"What floor, Mr. Dirnt?" I asked as they entered the elevator. I kept my cool. It was hard not to scream like a little girl, but I kept my cool.
"Uh…first." He said as the doors closed.
I pressed the button that had an 'L' on it for lobby. We were 12 floors up. They'd be in there for a while.
I didn't say anything to them. Sirens were filling the air. You could even hear them from the elevator. They were after me. I knew it.
"It's a shame, y'know?" Tre said to them. Had they found out already?
"What is?" I asked, holding my guitar case, hoping they'd notice it.
"Ah, this girl we knew just robbed a bank."
"The Jimmy girl? Yeah, I saw that." I told them.
"Really? How?"
The elevator stopped on the thirteenth floor, then started to go again, since no one was there. Stupid kids pressing buttons.
"I was in front of the bank when she flew out." I lied.
"It's a shame. I liked her." Mike said.
"I still do." I told them.
"What? Why? After all that?"
"Jimmy is not a criminal. I've met her a few times. She has…problems. It was an act of desperation."
"What sort of problems?" Billie-Joe asked.
"Problems that rich people like you just don't seem to understand."
As the elevator came closer to the roof, Billie-Joe sighed a deep sigh.
"It's just…I trusted her." He said.
"A wise man once said "Trust is a dirty word that comes from such a liar.""
Ha, I used his own song lyrics against him. What now?
Mike chuckled. I was very funny if you let me be.
As the doors opened to the roof, I turned to them.
"St. Jimmy is a confusing and complex individual. It's up to people like us to understand that and to believe her."
"But…it's not like I'll forget she robbed a bank, kid!"
As I walked out the door, I sighed. With my back turned, I used another part of Billie-Joe's lyrics.
"Remember…whatever…it seems like forever ago."
The doors closed, and I walked through the sea of garbage on the roof. I went to the excluded area that was gated off, and I put my stuff inside.
I made a bed out of two crates and a pile of blankets, and I was smart enough to pack a pillow.
There was some space to move around in. I kept my guitar safely hidden in the corner. There was no room to stand, so you had to bend over. And it was very dark.
This was my new home. This was it.
What the heck was going on with my life? Why me?
And as soon as this trash heap started to feel a little homey, I heard gunshots. And more gunshots.