Shit, not again.
My stomach turns as I spot them from a distance.
Standing there, smoking, dressed in sportswear, annoyingly attractive - the Jocks. Being a normal, law abiding American citizen, I'd obviously had a few run-ins with the Jocks in my time. And then I came out, and things got progressively worse...
"Anyway" I say to myself, shaking my head, " I can get through. The only lessons I have today are Art, Maths, English and Phsycology. I can make it."
I keep walking, holding my head in such a downwards direction that my long, greasy hair flops over my eyes and I nearly trip over.
Not so inconspicuous.
Shaking the hair out of my eyes, I look up and concentrate on the fact that in 6 short hours my day will be over. That thought causes my walking speed to increase.
"The faster I get there, the quicker it's over!" I cheer quietly to myself.
...
The atmosphere in the noisy art studio is almost chaotic. That fact was hardly surprising as 25 slightly hyper, "artistically licensed" (their excuse for crazy), seventeen year olds are bounding around in seach of materials they deemed neccessary for their success in the world of art.
Dashing across the room, I manouvere myself into the most secluded, quiet spot in the whole room, which people like to call the "Loner's Chair". I'm not sure whether they named it before or after I had decided to sit there, but whoever named it and for whatever reason did so, it stuck, and it stuck well (the name, not the chair. Imagine having to walk around for the rest of your life with a chair stuck to your butt...).
The task, as it had said so on the board for a few weeks now, was to create our own interpretation of beauty. Only now, I realise that my interpretation of beauty has changed. It's not the death and destruction it once was, but all the good-nature and good-natured people in the world. Like...Him. No, not God. Him.
Frank.
I tear a small piece of paper out of my notepad and begin drawing.
...
I look down at it. I had planned to draw a compilation of all the features, characteristic and qualities I like in a person, or that I think are remarkable, but I have one problem.
Everything I try to draw looks like him. Every single attempt at artwork has ended up with his beautiful, delicate features.
I laugh.
"You've really reeled me in, Frank." I say to myself, chuckling and grinning as I imagine Frank literally reeling me in.
That thought is affecting me greatly. I can't stop smiling. It's a strangely arousing thought, you know?
Unf. He's so sexy.
Surely it's not legal to be that sexy...?
Crap, he's only fourteen. Am I allowed to think of him in this way?
Heck, even if you told me right now that I wasn't, I don't think I'll be able to help myself. In the words of Basil Hallward (by far the best character in Oscar Wilde's 'A Picture of Dorian Gray'), I feel like the personality of Frank (rather than Dorian) will dominate me for a long time.
...
Maths. Maths. Maths.
I sigh. I've never really been good at it. I probably never will be. But still, it's something I have to study.
Now, under normal circumstances, I would be trying my hardest to get to grips with the principals of surds or quantum physics of whatever it is we're studying but today, as you might have noticed, there's only one thing I can think about. And no, it's not what your parents keep telling you boys 'always' think about (in fact, I hardly ever thing of 'that thing'), it is, you guessed it, Frank.
How can I have been so wholly and truly encapsulated by a person who I'd met once and whose last name I didn't even know?
I have no idea.
But love is a strange thing, isn't it?
...
The bell rings and the students that had just endured the same tediously boring maths lesson as me spill out into the corridor. I gather my belongings (my satchel in dark blue - my favourite colour -, my comics, my artwork and various homework books and study resources) and head out into the corridor. As soon as I hear the dim 'click' of the door shutting behind me, I feel my phone ringing in my pocket.
The screen reads - "MIKEY CALLING."
Sighing, I dash and dart my way through the crowds into the fairly quiet bathrooms. Thankfully, no-one is using the urinals, so I can have a civilized conversation with my brother in peace without someone shouting "GERARD, PASS THE POT!" down the phone just to embarrass me.
"Y'ello?" I say, sounding slightly peeved - I don't like getting called by my family, it makes me feel like something bad must be happening.
"Gerard.. Listen, I've..." I listen carefully as he shares the details of the events of the past hour with me.
"YOU'VE DONE WHAT?" I yell down the reciever as if he were living in the next state. Actually, I'd be surprised if people in China hadn't heard me.
He repeats what he'd just told me, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" I question furiously. I could be a really intimidating detective, you know.
"It sounded fun. And plus, he looks really funny now..." he replies nonchalantly.
"Jeez, Mikey, you 'are' an idiot sometimes, you know." I am almost tempted to laugh.
"Dude, yeah, I know, but can you help me?" he inquires.
"I have no appropriate advice, Mikey." I say with a serious tone to my voice.
"Why! Gerard, you're so useless! I don't know why I even came to you for help - you're not helping 'at all'! In fact, I might as well have gone up to the Japanese President or Prime Minister or whatever they call him over there and asked, 'Hey, do you know what to do if-"
"WELL IT WASN'T MY IDEA TO PUT A CONDOM ON THE DOGS FACE, WAS IT?"
With that, I hang up on him. Pfft!
Giggling errupts from one of the cubicles.
I know that laugh! I'd recognise it anywhere! It's in my dreams! It's...
He stepped out from the cubicle, covering his bright-red-from-laughing face with his tiny hands.
"Frank!" I exclaim in surprise, fighting the urge to pick him up and snuggle him to death.
"What the fuck, Gerard?" he says with a look of half-anger, half-amusement on his perfect face.
There is a small silence.
"Well, my brother -" I start.
"- YOU DID WHAT TO A DOG? HOW DARE YOU HURT ONE OF MY MINIONS?"
"Um... er... Well... Minions?" I say, baffled by his choice of words.
"I like dogs a lot, 'okay'? he snaps jokingly, though I assume he's deadly serious - the look on his face says enough! (Furrowed brow, narrowed eye-lids...)
I step towards him, studying his outfit. He's only wearing a plain black t-shirt, dark skinny-jeans, ankle-boots and a beanie yet he looks amazing. He looks like one of those people who wake up looking fabulous every day of their lives, wear plain outfits but still look great and have to deal with jealousy from a shit-load of people.
"I didn't know you came here?" I say, snapping myself out of my analysis. If he'd been here before, how the hell hadn't I noticed? People with faces like that couldn't lie low for long. And plus, someone with such a strange, pure, unadulterated innocence doesn't go un-appreciated.
"Uh, yeah, just moved. Dad's job..." He shoots me an uncomfortable look and I decide not to press him any further on the matter.
"So, how do you like this shit-hole of a high school?" I ask, attempting to be amusing. It probably won't work. I'm not a funny guy, really.
"I'm getting along, I suppose." he says, "I've got a few friends. I've kinda been looking forward to a fresh start and, well, it's my first day, and..."
"I hope you enjoy it!" I cheer, doing the touchy-arm thing again and looking directly into his huge hazel-eyes.
He smiles. It's a genuine smile, I can tell. His eyes light up as he smiles - it sounds cheesy, but that's how you know it's genuine. I wonder if he smiles like that all the time, or just around me. Probably all the time, he seems an amazingly earnest person...
I like him. I like him ' a lot'.
"So what did you do, out of curioisity, to the dog...?" He asks, with a slight look of worry in his eyes.
"Well... You see, my brother is bored easily, so he was just.. there and... So was the dog..." I explain.
"Oh..." He says before his speech is drowned out by the bell.
"Shit, gotta go! HAVE A NICE DAY!" I yell, dashing out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
I pant as I come to the door of my next class. Disguising my act as '"catching my breath", I ponder over the fact that 'he', Frank, is in 'my high school'. Does that mean I have more of a chance with him, or less of a chance? Will he fall for me quicker, or be so horrified by my personality as he gets to know me that he runs a mile before even a brushing of lips against cheek? Or am I that awful that he'll be running for the hills before we've even shared an in-joke or a can of coke in a local cafe? Before the first hurdle?
For me, the first kiss is the first hurdle. That simple act of pressing lips together can cement whether it's meant to be or not. They can make or break a relationship. It all counts on the fireworks. No sparks, no hope. 'Usually.'
Sometimes the most unlikely couple get together and once they discover the lack of spark in their relationship, they 'make' it work. They work and they don't stop until they've created something beautiful. Not always perfect, but always beautiful. They belong to eachother. Forever. Always.
Could I ever have that? Could I ever be the apple of someone's eye? The reason for their being? Could I ever give my heart so selflessly to someone and gain theirs in return? Is that what love means? Is it more than what you see in the movies where they get together and live happily ever after? Is love comprised of not only happiness but turbulance, angst, depression and all that makes us human?
I shook my head as I entered the classroom. I'd never meant a thing to anyone but my family.
"That first hurdle has never been reached, and I don't see it in the distance." Those words of woe echo in my mind. But they're not my only thoughts. A quiet whisper in the back of my mind, the whisper of hope, rings almost silently amongst the woeful echo. A single word, that when aknowlegdged can alter my frame of mind completely -
"Yet."
Author's Note: Sorry about how short this is compared to Lilly's Frank chapter. I cannot write in bulk at all! Anyway, yes, sorry about it. Have a lovely day/night/week/year where-ever you are, whoever you are! 3 :)