerfully.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said.
“Well, what did she say??” she asked.
“Nothing much… … But she did leave me a key,” I said, pulling it out of my pocket and dangling it in the middle of the table. Mike took it and looked at interestedly.
“Really? Do you know what it’s to?” Diana asked excitedly.
“Yeah, it says Berkely Storage, Box #3991,” I said, eating more of my chicken.
“Cool! This is like a treasure hunt!” she said, laughing.
“No it’s not. It probably only has some boring papers and whatnot in it,” I said. She sighed. I stared at my can of coke thoughtfully. What WAS in that box?
“Have you heard from Lauren lately?” I asked her, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, she nearly lost her head when I told her about the concert,” she said. I laughed, not surprised. Lauren was the biggest MCR fan out of us three, I always preferred Green Day.
“What have you been up to?” I asked.
“Nothing much, not babysitting any rock stars anyway,” she said. I smiled slightly, very glad that none of the guys could hear her.
“Oh! But I did break one of my drums!” she said, almost happily.
“You broke one of your drums??” I asked incredulously. Her drums were everything to her.
“And I accidentally cracked one of the cymbals!” she said, definitely happy.
“How in the world did you crack a cymbal?!” I asked, definitely confused. The three around me looked at me curiously.
“Weeeeeeell, I put my foot through the drum, and chucked the cymbal out of my bedroom window while my parents were gone,” she said in a sing song voice. My jaw dropped.
“And WHY are you happy about this??”
“Because now I’m gonna get a brand new set!” she laughed. I just shook my head.
“Okay, then. Whatever you say,” I said.
“Oh, I gotta go. Must tell mom what kind of drums I want! Bye!” she said.
“Alright. Bye,” and she hung up. I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it… … I have some crazy friends.
“You’re friend broke her drum set? How did she do that?” Billie Joe asked.
“Put her foot through one of them, and threw a cymbal out of her bedroom window, as I piece it together,” I said. There was silence for a minute.
“Sounds like fun!” Tre said. I laughed.
“She did it on purpose. She wants a new set,” I told them.
“Okay, but couldn’t she just have asked her parents?” Mike asked. I made a face at him.
“Nope. This is Diana we’re talking about,” I said simply. I finished my food and put the plate in the sink. I sat back down at the table.
“What are you gonna do about the storage box?” Billie Joe asked, as Mike handed the key back to me.
“I dunno. I guess I’ll just see what’s in it, but that’s all. Maybe thousands of dollars so I can afford to go to that music school on the east coast,” I said, hopefully. I put the key back in my pocket and massaged my fingers. They hurt after playing for so long.
“Ow,” I muttered, as I pressed on my left hand. Billie Joe smiled.
“You play really well. I was surprised,” he said, putting his plate in the sink as well.
“What? You thought I was gonna suck?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“Well, no. But I didn’t expect you to be that good either. How long have you been playing?” Billie Joe asked, sitting back down.
I tried to think. How long had I been playing? Ummm… … let’s see, now.
“About three years?” I said, estimating. I wasn’t exactly sure.
“Not bad,” he said. I shrugged and drank more of my coke.
“I met Diana in 3rd grade. I started playing guitar in 5th… … And she got her drums soon after. We met Lauren in 6th grade after she moved from Florida, and she already played bass when we met her… … … And then everything went from there. We’re going to high school now… …,” I said absentmindedly, thinking about my two best friends. Man, we had done a lot of shit together now that I thought about it… …
We sat in silence for a minute, the only sound was the tick tock of the neon blue clock on the wall. I stood up and stretched.
“I’m going to bed,” I said, “See ya tomorrow.”
“Good night.”
“’Night.”
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Tre added.
“Yeah, you in the ass,” I said, but he didn’t hear me, or else he was too drunk. I couldn’t tell.
**************************************************************
Sorry nothing too interesting happened. But it was fun to write, so
! Don’t worry, next part will be more dramatic.