The Innocent Can Never Last

Elvis Lives?

Billie's POV

"Hey, man, give me another one of those joints!" I shouted to JJ, later that night.
I had felt like crap all day, or at least since Emma had called me, and all I wanted to do was get really high and pass out for a while. I needed an escape. Ruby had left several hours earlier, so I couldn't use her as any kind of a release, and I didn't want to call Mike, because he would just say, "I told you so."
I was afraid that I'd die of blood loss if I cut myself anymore, so my only option left was to smoke...and drink. I think Tre could tell that there was something wrong with me, but he didn't say anything; he just kept giving me worried looks every now and then.
JJ grinned and threw me the bag of weed, as well as a beer. I popped the lid off the bottle and took a swig, before opening the bag of weed and pulling a joint out. Tre lit it for me, and I took several contented puffs, before slouching down in my seat and letting the drug take me away.

Several hours later, I found myself lying on the floor in front of the TV, lightly humming to myself as I carried on a half-whacked but lenghtly conversation with Elvis Presley. I had just gotten done telling Elvis about how my two best friends hated me because I was a big jerk, when suddenly, Elvis disappeared, only to be replaced by Tre.

He sat down next to me, as I began blinking stupidly, still trying to figure out where where Elvis had gone, too high to even be able to comprehend that Elvis had just been an illusion.

"Hey, Billie...are you okay?" Tre asked, and even though I was high, I was able to tell that he was pretty drunk by the way he was swaying back and forth.

"Dude...I just got done talking to Elvis..." I mumbled.

"That's awesome, Bill..." Tre said, lying down next to me on the floor. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know...he went away when you showed up..." I said.

"Aww...man, that sucks," Tre said. "You're lucky, Billie...you got to talk to Elvis...he's my hero."

"Yeah, I know...I need to call Mike," I said.
With that, I picked myself up off the floor and stumbled into the kitchen, where I picked up the phone and slowly dialed Mike's number.

It rang several times, before finally, there was a very groggy sounding, "Hello?" on the other line.

"Hey...Mikey..." I said slowly.
There was a long pause on the other line, and finally: "Billie?"
"Yeah, it's me..." I said.
"Why the hell are you calling me at three in the morning, Billie? My mom's gonna be pissed if you wake her up," Mike said.
"I just...wanted to tell you that I talked to Elvis a little bit ago..." I said
"Elvis who?" Mike asked.
"Presley, man! I talked to Elvis Presley! It was awesome! He was really cool!" I said.
"Billie, Elvis is dead..." Mike said slowly.
"No, man...I talked to him...he lives..." I replied.

There was another long pause, before Mike said, "Billie...are you high?"
"Yeah...it's really great, Mike...you should come over and get high, too, it'll be great...we can talk to Elvis together..." I said.
"Billie, Elvis is dead," Mike said again.
"No, he's not! Elvis lives, Mike! You're a liar! He lives, and you're just jealous because you can't talk to him, too!" I shouted, becoming slightly hysterical.
"Whatever, Billie. Call me again when you're sober and then we'll talk. I've got school in the morning. I don't have time to listen to your bullshit about talking to Elvis," Mike said.

"Fine! I won't call you! You're a loser! You hurt my feelings! Elvis is alive!" I yelled, hanging up the phone and storming back into the living room.

I sat down on the couch and grabbed another joint, as Tre looked up at me and mumbled, "Hey...Elvis! What are you doing here?"

Emma's POV

"What? He said he was talking to Elvis? What was he on?" I asked Mike, witha laugh.
It was three-fifteen the next day, and Mike and I were in my car, on our way back to my house from school.

Mike had just gotten done telling me the story about how Billie had called him at three o'clock in the morning the night before, yelling something about meeting Elvis Presley. "He told me he was high, and frankly, I'm not surprised," Mike said.

"No, me neither...you said he was living in that warehouse that's over by the bay, didn't you?" I asked.
"Yeah," Mike replied.

It got quiet for a minute, and then I started laughing hysterically. "Elvis? He was actually talking to Elvis?" I asked.

"So he says," Mike answered. "And then when I told him that Elvis was dead he started getting all mad and he ended up hanging up on me."
I grinned, just as I pulled my car into my own driveway and parked it.

Mike and I both got out and started walking towards the house. We had no sooner walked in through the front door when there was an excited shout of "Emma!" from what sounded like the kitchen.

Mike and I exchanged puzzled glances at one another, before we both turned and cautiously entered the kitchen. Before I was hardly aware of what was going on, a long white envelope was shoved into my hand by either my mom or Melly, {I couldn't tell which} and both of them started yelling, "Open it! Open it!"

"What is it?" I asked, flipping the envelope over to read the return address. When I saw that the envelope had been sent from the University of Berkeley, California, my heart fluttered a bit. I had applied there months ago, but after waiting for several weeks and getting no reply, I had pretty much forgotten about it. But now here it was: this little white envelope contained the answer to my whole future inside of it. Would they let me in? Or would I be another one of the thousands of people who applied every year, only to find that their dreams had been cut short? There was only one way to find out...

With trembling fingers, I opened the envelope and pulled out the paper. I carefully unfolded it, and quickly read the first paragraph at the top of the page.

Ms. Emma Rydell,
"We are pleased to inform you that your application to the University of Berkeley, California has been accepted."

I took a second to let this information sink in, before looking up at the apprehensive faces of Mom, Melly, and Mike, and shouting, "I got accepted!"

Everyone started jumping around and hugging each other, before my mom yanked the paper out of my hand and began reading it. After a few minutes, she screamed, and started jumping up and down on the balls of her feet. "Emma!" she screamed. "They've looked at your records, and, and...they're giving you a scholarship! We'll only have to pay like, six hundred some odd dollars a semester!"
"What?" I shouted. "Oh, my fuc- I mean, freaking god!"

My mom raised her eyebrows at me, and I shrunk back a bit, but she didn't say anything. Instead she smiled, and shouted, "Hell yes! My kid's going to Berkeley!"
I just grinned.