That's What You Get, Lydia // Hayley Williams

[Chapter Sixteen] Bad News

[Chapter Sixteen] Bad News

Song: Do You Wanna Touch Me? By Joan Jett & The Blackhearts 

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"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna runaway!" Joan Jett's voice echoed in the room, the music blasting through the stereo while I eagerly sang along. My pants were off, a white t-shirt pulled over my head while I jumped and danced on the messy bed, four lines of cocaine pumping through me. An old friend of mine, Robin Harmon, had dropped by for a visit. I knew Robin from eighth grade, Freshman and Sophomore year. She moved away during the middle of our Junior year, but now, she claims that she's back and going to stay for good. 

In many ways, Robin is similar to me. Robin 's tall, standing around the height of 5"7. Her choppy black hair fell down to the top of her shoulders, choppy bangs nicely swept to the side. She did remind me a lot of Joan Jett, but with all the drugs and irrational decisions that Robin makes, her personality reminds me more of Cherie Currie. We both became friends when I discovered that Robin 's love for The Runaways was as strong as mine. With that, we began hanging out and instantly clicked. 

Robin viewed me from the floor of my bedroom, her legs crossed underneath her while an amused look played her features. "You havin' fun up there, Lydia?" She questioned, laughing quietly to herself before she turned her attention back to the plate that sat before her. Robin cut another line of the white substance, snorting it up her nose with a clear small tube. For the past hour, Robin and I have been getting high on any kind of drug we have while playing Joan Jett & The Blackhearts' albums. 

Sighing in content, Robin leaned back on the floor, her legs still crossed as she used her elbows to support her weight. "It feels good to be back. Florida sucked." She uttered, wiping her nose clean with the sleeve of her black and white, striped sweater. "Mom was a total bitch and my dad wouldn't shut the fuck up about how I need to go to school or some shit like that. They couldn't handle my ass anymore so that's why I'm back here, staying with my aunt Shay." She clarified, I said nothing but nodded in understanding. 

Robin is going to come back to school though, the law says she has to. Either Robin starts attending school again or they send her to a rehabilitation center. Robin says, "Fuck rehab. I'll go to my classes, but that don't mean I have to do shit for them." 

Ceasing the jumping on my bed, I hoped off the mattress and took a seat beside Robin on the floor. "I know what you mean about the dad thing. My dad is such a tool. He's like, like an idiot who is easily manipulated by white women with large breasts. The last time I was at his place, I beat the shit out of his prissy bitch so I'm certain that he never wants to see me again. Well, as long as she remains in that house, on her knees, he doesn't want to see me." I grabbed the long joint that Robin had rolled up not too long ago. It was lit, leaned against the edge of an old dirty ash tray. "Not that it matters to me. That bitch can never replace mom, John and I both know that very well." 

Robin sighed, leaning her head against my shoulder. "Parents suck. Let's runaway and form a band." 

I laughed, shaking my head at her words. The idea of running away and forming a band sounds amazing, like something from a dream or movie. But I'm already in a band so there's honestly no point in starting another one. "Robin , I'm already in a band." I chuckled, taking a long drag from the joint, my eyes fluttering close as the air began to quickly fill up my lungs. The song faded out, 'Roxy Roller' by Nick Gilder then began to play. Robin grinned widely, throwing her arms up in the air. 

"This song is fucking amazing," Robin said. I watched with amusement as she jumped up from the floor, her hips swaying in a ridiculously funny manner while her hands moved idly in the air. I wonder what Robin thinks about the band I formed with my three close friends. During eighth grade, forming a band was all I really talked about. I always told Robin that I would someday be playing on the mainstage at Warped Tour or headlining a tour with my band mates. Of course, I was thirteen back then, but my goals remain the same. I don't really want to call them my 'dreams' because... well, because, dreams aren't real and what I want I'm damn sure to make it real.