Blondie Wannabe: A Billy Hargrove Fanfic

Just Have Fun

The next day, I could not be gladder this was the last day of school before winter break, even if it meant I'd have to tolerate the lame parties in every block. Daisy allowed each of the classes to pick something to listen to other than jazz, so I had to endure a lot of Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, and Phil Collins up until photography class.

"Could we listen to the Talking Heads?" Jonathan asked, and I could've kissed him.

"Nice choice," I said, coming to look over his shoulder at some of the photographs he'd taken, most of still life and shadows, but a lot of me too. "You're really talented."

"Thanks, I've been blessed with some good subjects, though."

I blushed, sitting beside him to look at the photos. "Which ones are you thinking about using in your final project?"

"It's between these two." He pulled two of me, one that was more close up, me looking off into the sun, the light reflected on my eyes. The other was gently out of focus, the camera caught between my body and something in the background: Billy. He was staring on at me, at the Jonathan, the rage on his face just barely visible. "I know the first one is more technically competent, but the other is like a movie, it tells a story. The theme is 'A Thousand Words' and I feel like that one truly does speak volumes."

My heart pounded in my chest. I know Jonathan didn't mean to put me on edge, he probably didn't even realize what he was insinuating, or that this picture was more than a moment captured accidentally, but a real, painful history between Billy and I, but I felt afraid none-the-less.

"You're right, the second one is better, more artistic. But I think Mrs. Mueller, a classically trained painter, might prefer something more traditional."

"I understand."

"Hold on to that one, though; I think it'd be good for your portfolio."

I stayed with Jonathan, talking for as long as I could, but eventually the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Just one more fifty-minute block, then I was home-free. Unfortunately, I dreaded last-period above all else and briefly wished that I was a student who could feign sickness and spend the rest of the day pretending to dry-heave in the nurse's office.

Shockingly, Billy was the first one in, dropping his bag by his usual seat, setting into the chair, looking bored. 

"Do you have any music requests, Mr. Hargrove?"

"Not really, you probably wouldn't have anything that I like."

Sarah arrived next, her hair in two french braids, a black choker around her slender neck. She smiled at me, and it seemed genuine, before passing me to get to her seat, Billy glaring at the back of her head as she went. 

"Miss Valens, would you like to request a song or artist?"

The brunette tapped her chin pensively. "I feel like Bob Dylan's always a safe bet, something from his earlier years."

Billy scoffed. "Seriously?"

"I love Bob Dylan," I said defensively, and his sneer fell from his face. "He's a pioneer; everything we listen to is informed by him; he's the master of talk-singing. Do you happen to have Bringing It All Back Home?" I asked Mrs. Mueller hopefully.

"Of course I do." She held up the tattered record sleeve. "Got it when it first came out."

I sat across from Billy, who was grumbling to himself angrily. "You don't really have a right to be annoyed; she did ask you first, after all."

"I'm not annoyed- I don't give a shit what we listen to- I just want this day to be over already." He rested his chin on top of his folded arms, staring off into space.