The Jesus of Suburbia

Sitting on My Crucifix

Time continued on a wheel that I couldn't stop even if I tried. Three days passed in a similar fashion as the second day.

I'd walk around the town, smoke behind Adrienne's back, write lyrics in a notebook I'd found, find some rad chord progressions and worry about the adoption.

What a way to spend three days.

Oddly enough, I was feeling kind of guilty when I raised a cig to my lips. Adrienne had been a lot nicer lately and aside from being suspicious, I was grateful for it.

I realized that Jakob was actually pretty cool and that Joey was going to be a really solid brother.

Today he'd brought a friend over, his name was Max Becker.

He was a fairly handsome fourteen year old with blonde hair and a bass guitar.

I was sitting on my bed with my notebook, staring at a blank page. Not being able to write anything was infuriating. Even if I'd had an idea, my nearest pen was across the room.

As I looked around the room that I was gradually destroying, Max stuck his head in my room.

He looked around and when he saw me looking he grinned and stepped in completely.

"You must be Red."

Confused, I shrugged and sat up. "Yeah, what have you heard?"

"Your song." He nodded and leaned against the door frame like he was way older then fourteen. "Oh, and Joey talks about you a lot."

"Oh? How so?"

"He told me what he knew."

"Well, that's not much unless he's making something up."

The boy had a cheeky grin. "Well then, correct me. Tell me." He flicked his eyebrows up and then down quickly. How a fourteen year old could come across so sexual, I didn't know. "He told me that you're parents were brutally murdered by Lord Voldemort and that you were sent here on a vacation from a war torn country in search of a magical wardrobe."

Okay, let me get one thing straight. I don't read, but I got those references. I'm not a nerd though.

"Okay, well my dad's in Azkaban and my mom was killed in a flying car accident."

It made it easier to talk about it if I sugarcoated the story with literary references.

His smile fell and he nodded as if he understood. Of course he didn't understand.

"Well man, you're pretty cool for getting through all that." Max looked down at his feet and his shoulders rose with a shrug.

"Yeah whatever. Why'd you come in?" My voice was ice, but I didn't care. He'd seriously invaded and I had soldiers set up for this reason.

"I just wanted to met you. That's all." Max shrugged again and looked up at me with a weird twinkle in his eyes before turning on his heel and walking away.

I heard a "man, he's cool." and a laugh belonging to Joey before a door down the hallway shut.

Later that afternoon a knock sounded at my door. I usually stayed in my room and there seemed to be an unwritten rule that said 'If you want to talk to Red, go find him.'

Quickly, I hid the small bag of white powder under my pillow and stood up.

I sniffed once and blinked a few times.

"Come in." I mumbled after a moment. It'd only been a few seconds, but I already felt better about... Wait, what did I even feel bad about?

Maybe it was something stupid.

Billy walked into the room with a grin, holding his laptop.

"You have to come on tour with us."

"What?" It'd only been four days. He said he's wait a week before the bet was over.

"It's been four days, you know, and it already has over a thousand views and over one hundred likes. You're definitely coming on tour unless, you know, you don't want to."

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out and so I close it again. This is ridiculous. Of course I want to go on tour, but that song was not good in comparison to what I can do with a couple weeks and some vodka.

"I want to come." Finally I manage to speak. "But I'm not going onstage."

Billie laughs. "We were never planning on having you onstage."

A wave of heat washes through my body. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or embarrassed, or both.

I shrug and mutter, "Good. So uh, when's your album coming out?"

"In eleven days. We have your adoption in two days, packing, you know, a few meetings with our manager and some stuff like that." He shrugs as of this is all normal to him. Maybe he's forgetting that I haven't released at least six albums, so I had no idea how this all worked.

"Uh, about the adoption. Is it in the court with all the fancy papers and stuff or..." I let the last part drop off.

Billie takes one of his hands out of his pocket and sets down his laptop. Suddenly he's more serious. After running a hand through his hair he responds.

"It's up to you, really. We can do it in court or we can just stop by the judges office and fill out the forms."

"Second option." I answer quickly.

Anything's better then appearing in court.

He stays longer than I imagined him to with some small talk and suggestions for packing. Towards the end of our conversation as he was standing up he said, "You should wear a suit tomorrow, maybe smooth down your hair."

I'm completely shocked by this.

I stand and look in the mirror.

In my opinion, this is perfectly fine. Black hair, black eyeliner, black jeans, black shirt with a Bowling For Soup logo on it.

Sure, I look a bit goth but I don't mind. It's the look I'm going for anyway.

"Look like a fucking man for once..." I mutter under my breath, quoting an early Green Day interview.

He looks confused as I glance at him through my reflection in the mirror.

"It's from an early interview of yours." I confirm. "When you were still a sassy blonde with a hoodie."

Billie grins and bit and shrugs. "Good advice though." A tiny pink color goes through his cheeks as he turned to leave. "I kinda wish I hadn't dyed my hair. Blonde was the best, really."

I pulled at the roots of my hair. Naturally, I was blonde. What did that mean?

Stuck in my cosmetic thoughts, Billie leaves the room.