My Stepdad, Billie Joe Armstrong (Daughter of Rage and Love)

I Am One of Those Melodramatic Fools, Neurotic to the Bone

"Hide!" I whisper yelled at Richie and we both ducked behind an aisle. But Billie already saw us – I learned this the hard way because when I glanced around the mint and chocolate chip cookies I bumped straight into his chest.

"Ow," I muttered as Billie started to apologize profusely.

"Look at your hair little man, it's so fluffy," Richie interrupted us and ruffled Billie's hair.

"Are you high?" he asked Richie suspiciously.

"Hey, he was BORN that way – at least he didn't spend his entire life dedicating his life to a band named after weed!" I yelled at him.

"She has a point," Richie said and hid behind me.

"She is coming home right now," he said and looked at me, his emerald eyes flashing with anger. How dare he be angry with me? What the hell is this fuckery, he's not my father, he can piss off.

I pointed my finger at him and said in a loud, commanding voice: "No!"

Thunder crackles at that exact moment, and all the power went out in the supermarket.

"Wowww, I didn't know you're the Antichirst too!" Richie said from somewhere behind me, clutching onto one of my arms with a dedicated ferocity.

Billie's hand came out of the dark and grabbed my other arm.

"Don't touch me you old fart," I hissed at him.

"I'll stop touching you when you get your butt home!" he hissed back at me.

"Guys, I know I'm in no position to say anything here but both of you sound wayyy too wrong. I think we should leave the store before someone calls the social services and the police," Richie piped up.

Billie, suddenly gaining the strength that Thor would bow down before, pulled me and Richie out of the store in all of twenty seconds.

Greeted by daylight, (which was too weird and creepy, I mean there was thunder like what, no more than a minute ago? The hell did it go?) I saw Billie looked even more infuriated then he had inside.

"If you don't come back home right now, I swear I will...I will, I will!" he said, trying to sound threatening but failing miserably after not being able to come up with the punishment.

In the end though, what does it matter? My mom is going to marry him, whether I like it or not, and Lauren will help her out with the dress. Maybe she'll even go to the trouble of ruining their marriage before it starts but hey, that's wishful thinking. Sure, my mom didn't come to me, her own flesh and blood daughter to help out with what must be one of the most important days of her life but we're past that aren't we? Flesh and blood means nothing in our home, something I've learned the hard way. Maybe it's time to come to terms with it.

"Okay," I said.

"O-o-okay? Really? I thought I would have to drag you home by your hair or something," Billie said and looked at me with his stupid green eyes, his stupid lips pursed, and his stupid eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his stupid forehead, his stupid wrinkles clearly standing out against his pale skin.

"Touch my hair, I kill you," I said simply and hugged Richie, bidding him goodbye.

He waved after us as Billie put his arm around my shoulders. I punched him and he 'oofed', doubling over.

"What was that for?" he wheezed out.

"A lot of things, but mostly for touching me," I said.

"Fair...enough," he managed to get out before stopping in his tracks and wheezing over the sidewalk.

I sighed and stopped as well. Willing myself to walk away I walked over to him and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah yeah...fine. You pack a nice punch," he said.

"Yeah well, years and multiple potential stepfathers who tend to get a little too personal with punishments down the line, I guess I had to learn," I said and poked his head.

He looked up at me, his emeralds glinting with sadness. "What do you mean by –"

"Let's go, I want to see another futile attempt from Lauren at ruining my mom's life," I cut him off and headed away.

"Coming!" he yelled after me, and I heard his loud footsteps coming my way. 'Of course you are you bastard,' I thought to myself and resisted the urge to smile.