Build Me Up, Margerinecup
By a.j.
The first thought that registered in his mind was "Big." When he went to Horace Green Preparatory Elementary School, and then Candace Ferguson Preparatory Middle High School the schools were, admittingly, relatively small. They still had to house a zoo of children of all ages yet seemed to remain cozy. They were familiar and warm and made of red brick with bright classrooms with interesting globes and posters that told him he could do anything if he really wanted to. Well, okay, so at the time he thought that the posters were complete shit and the rooms were too small, too confining, too close to everybody else and too fucking preppy. But now, now he longs for the classrooms of old.
Now all he sees are a bunch of ants milling into their giant ant hole, except these ants are bigger and scarier and he knows they'll do whatever the fuck they want to do, especially if that includes beating up skinny, dark-haired fags. Because he just knows that all of those jocks over there? They have perfect gaydar. They can sense him from a mile away, they must know the smell, the smell of the homo. And he knows they'll be coming his way.
He looks over and sees Freddy running up to him. They had called each other the night before and planned out their outfits for the first day of public school, so he already knew what Freddy would be wearing. Black, baggy pants with those red striped up the side. Red t-shirt. Red wrist band. Hair spiked to perfection. And he looked exactly has he had in Zack's dream: like an angel.
Well, okay, an angel who looked like he was trying too hard to be punk, but an angel nonetheless.
And for himself? He looked more like a dog than an angel. His hair was messy, but he kind of liked it that way. He was going to wear his giant Metallica shirt, but his mother forbade him to ever wear "that dirty, nasty, ratty shirt" ever again, so it was hanging up in his closet in all its faded, giant glory. Instead, he wore his new Metallica shirt, this one very, very fitted because he supposed his mother had wanted to go the opposite way when she bought it for him. He wore dark jeans with this and a studded belt and he just knew it, just knew it, everyone just knew he was gay. Damn the tight shirt. Damn it to hell.
Freddy had gotten to him, surveyed the shirt and wrinkled his nose.
"It makes you look like a fag."
He grinned at Zack and laughed, loud and raucous and Zack blushed.
"Uh, my mom got it for me. Let's go in."
"Okay."
And they joined the militia of ants, marching two by two to their classes.
Chemistry sucked. Yeah. There was no way around it. Because, well, he could stand Biology. That was actually kind of cool. You got to dissect frogs and shit, and you got to learn how things worked, and he thought that was really interesting. True, he couldn't pee or shit without thinking about kidneys and shit, but it was pretty much the only class he got an A in freshman year. Besides English, that is.
And it wasn't like he got a D in the rest of his classes, like Freddy. He got those two A's, three B's and one C, which was in Spanish. But that was okay, because he was only grounded for a few weeks, not a month like Freddy.
Of course, he had a D in Chemistry at the moment which he found way too hard to be any kind of fun at all. Because really, when would he need to know in life how many electrons were in the stupid cloud or whatever. He didn't see why balancing molecules would help him in any way in his musical career, unless he decided to become one of those educational children's singers like Raffi or The Wiggles. He could just imagine it now.
"So stick your tongue down your best friend's throat! Come on kids! Do it now! See! Isn't that fun! Sing with me! Waffle the Walrus was a queer! So he licked his best friend's ear! And when he got that low-down tingle he screwed him in the rear! Hey! Left side of the room starts, right side of the room after! Make it a round! LEFT SIDE! Waffle the Walrus..."
On second thought. Hey, sing what you know, right? Or was that "write what you know."
And okay, he had seriously been hanging out with Freddy for too long if his thoughts were this scattered.
Right at that moment, a piece of paper flew across the room and hit him in the head. It ricocheted onto his desk and then on to the floor. At that moment, his Chemistry teacher decided that it would be the perfect time to turn around from the board and lecture on whatever the hell he was lecturing about for a billion hours.
Conveniently enough, Zack's desk happened to be at the front of the classroom, not four feet away from where Mr. Henderson was talking.
As quickly and fluidly as he could, he slipped his feet out from under his desk and sideways so that they covered the piece of paper on the ground. Zack did his best to look casual, swinging one leg over the other. Time seemed to pass like a turtle sludging through chocolate fudge on a July afternoon when the fudge was boiling and sticking to the sidewalk which was made out of jell-o. He was never listening in the first place, but suddenly it seemed as though Mr. Henderson's lips were moving in slow-motion and his voice dropped about three octaves. And then, he couldn't hear words anymore, just a low drone of a muted trombone like he was fucking Charlie Brown or something. He started jiggling the foot what was leaning on his knee, getting impatient.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Mooneyham?"
And then, the room got about fifty degrees hotter. Because of the heat, he stopped jiggling his foot to conserve energy. The same energy that was being poured out of his forehead in liquid form at top speeds.
"Um, so Sir, I'm fine, er, Sir."
Mr. Henderson frowned at him and then resumed his droning, and since Zack's ears were now at top working conditions he could hear some very Freddy-sounding snickering from the back of the room. Thankfully, Mr. Henderson soon turned around to face the board and explain something or whatever and Zack immediately reached down and got the paper out from under his foot. He quickly and not-so-quietly opened it in his lap, his whole body happy to see the familiar, boyish scribbling.
I'm wearing your underwear.
Zack looked up, made sure that Mr. Henderson was busy, and shot a quick glance at the back of the room. Freddy was smirking at him- fucking smirking- and his converse were on top of the desk, his legs crossed.
Zack smiled back and looked back down at the note, reading it over and over, the words imprinted in his mind.
I'm wearing your underwear. I'm wearing your underwear. I'm wearing your underwear. I'm wearing your underwear.
So Chemistry class wasn't so bad. When you thought about it.
They met up after class, thankful that science came right before lunch. Freddy practically trotted over to Zack, blowing off whatever friend he had been talking to and wrapping his arm over the other boy's shoulders, hyper as always.
"How's it shakin', bacon?"
Zack looked around, nervous, and was absolutely fucking certain he saw a few people point and stare.
Freddy! He's hanging out with that fag! Is he a fag? Oh my God they're doing it. Ew, those freaks should be kicked out of school. I'll kick them out of school myself. I'll kill them. Might as well. They're just fagging up the world. Fags.
"Freddy!" He took the offending arm off of his shoulder and worked hard not to look at his blonde sex god. Oh God, His blonde sex god. Shut up, bad thoughts. Right, people staring, hating. Freddy. Why did I wait this long? Bad silence. "Um, don't you think it'll look a little weird if we're buddy buddy all of a sudden?"
The boy next to him shrugged. "So? Let them think what they want to think."
"I don't want those people to kill you."
"Nobody wants to kill us."
"Freddy, they're whispering and pointing and staring and laughing."
Freddy rolled his eyes and shoved his boyfriend-boyfriend? Nice thought-playfully.
"Dude, you think too much. Nobody is pointing or staring or whispering or laughing. Nobody is paying attention to us. Nobody."
Zack wasn't so sure, because after all that group of shadows? It always followed him. And laughed. And pointed. And whispered. It was, like, his little shadow. But if Freddy said they didn't exist…
And then he was pulled into the bathroom.
As if the gods had suddenly decided that they loved Zack, it was completely empty. Still, Freddy dragged Zack by the collar into an empty stall, which he promptly pushed him up against. And like rain on the desert or some equally as girly and fucking stupid metaphor, Freddy's lips crushed against his.
They became a giant blob of a person, all teeth and lips and hands and legs, just moving and making those little noises and Zack's wasn't even sure who was who anymore but fuck it felt so good and right and why didn't he kiss Freddy earlier again because he could have saved himself years of angst and anger and sexual frustration but oh maybe all the frustration was getting out and it made it this good and shut up and stop thinking, Mooneyham. They didn't separate into two separate people for a long while, until Zack was quite sure lunch was almost over and they had officially just spent a half an hour making out in the dirtiest place in school. Finally, it was like he exhaled all of Freddy out of him and they emerged from the bathroom stall, very much sweaty and dirty and very not unhappy anymore.
"Come on Zack, let's get some food!" His voice was almost a whine, which made Zack furrow his brow.
"Freddy, the bell is about to ring."
"But I'm hungry."
Zack sighed. He didn't even have to look, he knew that Freddy was giving him those goddamn puppy eyes that he fell for every time. He didn't even have to look this time to fall, hard.
"Fine."
"Yes!" he shouted, grinning to the sky. He quickly grabbed Zack's hand and dragged him down to the courtyard and up to the window to order his food. Just like Zack thought, they had been gone so long that there was no line left at all.
"I want a cheeseburger, a pizza bread, a large order of fries, and a diet coke, please!"
Zack laughed, off to the side, especially when Freddy had to carry all of the food away in the little cardboard tray they gave the kids as though that wasn't just a flimsy napkin and half as effective.
"Are you going to eat all of that?"
"No, you're sharing it with me. I got half for you."
They smiled at each other, a smile that quickly disappeared once Zack realized in which direction they were headed.
They were going straight for the hardcore punks, the same people who shouted "Fag!" at Zack in the hallway, laughed at him, and generally tried their best to make his life a living hell. And these people, he knew, weren't a figment of his imagination. He knew this because he always say Freddy with them. He was their friend.
"Freddy-"
"Don't worry, they'll like you."
"They hate me."
"They don't know you."
"They don't want to know me."
By this point, they had reached the group of people which included, much to Zack's complete lack of comfort, Crissa Harrison, girl with the platinum blonde hair, very large tits, very short plaid skirts, and, oh yeah, she was still technically Freddy's girlfriend.
The largest and most threatening-looking boy of all stood up, seeing Zack by Freddy's side.
"Dude, what the fuck are you going bringing The Fag here."
Freddy's face immediately went from Hyper Amusement to Confused Rage.
"Kevin, don't call him that, you shithead."
At this point, the girlfriend spoke up. God, even her voice annoyed Zack. How could anyone kiss somebody with a voice like that?
"Baby, why are you being this way?"
"Because Zack is cool, okay? And if I say he's cool, then he's cool. So let him hang, you guys, chill."
The Kevin guy shook his head.
"Look, dude, either you stay and it's just you or the both of you go."
Freddy looked between the two groups of people, and for the first time in almost a day Zack could remember why he got so angry in the first place
. He left before he could hear the answer, and instead all he heart was the raucous laughter of the hyenas that were Freddy and his friends.him angry.