Chapter 8
Ari Armstrong
Lunch rolled around pretty quick today, having not really payed attention in the majority of my classes before. If it keeps going like this, my last class should be particularly slow.
Amy seemed to be getting along with everyone she met today, especially the people at our lunch table. Although, our table hasn't gotten any new people this year; it's pretty much the same as it's been since the seventh grade: Nathan, Anthony, Melonie, Lou Black, Mitchel Williams, Ryan Parks, me, and now Amy. Joey would sit here, too, but he sits with his lame excuse for a girlfriend and her slutty friends. So, y'know, we're open to new people. We're friendly.
When Anthony came back from getting lunch, he sat down across from me, right next to Amy. "So Anthony, who dumped who this morning?" I asked, tossing a few Cheez-Itz in my mouth and drowning them down with my Snapple iced tea. Melonie turned her head and looked at me questioningly. "Anthony and Cat broke up this morning in study hall."
"What?!?" she shouted, slamming her iced tea can down on the lunch table. "But you guys were gonna be together forever! What the fuck happened?"
Anthony laughed. "Dani's party happened. Oh, and Amy happened, too. Cat doesn't like her because she wears red skinny jeans. I thought that she was being really stupid and conceited and bitchy, so I dumped her."
"That is really stupid," she sighed. "I mean, I love red skinnies, but I'd never have, like, the courage to wear them. I think they're amazing, though! So, you guys are gonna get back together, right?"
He shook his head. "I've had enough of her shit. Ever since she's been hanging out with Anna and Emma, she's been a bitch to everyone. Including me. I mean, she was starting to be one of those clingy, annoying, 'do everything with me or I'm going to cry' girlfriends. High maintenance, y'know? I don't want a girl like that, even if she is hot."
I laughed, crumpling my now empty Cheez-Itz bag in my fist. "Even though Cat really isn't all that pretty - at all - deep words, Anthony. Live by them for the rest of our friendship or else we're not friends anymore. Just across-the-street-neighbors."
"And God-siblings," he added.
"God-siblings?" I asked, finishing the last of my iced tea and placing it in the Cheez-Itz bag and throwing it on Anthony's lunch tray for him to throw out. He nods. "What do you mean by that?"
He swallowed a bite of his sandwich before saying, "My dad is your Godfather. Didn't you know that?" I shook my head, laughing. "Well he is, so we're God-siblings! You and Joey and Jake all get to live with us if Billie and Adrienne somehow spontaneously die together!"
I laughed again. "Oh, joy. Ramona would definitely keep me company, right?" I asked, sighing. He shrugged. "Actually, Frankito would. He's one badass little kid. We're best friends." Melonie laughed next to me.
"I still can't believe your dad wanted to name him Frankito," Melonie said to Anthony. To Amy, she said, "So, Amy, where ya from?"
Amy laughed lightly. "I'm from here in California. Rodeo, actually. Mom decided it was time for a change, to get outta the slums, y'know? And Dad...well, let's just say he and Mom didn't get along like they used to before she decided to move to Oakland. Me, like, who I am now, I'm really just the product of a broken home. Born and raised listening to rock and punk, and, hey, look where I am now. Dining on shitty food in a new school's cafeteria with three of the children of my favorite band and their friends. Funny, isn't it?"
"Oh, come on," Ryan said, breaking his usual silence. "You can call us friends; we don't bite...well, Anthony might, but still." We all laughed as Anthony reached around Amy and gave him a good-natured five star. It sounded like it really hurt.

YOU ARE READING
21st Century Breakdown: Nathan and Ari
FanficArianna Armstrong, the notorious daughter of Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day, finds herself struggling to survive in a world made up of liars, fakes, and, over all, the majority. Out of the entire junior class at Oakland High School, Nathan Pritc...