Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Homesick at Spacecamp
Chapter Seven: I'm always the last to know
8 reviewsEmily flys off the handle at Joe, and then realises that they know her better than she thinks
1Moving
A month passed. An entire month. 7 letters were sent, 5 were received. 12 phone calls were made, 9 of which were answered. 19 emails were sent, 9 of which piled up in Emily's inbox. Emily spent almost all her spare time with Hanna-Bella, their friendship building a strong foundation. But the nights were the hardest; crumpled Kleenex littered Emily's bedroom floor, and she slept in Patrick's Greenday shirt every night. Slowly but surely, Emily and the guys were losing touch.
Pete sat at his tiny desk in the room him and Patrick shared. It was a minuscule old school desk, with the legs raised up on cement bricks so that he could fit his legs underneath. It was hardly the desk a lyricist would write and album at, but he had to make do. Money was tight. He sighed and turned back to the paper that he had been scribbling on for weeks;
Homesick at space camp.
Calm before the storm...and the sun burnt out tonight.
A better kiss that never lasts.
Three lyrics. In the month and two weeks they had been in this stupid apartment, Pete had written three lyrics.
Patrick was alone in the livingroom; Joe and Andy were out somewhere, and Pete had locked himself in their room yet again, attempting to write. Patrick had a music workbook on his lap, a pencil behind his ear. The workbook lay open to a blank page, and he was absently scribbling notes on the blank lines. Bored, he glanced up from the book at surveyed the small apartment; plain, white walls, ugly blue, cigarette burned carpets. The kitchen was visible from where he sat; they couldn't afford a table, so they ate off of a picnic blanket on the floor. Patrick looked up at the ceiling; there was a dim light in the middle of the living room that held two light bulbs. He then surveyed the living room before him; the only furniture was a hideous old sofa that was a sickly orange color, and a battered old wooden coffee table. And on the coffee table sat the picture frame that Emily had given Patrick for his birthday, by far the most beautiful thing in the room. It's dazzling silver glittered in the sunlight that was coming in through the window behind the sofa. Patrick smiled sadly as he stared at Emily's grinning face, tears of laughter in her brilliant gray eyes. That had been a fun day; it was the day Emily, Patrick and Joe had all graduated. Pete and Andy had, of course, come to watch the ceremony. Patrick, Joe and Emily were all clad in graduation robes of blue, and in the picture, only Patrick wore his hat. Patrick felt a pang of mixed emotions; his heart was soaring at the memory of that day, but then it immediately sank at the thought of Emily, and how she wasn't there. Patrick felt the hot rush of tears to his eyes, so he leaned forward, and turned the picture frame around so he didn't have to look at Emily's beautiful face.
It was a Saturday night when Emily got the phone call from Joe.
"Hey, Em Didja get my letter?"
"Uh...no."
"Oh...well, I sent one."
"It must've gotten lost, that happened to one that Patrick sent."
"Oh...well, I sent one."
"You just repeated yourself, love." Emily told him with a smile.
"Meh," he replied indifferently, shrugging, "Anyways, what are you doing in the next couple of weeks?"
"Nothing, really. It's my birthday soon...why?"
"We-ell...me'n the others were talking, aaand...we're wondering if maybe you can make a trip over here for a week or two?"
"Ehmigod, YES " Emily cried excitedly.
Joe smiled.
"That's great. Listen, our apartment really isn't much-"
"Oh, Joe, I don't care "
"No, Emily, I mean, it really isn't much..."
There was a pause, and Emily heard Pete yell in the background;
"We own two pieces of living room furniture."
Emily's eyes widened.
"Joe, what did Pete say?"
"Uh...well, we only have a couch and a coffee table-"
"Why didn't you tell me? I have more money right now than the four of you put together, I could have gone a got you a couple of chairs, or something What about the kitchen? God, please tell me you have a table "
"Um...no, actually...we have a picnic blanket on the floor, though."
Emily squeezed her eyes shut and sighed heavily. She pushed her dark bangs out of her eyes, and held them pressed against her forehead with her palm.
"Joseph Mark Trohman, please explain why you don't have enough furniture for four people, and I have more than enough." she whispered snappishly.
"Em, that stuff is /yours/, we didn't want to take it-"
"You need it more than I do! I have a couch, a coffee table, a shelf, barstool, a buffet, and I just bought two chairs for the living room But I don't need it You should have accepted my offer to lend you some of this when you moved "
"Emily, chill "
"And what's your bedroom arrangement?"
"Andy and I share the smaller one, Pete and Patrick share the bigger one. Andy and I both have twin beds, and we share a dresser and a closet. Pete and Patrick have the bigger one because the desk is in there...they both have twin beds, too."
"What kind of desk?"
Joe gulped. Emily was not going to like this.
"It's an old school desk propped up on cement bricks." he mumbled finally.
"WHAT? YOU FOUR ARE WRITING A RECORD AT A SCHOOL DESK? " Emily exploded into the phone, and Joe pulled his ear back slightly.
"Emily, we've been telling you we need jobs, money's tight right now-"
"I don't fucking care You have been telling me for months that 'money's tight', that's all I've heard You NEVER mentioned the fact that you're living in an empty apartment "
"Emily, we didn't want to bother you with our little problem, all we need is jobs, then it'll be-"
"Listen to me, Joe-"
But Joe didn't listen. He snapped.
"EMILY, would you just LISTEN " he screamed, "ALL of our money went towards moving here, so we can make our record ALL of our money went towards renting this crummy apartment We took all the furniture we own, and we didn't want to run crying to you because it's not fancy Andy's just got a job, he pays for groceries. Patrick, Pete and I are all looking for jobs, and it will be FINE in a while, okay? But no, you just fucking FLY OFF THE HANDLE because we never mentioned this Did it ever occur to you that we KNOW you're a wreck, and we didn't want to give you more reasons to cry yourself to sleep? "
Silence. Everyone on Joe's end was quiet, sitting squished together on the ugly orange sofa. Emily sat silently at the kitchen counter, her mouth hanging open.
"I...I don't cry mys-self to sleep." Emily stuttered finally in a hushed voice, her shock in every note.
"Emily, we know you better than that. Are you forgetting than the night we told you we were moving, you climbed into bed with Patrick and I and we cried ourselves to sleep?" Joe replied gently.
"Yes..." Emily said meekly, beginning to cry.
"Emily, we've called you at midnight, and you've had tears in your voice."
"That was only a couple times You've only called me nine times anyways, this makes ten "
Joe ignored her.
"Emily, what do you sleep in every night?"
Emily lowered her head.
"Patrick's old Greenday shirt." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Joe nodded slowly.
"See, Emily, we know you better than you think. We know what you're like; after you broke up with Kevin Jackman in the eleventh grade, you lived in that shirt. Now do you see why we didn't want to bother you with the fact that we have no furniture?"
"I'm...I'm so sorry, Joe, I made a big deal out of this."
"S'ok, Em. I have to go now, this long distance call's gonna cost us big time."
"I'll pay for it."
"No, you won't." Joe replied firmly.
"I am bringing you some furniture; I am buying you a table...no, a desk."
"No. Listen, Emily, get down here as soon as you can. I'll email you the address."
"Okay."
"Bye, Em- oh, and Patrick says that he has been asking for that shirt back since we were fifteen, and he gives up."
Emily smiled weakly.
"Bye."
She hung up, and slowly crawled off the stool. She slowly walked down the hall to her bedroom, and she shut the door behind her. Off came her tight tank top, off came her bra, and she was in the Greenday shirt in seconds. She took a deep breath and lowered herself shakily onto her bed in a sitting position. I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry- and
then the picture of the five of them stuck in the frame of her mirror caught her eye; she threw herself onto her pillow in a fit of tears, and cried herself to sleep, her heart aching for the warm sensation of Patrick's arms around her and Joe's fingers in her hair.
A million miles away, Pete sat at his desk, staring at the pathetic lyrics he has written. He placed his pencil on the paper and wrote one more;
Another night alone in the city.
Pete sat at his tiny desk in the room him and Patrick shared. It was a minuscule old school desk, with the legs raised up on cement bricks so that he could fit his legs underneath. It was hardly the desk a lyricist would write and album at, but he had to make do. Money was tight. He sighed and turned back to the paper that he had been scribbling on for weeks;
Homesick at space camp.
Calm before the storm...and the sun burnt out tonight.
A better kiss that never lasts.
Three lyrics. In the month and two weeks they had been in this stupid apartment, Pete had written three lyrics.
Patrick was alone in the livingroom; Joe and Andy were out somewhere, and Pete had locked himself in their room yet again, attempting to write. Patrick had a music workbook on his lap, a pencil behind his ear. The workbook lay open to a blank page, and he was absently scribbling notes on the blank lines. Bored, he glanced up from the book at surveyed the small apartment; plain, white walls, ugly blue, cigarette burned carpets. The kitchen was visible from where he sat; they couldn't afford a table, so they ate off of a picnic blanket on the floor. Patrick looked up at the ceiling; there was a dim light in the middle of the living room that held two light bulbs. He then surveyed the living room before him; the only furniture was a hideous old sofa that was a sickly orange color, and a battered old wooden coffee table. And on the coffee table sat the picture frame that Emily had given Patrick for his birthday, by far the most beautiful thing in the room. It's dazzling silver glittered in the sunlight that was coming in through the window behind the sofa. Patrick smiled sadly as he stared at Emily's grinning face, tears of laughter in her brilliant gray eyes. That had been a fun day; it was the day Emily, Patrick and Joe had all graduated. Pete and Andy had, of course, come to watch the ceremony. Patrick, Joe and Emily were all clad in graduation robes of blue, and in the picture, only Patrick wore his hat. Patrick felt a pang of mixed emotions; his heart was soaring at the memory of that day, but then it immediately sank at the thought of Emily, and how she wasn't there. Patrick felt the hot rush of tears to his eyes, so he leaned forward, and turned the picture frame around so he didn't have to look at Emily's beautiful face.
It was a Saturday night when Emily got the phone call from Joe.
"Hey, Em Didja get my letter?"
"Uh...no."
"Oh...well, I sent one."
"It must've gotten lost, that happened to one that Patrick sent."
"Oh...well, I sent one."
"You just repeated yourself, love." Emily told him with a smile.
"Meh," he replied indifferently, shrugging, "Anyways, what are you doing in the next couple of weeks?"
"Nothing, really. It's my birthday soon...why?"
"We-ell...me'n the others were talking, aaand...we're wondering if maybe you can make a trip over here for a week or two?"
"Ehmigod, YES " Emily cried excitedly.
Joe smiled.
"That's great. Listen, our apartment really isn't much-"
"Oh, Joe, I don't care "
"No, Emily, I mean, it really isn't much..."
There was a pause, and Emily heard Pete yell in the background;
"We own two pieces of living room furniture."
Emily's eyes widened.
"Joe, what did Pete say?"
"Uh...well, we only have a couch and a coffee table-"
"Why didn't you tell me? I have more money right now than the four of you put together, I could have gone a got you a couple of chairs, or something What about the kitchen? God, please tell me you have a table "
"Um...no, actually...we have a picnic blanket on the floor, though."
Emily squeezed her eyes shut and sighed heavily. She pushed her dark bangs out of her eyes, and held them pressed against her forehead with her palm.
"Joseph Mark Trohman, please explain why you don't have enough furniture for four people, and I have more than enough." she whispered snappishly.
"Em, that stuff is /yours/, we didn't want to take it-"
"You need it more than I do! I have a couch, a coffee table, a shelf, barstool, a buffet, and I just bought two chairs for the living room But I don't need it You should have accepted my offer to lend you some of this when you moved "
"Emily, chill "
"And what's your bedroom arrangement?"
"Andy and I share the smaller one, Pete and Patrick share the bigger one. Andy and I both have twin beds, and we share a dresser and a closet. Pete and Patrick have the bigger one because the desk is in there...they both have twin beds, too."
"What kind of desk?"
Joe gulped. Emily was not going to like this.
"It's an old school desk propped up on cement bricks." he mumbled finally.
"WHAT? YOU FOUR ARE WRITING A RECORD AT A SCHOOL DESK? " Emily exploded into the phone, and Joe pulled his ear back slightly.
"Emily, we've been telling you we need jobs, money's tight right now-"
"I don't fucking care You have been telling me for months that 'money's tight', that's all I've heard You NEVER mentioned the fact that you're living in an empty apartment "
"Emily, we didn't want to bother you with our little problem, all we need is jobs, then it'll be-"
"Listen to me, Joe-"
But Joe didn't listen. He snapped.
"EMILY, would you just LISTEN " he screamed, "ALL of our money went towards moving here, so we can make our record ALL of our money went towards renting this crummy apartment We took all the furniture we own, and we didn't want to run crying to you because it's not fancy Andy's just got a job, he pays for groceries. Patrick, Pete and I are all looking for jobs, and it will be FINE in a while, okay? But no, you just fucking FLY OFF THE HANDLE because we never mentioned this Did it ever occur to you that we KNOW you're a wreck, and we didn't want to give you more reasons to cry yourself to sleep? "
Silence. Everyone on Joe's end was quiet, sitting squished together on the ugly orange sofa. Emily sat silently at the kitchen counter, her mouth hanging open.
"I...I don't cry mys-self to sleep." Emily stuttered finally in a hushed voice, her shock in every note.
"Emily, we know you better than that. Are you forgetting than the night we told you we were moving, you climbed into bed with Patrick and I and we cried ourselves to sleep?" Joe replied gently.
"Yes..." Emily said meekly, beginning to cry.
"Emily, we've called you at midnight, and you've had tears in your voice."
"That was only a couple times You've only called me nine times anyways, this makes ten "
Joe ignored her.
"Emily, what do you sleep in every night?"
Emily lowered her head.
"Patrick's old Greenday shirt." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Joe nodded slowly.
"See, Emily, we know you better than you think. We know what you're like; after you broke up with Kevin Jackman in the eleventh grade, you lived in that shirt. Now do you see why we didn't want to bother you with the fact that we have no furniture?"
"I'm...I'm so sorry, Joe, I made a big deal out of this."
"S'ok, Em. I have to go now, this long distance call's gonna cost us big time."
"I'll pay for it."
"No, you won't." Joe replied firmly.
"I am bringing you some furniture; I am buying you a table...no, a desk."
"No. Listen, Emily, get down here as soon as you can. I'll email you the address."
"Okay."
"Bye, Em- oh, and Patrick says that he has been asking for that shirt back since we were fifteen, and he gives up."
Emily smiled weakly.
"Bye."
She hung up, and slowly crawled off the stool. She slowly walked down the hall to her bedroom, and she shut the door behind her. Off came her tight tank top, off came her bra, and she was in the Greenday shirt in seconds. She took a deep breath and lowered herself shakily onto her bed in a sitting position. I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry- and
then the picture of the five of them stuck in the frame of her mirror caught her eye; she threw herself onto her pillow in a fit of tears, and cried herself to sleep, her heart aching for the warm sensation of Patrick's arms around her and Joe's fingers in her hair.
A million miles away, Pete sat at his desk, staring at the pathetic lyrics he has written. He placed his pencil on the paper and wrote one more;
Another night alone in the city.
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