Luckily there were just three classes until lunch, and Mikey said "see you at lunch": that's at least something to look forward to. I swallow hard and hope nothing happens to me in these classes. Thankfully, it's Music, English and Art where the teachers all like me. Unfortunately, I know for a fact Mikey didn't take these classes after scanning over his timetable hopefully. That hurts. I find one person in the whole school who actually said he would like to talk to me and he has all opposite classes from me.

English is first on the time table, it goes fast without a hitch. I leave quickly on the bell, afraid of whatever might happen if I linger. Then I go to music and do nothing, like everyone else. The teacher is rarely in and if she is insists I try and play guitar. I don't bring my guitar in with me to school though in the fear somebody would do something horrid to it. I love the god-damned instrument too much.

Art doesn't go as well though. I get paired with a boy to do a portrait of him, and vice-versa. I don't honestly know the boy, he has blonde hair and a round face. He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would draw you with bleeding eyes and white-stained lips. Don't judge a book by it's cover. I sigh at how good his drawing is, it really looks like me, letting out a scream with white dripping down pink lips. It really hurts..

I gaze at my own drawing of the boy, he just smiles up at me. I want to cry. What did I do?

I leave the class "to visit the toilet" at that point. I don't return, I just wait until the bell for lunch and try not to cry. When the bell finally rings the only thought on my mind is Mikey. Find my new friend, cling to him like he's all I've got.

I find Mikey in the cafeteria, standing looking lost. He greets me with an awkward half smile and I instantly feel like I'm not alone.

"Hi," I grin. "What's up?"

Mikey smiles back.

"Nothing: I just can't find Gerard, that's all." he shrugs, looking round the room for his brother.

Then I spot a boy with the exact same hoodie as me on. He runs to Mikey. He doesn't speak. He just stands there.

Mikey awkwardly points me out to Gerard.

"Gerard, this is Frank."

Gerard doesn't really give me much of a second look until he spots my hoodie. He yanks my arm up and holds our arms together so that our matching sleeves that read "Misfits" make us look very similar.

I'm mesmerised by this seemingly crazy boy. He has dyed black hair that hangs messily around deep brown eyes, his face is soft and very pale. Like me. He looks pained too. I wonder if he really is just like me.

Then Gerard drops my arm and looks around the cafeteria where nearly the whole school were sitting chatting and eating. On the most part. Gerard wrinkles his nose.

"Mikey. I don't like here. Can we get food and leave?" he says quietly so Mikey and me only hear.

Mikey nods. He doesn't seem to keen on the idea of sitting amongst the people in the room either. I was glad I wasn't alone. If I did eat at lunch it would be a flask of soup I'd brought and I'd eat it outside on the steps where people rarely went.

Gerard goes instantly over to the vending machine. He forces a dollar into it and presses his nose up against the glass. Then he seems to have made his choice. He presses a button then reaches in and grabs a ham sandwich. I frown quite a bit at the meat, but then, it's not my choice what he eats.

Gerard passes half the sandwich to Mikey. I watch as the brothers share. I never shared with people. Sharing was beyond me.

I followed the two boys as they walked outside quite briskly.

"Frank?" Mikey asks "Where's a good place to go?"

I smile, feeling useful.

"The steps. Here, follow me." I reply, leading them through a couple of corridors and out through a fire door you weren't strictly supposed to use unless there was a fire. I didn't really care.

Mikey nods in approval, the steps are hidden in a little gap between two school buildings with grass and a few flowers growing from when the biology department used to use this area as a garden. They had the fancy green houses they had been investing in for so long, now. It meant nobody would come outside and we could just laze about.

I sit on the bottom step and look at Mikey. He is nibbling around the edge of his sandwich crust whereas Gerard has already eaten the bread and was tearing bits of ham apart and throwing them around carelessly.

"Frank. You never got food!" Mikey suddenly realised. Gerard notices too and seemingly trying to be nice he holds out a strip of ham. I shudder and push his hand away.

"I don't eat meat. I don't eat much, actually." I tell the two, who don't seem fazed.

Mikey shrugs it off. He doesn't say anything about it unlike most people who find out I'm a vegetarian, a couple of months ago a boy in our grade had found out and had force fed me bits of a half eaten burger. I shake off the memory then give Mikey and Gerard a little smile. Gerard seems kind of put off the ham now.

"It's okay, I don't mind others eating it. I won't try and convert them. It's up to me what I eat, not what others eat." I explain.

Gerard cocks an eyebrow.

"You don't look like you eat at all." he states blankly, his voice barely a whisper. I feel myself burning red.

Mikey punches his brother on the arm and hisses something before turning apologetically to me.

"Sorry, Frank, Gerard didn't mean to be so crude- Did you Gerard?" Mikey turns to his brother and gives him a very meaningful stare.

Gerard shakes his head twice.

"Nope." he barely apologises properly. He is too busy poking Mikey in the ribs in revenge for the punch.

Mikey giggles as Gerard pokes him in the ribs and soon is gasping for Gerard to stop. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an inhaler, he quickly takes a puff then embarrassingly shoves it back into his pocket. Gerard looks away like nothing happened. I don't dare to make a comment either.

"Don't do that to me, Gee." Mikey wheezes, clutching his sides. I feel sorry for the skinny, blonde haired boy. Having asthma would be pretty bad.

Gerard doesn't say anything. I don't really give it much of a thought. Gerard doesn't seem like he really has much to say.

"So are you going to ask how come we came to this school?" Mikey asked, I heard the smile in his voice.

I gave him an interested look. He nodded then cleared his throat, he had clearly been preparing a little story.

"Okay, so we were just minding our own business at lunch at our last school when this boy goes into my bag and takes my inhaler. I jump up to grab him but he pushes me over and I land on my back which winds me: so I really need my inhaler. Then as I lie there begging for my inhaler back, Gerard jumps up and punches the guy so hard in the face that his nose cracks and blood starts spewing from it. And Gerard grabs my inhaler and gives me it whilst basically hugging me, then he gets called…he gets called an incestuous fag." Mikey giggles "And Gerard punches the guy who called him that square in the jaw and screams "JUST BECAUSE I HUG MY FUCKING LITTLE BROTHER - WHO IS CLEARLY IN SOME DEGREE OF PAIN, THAT MEANS I'M FUCKING INTO HIM? THAT'S JUST SICK" and he kicks the guy in the balls and the guy falls over on top of a table. The next thing you know I'm being comforted by the deputy head as Gerard gets expelled by the head. And that's how we winded up here. I couldn't stay in that place without Gee." He finishes with a triumphant smile. I instantly realise what he means by Gerard sticking up for him.

"That's cool, Gerard, I don't know many people who would do that." I tell the black haired boy who seems oblivious to the world.

"Would you do that?" Gerard asks instantly. "Would you scream and kick if somebody you loved was getting put through pain?"

I instantly imagined my Mom being hurt then imagined myself screaming and crying, I don't know what I'd do. But I lie.

"I can't think of anybody I'd do that for. I don't have anyone, really." I whisper.

Gerard nods.

"If there's one thing I noticed in this school, it's that everyone is close together. That is, except you." Gerard notes.

I swallow hard and nod.

"Nobody likes me, really. I suppose I just try and stay out of their way" I say passively, picking at my shoes.

Gerard doesn't look like he's going to accept that.

"You mean you get bullied?" He half asks, half states. He seems very confident even though he speaks very quietly and very softly.

I nod.

"What do they do?" he asks, his tone isn't the same as last time, it's more interest, and strangely comforting. I don't like to talk, I don't even know why I've found myself talking to these complete strangers. But I know it feels nice to be just talking to somebody.

"Hit me, punch me, trip me over, bang my head against lockers, force-feed me bits of burger, lock me in lockers, take my things and hide them… call me stuff. Like fag. Piece o' shit. Worthless…" I trail off. I've said enough already, I feel like they are all watching me rat them out to a boy I don't even know.

Gerard looks repulsed.

"Why?" He whispers. It doesn't seem like a question. "Mikey used to get that. All the time, and what the hell did Mikey do? What the hell did you do?" He poses all these questions and I open my mouth to answer but he stops me "Fuck all. That's what." He finishes.

I suddenly feel like I'm taking quite well to Gerard. And Mikey. Why had they not come to my school before? They were the nicest people I had met in a long time. That was until Gerard opened his mouth again.

"But they call you fag. Are you gay?"

I go bright red and shake my head.

"Nope. No. But I think that homophobia is gay…" I answer too quickly. Gerard laughs.

"I like that." He says softly. Then he goes quiet again and shoves a pair of earphones in. I look from my shoe to Gerard, from Gerard to Mikey. Mikey looks kind of dumbstruck. But not too bothered. He seems to keep a straight face a lot of the time.

"He doesn't normally speak that much." Mikey tells me in a barely audible whisper. "He must like you. And he normally doesn't like my friends."

I grin at Mikey, I don't know why. I just feel so amazing to know that I have two people in the whole school that like me.

And I don't think about anything else for the whole day. I don't think about the bullies or the other kids. They aren't worth it now that Mikey and Gerard are at school. I don't lose this train of thought until I reach my house. Instead I feel instantly proud that I'm going to go in and smile at my Mom properly.

I knock on the door first then slowly push it open. My Mom instantly greets me from the living room, she is sitting on the sofa watching television.

"Frankie, how was school?" she calls, indicating me to come to her with her left hand. I drop my bag and slip of my shoes before joining her on the sofa.

"Great, thanks, Mom." I smile, trying to show her I really mean it.

But she just sighs.

"Frankie, I know you get a rough time, you can tell me. I'm your mom, you can-" I cut her off.

"You never believe me though. I'm going to practice guitar." I say as I head up stairs. She knows I won't come down again that evening, not even for dinner. I hear her sigh as I close my bedroom door.

And I'm safe again. In my own haven, a room with three guitars, a little amp and a very extensive CD collection. I flop down on my bed. I was hard on my Mom sometimes, but I wasn't in the mood for her lectures on feeling safe talking to her. I didn't care.

I pick up my favourite guitar, a white les paul.

I scramble my fingers down the fret board, feeling the calming sensation I get when I play. I play a few chords and strum through some songs I wrote myself, singing quietly along. This is when I feel safest. Music surrounds me and I feel comforted.

After nearly two hours I put down my guitar and lay back on my bed. It's not even late, only 6:30. I smell something cooking downstairs but I'm still not hungry, even though I hadn't eaten anything all day.

I lie there for a while longer before I hear my Mom shouting.

"Frank! Dinner!" She calls.

"I'm not hungry!" I yell back, and she doesn't reply.

Then five minutes later there is a very loud knock on my door and she just barges in. I just stare at her blankly.

"Frank Anthony Iero, you come downstairs and eat or I swear I will take your guitar." she yells, getting frustrated.

I just shrug.

"I mean it, Frank. You're hardly eating and I don't want you taking ill, so god help you if you aren't downstairs in the next five minutes!" she shouts as she leaves my room.

I don't even pay attention to her warning, I just pull my legs up to my chest and lie like that, content enough not moving. And not eating.

It had been a better day than I had expected, even if that meant I had still had my smashed against a metal locker which had left a very slight bump. I realised that as I lay with my head in my hands during biology after lunch. It was sore to touch, but I didn't think much of it. It would clear up and go away, unlike most of the things that went wrong in my life. Number one there being that I couldn't remember the last time I felt truly happy with who I was. I was reminded everyday that I was too small, too skinny, a waste of space… fag. That was the one that stuck most. Fag. Fag. Fag, fucking fag.

It hurt the most too. I could mainly get over the other names but I nearly cracked down the edges each time somebody called me that. I wondered what was keeping me together. I wasn't going to pretend I was happy. Sure, I had met two new people who might of considered me a possible friend - but I didn't even really know them. The only thing I knew is that one had bad asthma and got picked on but had a great personality even so and that that the other one was outstandingly quiet and quite blatant. And liked Misfits and had the same hoodie as me. But that didn't matter.

After a week or so they'd probably come to their senses and side of with everyone else. It was inevitable.

I hear my name called angrily from downstairs once more and quickly come to my senses. I slide out of bed reluctantly and nearly drag myself downstairs: fuelled on the prospect that Mom would leave me alone if I at least made an effort to eat, even just a forkful.

I wander into the kitchen and see what she had prepared - the only vegetarian meal she knew how to cook, vegetarian lasagne. I stare at the plate of sloppy looking food, it didn't look honestly all that appetising.

"Eat." Mom tells me sternly. "It's not bad for you, you know, Frank."

I slip into the chair at the table and take a forkful of food. I can't be bothered.

I eat what's on my fork and swallow quickly, it's gone quite cold. I don't even want dinner. I eat more and more, starting to feel ill. Mom doesn't move from the table where she has finished her own food, but doesn't seem like she will leave until I am too.

I finally finish the plateful and feel sick and tired, if I eat, I'd rather snack than eat a whole meal.

"See, that's better. Feel's good, doesn't it?" Mom smiles.

I nearly gag. My mouth tastes horrible. But I nod, then make my way straight to my room where I just collapse on my bed.

And it all starts over again.