Three Cheers for Sweethearts [Frerard AU]

PART I: Chapter 2

                  

CHAPTER 2 - THE KIDS FROM LAST YEAR

After directing Frank to his classroom, I turned back down the science hallway, passed the Chem lab, and walked into the Health room at the end of the hall. I didn't run into anyone I couldn't tolerate on the way, which I considered an achievement.

I zoned out while our teacher droned on about why we should never, ever, ever have sex or you could get pregnant and die, or get an STD and die, or somehow have sex-implemented problems and... die. The fact of the matter was, no one in the class could possibly care less, and honestly, I think even the teacher knew that.

This girl named Liza (or it might have been Lisa or Lindsey or something) started doing this thing at the beginning of the year where she turned around in her seat, making the brown ponytail that she always wore fling over her shoulder and lightly slap her face. She looked me straight in the eye, holding her gaze for a moment, then flipped her head back around (which magically put her ponytail back in place at the middle of her back). Sometimes when she did that, I would look over at her, and she'd be wearing this triumphant smile, magnified by her bright red lipstick, like she was satisfied with what she had done. It confused me to every extent why she did that – didn't she already know what I look like? Did she really forget so often that she had to take her eyes off the teacher and look at me?

By now, I'd learned to pretend she didn't exist. Act like I didn't see her at all.

As I was doodling (very on-topic images, I might add) in my notebook, I let my mind wander to my high school relationships.

I started as a freshman two years ago as a relatively new kid to the area, having moved in fifth grade. Seemingly only because the world wanted to make it that much harder for both my brother and me, we both had to face negativity from other students. We had each other to vent to on the way home after school; once I turned fifteen I always drove him home (technically a few months before it was completely legal, but by the time I got to high school, I'd already earned my permit. I just hadn't actually passed any test or gotten my license. No one really cared, and we never got ourselves into any trouble). That's when we'd talk and complain to each other. 

So my high school career had started off with me being spit on and shoved to agree. At any rate, I suffered through my first years of school here with Hunter and his little posse having funniest-name-for-Gerard contests (of which the winners were, apparently, Gerard Gay – which I was pretty sure was supposed to rhyme with my last name, Way - and Gerardine. They used those the most) and trying to see how hard they could hit me without leaving a mark. (Their logic? If they left no mark, there was no proof, so I could never tell anyone. Ha. I told my brother once, but he keeps this straight, indifferent face on all the time, so I'm not entirely sure how he felt about all of it.) But hey, I had survived the year. In fact, I had Hunter and his friends to thank for all the things I learned from him: what "gay" means, for example.

Sophomore year was a little better for me, but a little worse for Mikey. I guess Hunter and his gang were bored with me, so found some fresh material in my brother. I had no problem standing up for my brother and his straight-faced facade. No way did it not bother him, as much as he pretended it didn't. Even since I felt like I was doing the right thing in defending my little brother, it always itched at the back of my mind that Mikey never once thanked me for it. It had crossed my mind that he might not like that I was always fighting his battles for him, but even if I wanted to ask him, he'd just keep on that relaxed, straight face, maybe shrug. His indifference could be very frustrating.

Friends came and went quickly around me. I never got attached to them, nor they to me, and anyone who I'd gotten to scratch the surface with eventually lost touch. Except Ray. For some reason, he kept me around.

I didn't even remember meeting Ray that well. I knew that I always sat at his lunch table from day one of my life at Three Cheers High (Yes, yes, I'm aware that is a really dumb name for a school), but what was our first conversation? How did we end up where we are now?

I stopped moving my pencil, trying to focus on the past. Did... Did I ever have any other friends? It seemed ridiculous to me that I hadn't - there must have been someone, right? There was that one kid who gave me a dollar to buy lunch when he saw I didn't have any last year. I saw him in English later on and tried to say hi, but he didn't acknowledge me. That did quite a bit of work on my self-esteem; in order to keep his reputation up, this kid didn't want to interact with me. Fantastic. And then there was this one girl - her name was Bandit, I think - who I tried to become friends with, but she apparently was "out of my league," as Ray put it. Unaware of her social status outside classes, this was news to me. It turned out, boys were flinging themselves at her and it was no secret she was always juggling at least three men at a time. I'd had no idea. All I had wanted to do was be her friend.

I had never had a girlfriend. Not that I've ever been interested in that sort of thing. I liked the idea of having a girl as much as the next teenage guy, but honestly, I didn't even know what I'd do with one. In any case, if there were any attractive girls in this school, I hadn't seen them.

The school bell (if you could call it that - my alarm clock made a prettier noise than that thing) made me jump and I snapped out of my thoughts. I closed my notebook and stuffed it in my black backpack, which I flung over my shoulder. Liza or Lisa or Lindsey followed me out the door, making a big deal of flipping her long hair that was already perfectly fine over her right shoulder before turning the corner.

I glanced down at the page I'd been handed as I walked out of Health. It looked like a diagram of the female body. Glad I missed that lecture.

Only by the new, red, spray-painted graffiti could I tell my locker from the rest even before I could see the numbers. It wasn't any different than usual - people vandalized the lockers here all the time, but no one ever did anything about it. The writing this time read:

GERARD GAY HAS A NEW BF

I didn't even question it. Nothing ever written on my locker was even remotely close to fact; nothing ever even made any sense. Who knew where Hunter came up with these things?

Yes, yes, I was certain it was Hunter. I had my ways of knowing, but it was pretty obvious with the way he curled his As over in an arc. It was actually kind of cool like that, despite what the words said about me.

I used to make futile attempts to scrub it off, but I knew the janitors would have it painted over by Friday. They always did. Until then, I counted the blessings that came with it - it made my locker stand out so I'd be saved a few steps. At least there was something.