Know Your Enemy

Part 14

Billie Joe let me inside his house, and after he closed the door, I stood in the hallway with my suitcases, my head down.
"So..." Billie started. I looked up at him, he was puzzled, but then pushed the feeling away.
"Cmon, let's get your shit put up." He smiled at me, and took one of my suitcases, leading me to his room. He put the big suitcase next to his bed, and I stood in the doorway. He took the other suitcase from me, and put it by his dresser. I stood still. He walked up next to me, and closed the door, giving us privacy.
"So... what happened, Scar?" He asked carefully.
I took deep breath and walked over to his dresser, facing away from him.
"My mom kicked me out of the house." I said simply.
"Oh fuck." Billie said.
"Oh, and she pulled me out of school. No scholarships, no graduation... no college. I won't be able to get enough money. I'd have to become a stripper for something like that. And what high school will want to hire an English teacher who had to work for her money as a stripper? None." I guess you could say I had a lot of it already thought out, and I was fucked.
"You want to be an English teacher?" Billie said, surprised. I messed with the football trophy on his dresser.
"Yeah," I said, nodding. "But that can't happen any time soon."
Billie got up from the bed and walked over to the dresser.
"I used to play football when I was younger. It was all I wanted to do when I grew up. Be a pro, get into the NFL... that kind of stuff."
I looked at him.
"You? In the NFL? But you seem like you're born to play guitar." I questioned.
"Well that's what I've become to realize. I tried out for the football team my freshman and sophomore year. Didn't make it. But I had always played instruments. Piano, guitar... my dad was a drummer, but the stringed instruments caught my attention more than anything. Mike had always played too, and eventually we started a band. About a year ago we became regulars at Gilman. It just goes to show that your life can change in the greatest ways, even if someone is holding you back."
After Billie's long speech, I thought... and thought.
"Yeah, but you've always had a mother who loved and supported you. Mine doesn't want me to do anything but get straight A's and be by myself. It just seems I always ruin everything I try to do." To this, Billie stayed silent.
"It's whatever." I said. I still hasn't shed a tear. Billie hugged me tightly.
"It's okay, Scar. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. I gotta go talk to my mom about you staying. She'll let you, for sure. I just gotta let her know."
Billie kissed my forehead, and walked out the door. I grabbed my first suitcase, and sat on the floor in front of the bed. I picked out my records, and started sorting.

*BILLIE'S POV*

I closed the door behind me, and walked into the living room. I started to think about Scar, and how re mother was a complete piece of shit. I mean, I get that you want the best for your kid, and shit, but... there's no reason to kick them out of the house for messing up a couple of times. Scar was perfect. She was smart, a straight A student when wanted to be a fucking teacher. How could her mother just throw her life away like this? If it's because she doesn't like me, then that's not Scar's fault. It's mine. I could've stayed away, but I didn't. Fuck, it's all so fucked up now.
As I explained the details to my mom, she was nearly in tears.
"How could a parent ruin their daughter like that? Where is her father in all of this? Is he supporting Scar, or her mother?" She asked.
"I don't know," I started, "she didn't say anything about her dad. I just figured he wasn't involved."
"Whatever the matter, what happened was too drastic. I don't know how a parent could just throw their own child's life away. When you stopped playing football, I wasn't upset."
I sighed. "Mom, her situation is different."
"Okay," she said, "I don't get upset that you smoke weed."
"What?!" I asked surprised. "I don't do that!" I lied.
"Yes you do, I can smell it on you. It's fine though, I know you're safe about it. But that's besides the point. Scarlett can stay for as long as she wants. Even if you move out, and she wants to stay, I will take care of her." She smiled.
"Thanks, mom. I love you." I hugged her, and went back to my room.
When I walked in, Scar was sitting at the foot of the bed, and appeared to be asleep. She was holding a record in her hand. Tim, by the Replacements. God, did she have a good taste in music. I took the record out of her hand, and put it with the others in a pile. I picked her up, and set her on the bed, pulling the covers over her shoulders. She subconsciously rolled onto her side, and faced away from me. I grabbed a pillow and blanket from the closet, and went to sleep on the couch in the living room.

*SCARLETT'S POV*

I woke up at 2:30 that morning. I don't know why I had actually thought about my situation before, but now, in the middle of the night, the reality of it finally hit me. I was laying in Billie's bed, looking up at the ceiling fan, just turning and turning... and my breath hitched in my throat. It became rapid as I tried to get it back. My limbs started to shake, and my forehead began to sweat, even though the room was fairly cool. I started to have a full blown panic attack. I threw the covers off of the bed, and stood up, going to the window. My vision was blurry, and my hands were shaking so violently, that I struggled to unlock the window. When I finally did, I took a deep breath of the cool winter air, and tried to calm myself, but to no prevail. I was still sweating and shaking like crazy, thinking about how I had no money, no permanent home, and no job. I had thrown the applications away out of anger and I had nowhere to go. I had to fend for myself and be thought but I didn't know if I could do it. I hadn't even gotten my license yet. I had to start doing things for myself. I... I... I needed water.
I stepped out of Billie's room, and walked to the kitchen, breathing like I had just ran a marathon, and shaking like I was freezing. I walked passed the living room, where Billie was on the couch asleep, by the TV that was only showing static. I searched every cabinet for a glass, and when I finally found one, I was shaking so much that I dropped it, and it shattered everywhere. I reached down to start picking up the glass, and I cut the palm of my hand on a huge shard. I could feel blood start to drip from my hand as the light was turned on.
"Scar?" Billie asked. I turned around. "What's going on?"
"I..." I struggled for breath. "I was trying to get water, and I dropped a glass." Billie started to walk towards me.
"No!" I cried. "I don't need help, I can do this! Ive got to be able to do at least ONE thing right on my own! Can't I?!" I finally started to cry. My hand burned like crazy at this point, and I started to walk over to the sink to wash off the blood. Billie left for a second, and then came back with a dust pan, and started cleaning up the glass. I wrapped my hand with a paper towel, and Billie was back behind me. He set the first aid kit in front of me, and opened it up, he handed me a band aid, and I struggled to put it on. I gave up, and handed him the stupid sticky thing. He carefully placed it over my cut, and I could feel the tears come again.
"Scar." He said, "I love you." My heart melted, and I struggled to breathe.
"I love you... too." I wheezed. Billie pulled me into a hug, occasionally stroking my hair, and rubbing my back. It always seemed to work. My breathing returned to normal, and I had stopped shaking.
Billie yawned. "Let's get back to bed." I nodded in agreement.
I stepped back into bed, pulling the cover over me, but not fully.
"Billie," I started, "can you stay with me?" Billie smiled, and got into bed, wrapping his right arm around my tummy, and his left arm went under my head.
At first we sat quietly, and then he started to hum the soft, sweet tune that I loved. And for the first time in months, I fell asleep peacefully, without any panic.