My Life With Billie Joe Armstrong

Chapter 1

I sat in my room, strumming my guitar softly. I loved it so much, as much as I hated it. Billie had bought me it. I wasn't aloud to like it. I wouldn't let myself like it. But I couldn't resist having a strum on it every now and then. I slid it under my bed as I heard feet go up the stairs, and I knew straight away it was Billie, because he runs up the stairs like a fucking elephant. What does Mom see in him?

My mom was beautiful, she had long caramel hair, which never wasn't straight, and chocolate eyes. She had the perfect figure, and a great sense of humour. 

She deserved so much better then Billie Joe Armstrong. I know, I was as horrified as you were when she came home with him. I knew him kinda, my friends liked Green Day. And they still do, so it's an issue when they come over. They go all girlie and ridiculous, and say 

"Hi Billie..." and give a stupid smile. He's nice to them though. He's nice to everyone in our house, including me unfortunatley.

I hate him. Him and his stupid nice guy act. It is an act. He's a fucking phycho everywhere else. 

Speaking of Mr Phycho, he just came into my room. 

"Hey Nattie," He grinned. I hate that. His damn smile. And the fact he calls me Nattie. My name is Natalie to mostly everyone. My mom is the only one who calls me Nattie. My dad used to.

He died a few years ago. I miss him, so much. Anyway, back to reality.

"Fuck off, Billie." I said, and he looked fake hurt. 

"That's no way to speak to me. I am your step father," He said, and that stupid fucking grin was back.

"You are not my step father, you and my mom aren't married." I said, and he laughed.

"I can fix that." He said, and he tickled me under my chin. I picked up my pen.

"Billie, leave me alone!" I said, and he shrugged, hanging in the door way. I flicked my pen expertly, and it smacked him in the face. He swore and covered his face, backing out of my room to go downstairs, most likely to tell my mom. Oh, joy.