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The Babysitter	By : redqueeninwonderland Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Green Day Views: 12260 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Green Day. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: The Babysitter Chapter Seventeen

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

Notes: Only a few more chapters to go!

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Ava was upstairs, packing the rest of her stuff, when Tre found her. “Hey princess.” She didn't look up and he flopped on the part of the bed not covered in clothes. “How ya feelin'?”

She shrugged, another shirt going in the duffel.

“He hasn't actually kicked you out, you know.”

Ava gave him a Look.

Tre rolled his eyes, “I sorta thought I'd find you up here cryin'.”

She stopped, looking at him for a long, drawn out moment and then she sighed. “It's my own damn fault.”

“That's very adult of you.”

“No it's not,” She looked at him. “Thank you. For last night, I mean... I know Cara wouldn't have bothered and Billie-- well, thank you just the same.”

He nodded in acquiescence, choosing not to mention the hours she spent coming down. The things she told him about herself, hell about Billie even.

She laughed, “And here I thought you didn't like me very much.”

“You're a good kid,” he conceded. At the look on her face he shrugged, “If Billie wanted to go Lolita I can think of worse people he coulda done it with. Your friend Cara for example.”

“What is it you two have against her, anyway?”

“You mean other than the fact that you're up here by yourself and she's down there watchin' Rugrats?”

“She'd be up here if I asked her to be,” Ava answered, tugging on the hem of her tee shirt. He gave her a long, searching look.

“I'm sure you're right, babe,” he said finally, realizing Ava probably wouldn't listen if he tried to tell her about Cara and her octopus hands. “I'll carry this out to your car.”

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“Okay, so chick night. But I still don't understand why we're bothering here.”

Ava gave Cara a long, long stare and her friend shrugged, throwing a box of Pop Secret into the cart. Cara had been giving her hell ever since they left Billie's place. Ava was proud of herself. It wasn't until they pulled into her driveway that it sunk it that it was over.

And then she broke down.

“What movies are we buying?” Tom hadn't said anything, just waved to the girls as he got into his roadster to go to some meeting. She loved her dad for staying out of it. Because as far as he knew at this point she was single and had nothing to cry about.

“I don't know, the usual-- hey, don't you know that kid?” Cara pointed to the very familiar stock boy to their immediate left. Ava took in the to-curly-blond hair and the pukka shells. And then the bright blue Wal-Mart smock. She forgot he worked here.

“I gotta go-- uhm, get movies, huh?” Ava abandoned the cart, feeling vaguely ill. The ladies' rooms were close to the electronics section.

Fifteen minutes later, Ava emerged from one of the stalls. Throwing up made things better. She still felt guilty as hell, but it pretty much got out exactly what she felt for Matt. Cara was leaning against the sink, typing rapidly into her cell phone. She snapped it shut as soon as Ava got close to her. “Feel better, doll?”

“Yeah,” Ava grunted, running the water in the sink. “I forgot he worked here.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Why'd you dump that kid again?” Cara was fixing her hair in the bathroom mirror.

“He dumped me. And then I started seeing Billie,” Ava turned around to face her after rinsing her mouth out. “You don't have a thing for Matt Parker, do you? What happened to whatsisname?”

Cara shrugged, grinning beatifically, “I don't know what you're talking about. Just that I like him better than Mister Nasal Voice.”

Ava sighed, “Cara, what's your beef with Billie? You've been going out of your way to pick shit with him since you got here.”

“I know you're not blaming me for what happened!” Her friend looked affronted and Ava sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

“No, that's not what I'm saying, I'm sorry. I'm being a bitch. Can we go?”

“What? Oh sure,” Cara slung her purse over her shoulder, “I got the movies.”

It wasn't until they pulled into her driveway that it hit Ava-- Cara never answered the question about Matt. And she'd been texting like a fiend the entire ride home. She put it out of her mind quickly as Cara yelled “Chick flicks!” brandishing the Wal-Mart bag and taking off for the house.

A few hours, a whole pizza, and a screening of Scarface later and Cara and Ava were sitting Indian style in the middle of the living room. Cara shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she reached into the Wal-Mart bag, producing the movies.

“Okay, so we have Grease!, Ghost, Dirty Dancing, and Somewhere in Time.” She unwrapped the cellophane on each package as she went. “All great movies about love conquering all and all that bullshit.” She reverently opened each movie in front of Ava so that the DVDs were in plain sight. She reached into the Wal-Mart bag again.

Ava thought distantly of what Tre had said about Cara. She wished he could see her now. Like this. Cara really was a good friend. She understood. She just needed somebody to understand her. Ava took the proffered object that Cara handed her. This was a tradition that they started when Jimmy the Coke Dealer dumped Cara in sixth grade. (It was before he was a coke dealer) And Cara had been ass-crazy in love with the guy. They did it for every bad breakup the girls had.

Ava looked Cara in the eye, “I really really loved him.”

“You've never been in love before,” Cara observed, sounding surprised. Cara fell in and out of love like Ava changed her hair color. Ava was more closed off than that. Sometimes Cara envied her her emotional control.

“No... I didn't think he'd leave.”

“They always do, honey.” Cara took a sip of her Cherry Coke, “Guys are scum.”

“Even the romantic ones.”

“Especially the romantic ones.”

The hammer Ava was holding smashed into the open face of the Grease! DVD. “This is for saying you loved me!” Then Somewhere in Time, “This is for making me feel guilty!” Next it was Ghost, “I trusted you!” Then Dirty Dancing, “I loved you!” Again, and again, and again, until all the DVD's were just shards of silver plastic and the cases were a mass in the floor.

Cara knew not to mention that Ava had started to cry almost before the first hit. As she neared the end of her smash session, her chest heaving and her eyes shining, Cara reached into the plastic bag again for a box of Kleenex, thinking distantly that in twenty minutes she'd excuse herself and make a phone call.

Ava gave the mess one last, massive hit, “Because I wasn't good enough!” Before dropping the hammer and collapsing in on herself. Cara crawled through the mess, Kleenex extended and wrapped her arms around her friend.

Breakups always seemed like they weren't so bad after the first really, really good cry.

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It'd been two weeks and Ava still hadn't heard from Billie. She didn't know why she was especially surprised. But it still hurt, just the same. Cara was off somewhere and Ava wasn't positive, but she thought Cara'd started seeing Matt Parker on the sly.

She felt sort of betrayed.

But not particularly surprised.

She was seated in front of her piano. She'd been working on a song since the day after the “Chick Night.” And much as she hated to admit it, she almost wished Cara would just go back to Chicago. She felt ashamed for her tears, after that night she felt like she couldn't cry in front of her friend any more, saving them instead for long, hotter-than-they-should-be showers, and the polluted, crashing waves of the Pacific.

And all Cara did was crack jokes that shouldn't have stung because she was only trying to help. But they did sting.

So Ava did what she always did, threw herself into song writing and hoped it would all go away.

“They say it's lonely at the top/Let me tell you man, it kills at the bottom/Well you will never hear your name/If no one knows you, how can you be forgotten?/Oh...Ah-oh...oh-”

“Ava?” Tom Monroe strode into the sun room and sat opposite his daughter on the piano bench.

“One and one/And one make three-”

Tom decided he was done letting her pretend he knew nothing.

“For everyone, but not for me...”

“When your mother and I met she was only thirteen years old and I was on my senior year at University.”

Ava played like she didn't know he was there, “Is there something/That I can't see-”

“I see her in you, every day, darling.” She still wasn't acknowledging him and he sighed, rising. “Don't worry love,” he put a hand on his daughter's shoulder and kissed the top of her head, “Billie'll come around.”

Ava didn't check the tears that fell after he left. Letting what he said sink in. She let the music take her, her voice showing strain for the first time. “Is this what/I was meant to be?/ Ohh... Ah-oh... oh...”

Sometimes she wondered if it was all supposed to hurt this much. She wondered if Billie were okay and then felt guilty for wondering. Then got mad that she felt guilty. She wondered if he cared that she was dying inside.

“They say it's lonely at the top/But let me tell you man it kills at the bottom.”
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The Babysitter