Converse | Eddie Munson x OC x Billy Hargrove

Chapter 5

My foot bounces in the air to the rhythm, head bobbing as I hum along to my new favorite song, "I Hate Myself For Loving You," by Joan Jett. It was a little weird in some ways- raspy and dark. But it wasn't so unfamiliar that I felt Eddie-fied. I was flipping through a magazine, gathering information about Joan Jett, who she was, how she looked, what she thought. She seemed kick ass.

I'd given into the cassettes only a couple hours after the trip out, and I pulled out my collection of magazines shortly after. Surely, I had thought, there was no way I completely ignored this new artist- but I did. I had completely ignored her the last couple of times I'd read over my magazines. It was probably her style- I wasn't used to giving people with that type of style a second thought. But she seemed really, really cool, despite it.

Around 7 I'd puttered to the kitchen to conjure up some sort of sustenance. Though I knew I was alone, I glanced around a bit, as if I was being observed by some unsee-able force. Then, content that no one was seeing me at present, I took a spoonful of cereal, followed by a chug of milk straight from the carton. This was my dinner, and I continued until I really couldn't swallow anymore milk.

At 7:30 it was time to lay in bed on my back and stare at the ceiling, trying to relax but reminding myself over and over that I could spend that time doing my homework. I groaned, wiping my face with my hands to smooth out the lines I was sure were creasing my expression. Then, I heard a familiar sound- the rev of a BMW in the driveway. I stretched my arms above my head, allowing myself to forget about the homework, just for now. I slipped on some pink slippers and padded down the stairs.

When I reached the landing, I could hear Steve shouting outside- at someone, it sounded like. I wrapped a jacket around my shoulders, unlocking and opening the door to peak out.

"La," Steve breathed, only half of his body out of the car, "Get your ass in the car."

"...What?" I merely responded, brow creasing. "Dude, it's, like, almost 8-"

Steve looked tired, but it was hard to tell, because over-top of that, he looked absolutely frantic. "I don't care if you never do again, but this once- right now- just once in your life can you trust me and get in the damn car without a detailed argument about it?"

I glanced to the back seat, which- for whatever reason- housed three children, all watching me with mixed reactions. It was a much weirder sight than who I thought he might have been arguing with, Nancy Wheeler. The three were fighting amongst themselves, and I allowed myself to imagine being in that car for longer than ten minutes. The thought didn't sound appealing.

"But I'm in my slippers," I pouted simply, shrugging my shoulders as if to say, 'oh well, too bad, so close.'

"Just get in the car!" One of the kids finally screams, and I jump.

In the most surprising turn of events, I find myself seated beside Steve in the front seat while the three younger teenagers' voices disputed over-top of each other behind me. I tucked my legs under myself, wondering what could possibly bring me into this situation. Steve wasn't exactly giving me much to go off of- he had said he didn't want to explain to me unless he had to. That I should "remain blissfully unaware while I could." But here I was, tucked snugly in his car, when I could have been giving one of the other cassettes a go. I didn't feel blissfully unaware. I felt kidnapped, annoyed and left out of the loop.

"What are we doing?" I finally beg again, but Steve throws his hands up exaggeratedly.

"You can't just leave it alone, can you? You've always gotta know everything!"

"I like it that way, yes," I snipped, crossing my arms defensively.

"She's just like you," The boy with the curls that had yelled at me laughed. "God, that's gotta get annoying in a karmic kind of way,"