Growing Up With Bad Boys

Chapter One

"Because I'm so scared of him now," I mock. "You're just a... bitch of a mother!" I say finally and slam the door on my way out.

At this point, I'm in tears. Not because I regret anything I said, but saying to your own mother that she is a bitch and take in the fact that I really mean it. Most would say its impossible to mean it when you say you hate your parents, but I believe some people truly can. Heather does. Her dad is terrifying.

When her mom passed away when Heather was about five years old, her dad began drinking quite heavily. He was fired from his job. Since there was no income, he sold all of her mom's personal belongings, Heather's bed, practically everything from her bedroom. Coming home from late nights out at the bar, he would wake Heather up while she was sleeping on the couch, yelling and raging on her. One time it got so severe that he punched Heather in the face, and another time cut her with a broken beer bottle, yet somehow she forgives him. She never told anyone about it because she didn't want to have to be put in foster care.

At times, Heather moves in with Christie for a couple of days. Christie's mom, Mrs. Coleman, usually suspects something, but Heather never speaks up about it. She doesn't feel it's something she needs to talk about because aside all of the drunken chaos her father starts, he's pretty careless on where the girl goes. Heather basically has no rules or curfews unless he's low on booze and demands her to run to the store since he lost his license. He still lives just down the street from me, though I hardly ever see him unless he's the one booking it down to the liquor store, or finding women to hook up with. I'm really not sure how the man pays the property taxes or bills.

It makes me feel lucky I don't have to go through with that. It'd be bizarre not having many rules, or someone constantly harping on you, but it would also be grand in a sense.

As I walk down the street, my heart begins to beat loudly like a heavy drum. What would we do? Hang out at his house? Go for a walk? These questions irritate me. I wish I wasn't the worrisome girl that I am. The thing is, in our teenage years, we've never hung out, just the two of us.

I take a sigh and walk the rest of fifteen minutes to his grandmother's house behind the deli shop until I'm standing at the front door. With a breath of encouragement, I knock and wait for someone to open up.

I'm met face to face with an older lady possibly in her sixties. A few wrinkles here and there, but she looks quite young. Younger than my grandmother. She has a friendly smile formed on her lips. "Hello, what can I do for you?"

"Hello, ma'am, is William there?" I ask politely.

"Yes, he's in his room. Who are you, sweetie? I didn't know William had a girlfriend. You're a very pretty girl."

My mouth drops open and I chuckle at her comment. "Oh no, no, no! You must be mistaken. Will and I are only good friends."

She laughs lightly. "Sorry, honey! Yes, come right in. He might have the door closed, but go right in. It's the last door on the right."

"Thank you." I smile and enter.

The house isn't anything fancy at all. Very old style and wood furniture everywhere. Nothing has been updated since the forties, I'll bet. Some framed pictures hang on the wall, a few of William's mother, Sharon, and possibly his grandfather.

Before I knock lightly on William's door, I hear a piano playing a few notes and then gradually turning into a song. It's an Elton John song. Levon, one of my favourite Elton John songs.

Suddenly, it stops and I hear footsteps coming towards me on the other side. My heart stops. Crap.

The door opens and William jumps back in surprise. "What the hell!" he shouts, making me flinch and step back. "Woah, Jamie, never thought you'd come by."

"Well, can't just pretend I don't know you anymore, right?" I chuckle.

"Here, come in." Abruptly, he pulls me into his bedroom and shuts the door.

I never thought his room would look so much similar to an artists. Back at his old place, his room looked so prim and proper. There is a mattress on the floor where he must, uncomfortably, sleep. The fact that there are so many drawings and paintings scattered on the floor has me surprised. I hadn't known William to be so artistic, at least, he never showed it. Lastly, there's a black piano and some sheet music on the stand.

"Quite a change," I say. "How do you feel about living here now?"

He shrugs. "I don't care, my parents fucking suck anyway. At least now I can walk outta the house without being bombarded by threats and crap about how my hair looks. Just retarded."

"I'm sorry all this had to happen."

William scoffs. "It's not your fault. What can you do though, right? Anyway, I'm fine. Probably meeting up with Izzy later today. He's gonna introduce me to some of his friends who play instruments."

My eyes widen. "Wow, Will, that's pretty cool. I'd like to see if what you guys do can put you on the top. Show them your music ability."

A wall closes off inside him, like he's backing off or something. He must be nervous about meeting them. He's never been the outgoing type anyway, though he sees himself being onstage as a performer. In a sense, that's exactly how I feel. I want to be a musician as well, but I'm so closed off about it. I'm not the extremely outgoing one either.

"Hey, I never said we were going to be a band or anything. I'm just going to meet them. We'll possibly get together and play. Of course I'll be on the piano. I'm not sure how we can do it. Hopefully one of them has a keyboard or piano because I ain't hauling this thing out of this house."

"True."

It's silent for a minute, almost a painfully awkward silence. In the whole ten and more years I've known him, we've rarely ever had a moment like this. Why is he not saying any more? He's usually rambling once you get him on a conversation.

"While you're here, do you maybe want to go for a run or something?" I ask shyly. "You know, together?"

William smiles. "Sure, that sounds cool. I'm not sure why we didn't think of this sooner. I mean, we were on the cross country team. It would make sense if we did it during that time."

"Are you doing it this year?"

"Probably not."

"Man, why not? You were such a good run buddy."

He chuckles. "What else do you want me to do? Practise music with you too?"

A part of my brain flips the inspiration switch and I don't even take his suggestion as a joke. I actually would very much like it if he would practise with me.

I put on a sly smirk. "Um, actually... That interests me very much."

"It strikes me too. You on guitar and me on piano. What a duet."

A duet equals two. Two is a couple. My obsessive mind completely goes off and believes this might just be a sign....