Kitty – Chapter 3

"Y'know he totally has the hots for you."

I nearly fell off the wall,

"W-what do you mean?"

I knew what he meant, Bryar. That's the only guy in this school who even looked twice at me, well maybe three time what with the whole double-takes people always did when they noticed that the weird kid was wearing ears. But Bob, he didn't just look thrice, no he stared. Constantly.

He sat a couple seats behind me and to the left in government, and I could practically feel those blue orbs burn holes into my ears. It made me want to slink away and take a bath or something, I don't know.

Frank and I were ditching last period P.E. to sit on that low wall and, in Frankie's case, smoke. I would have just gone straight home, but he said it was boring to skip by himself, so there I was, trying in vain to feign ignorance.

Frank just gave me this look before blowing smoke out the side of his mouth.

"Don't play dumb, man. An uber hot guy wants your ass and you just act all weird-loner-I-don't-need-no-man, so not helpful in the whole loss of virginity campaign."

My face burned and I regretted ever telling Frank of my lack of action. I mumbled at my shoes,

"He's just kinda creepy, always staring at me…" It was a weak excuse, we both knew it.

"Fuck, man. Just stop the ice-front and everything can be all hunky-dory."

I sighed, hopping off the wall,

"Yeah, maybe. I'll think about it, see you later Frankie."

He just huffed and lit up another cancer stick, waving me away.

I don't like wearing clothes, they feel scratchy and I get tired of poking holes in things. It's so much more comfortable to just walk around in bare skin. Of course I couldn't do that any other place than my room, so I tended to spend a lot of time there. When I ventured forth from my little sanctuary I wore the bare minimum required by the rest of the family, most of the time it was just a pair of boxers; but if we had company over or something I had to put pants on, the tail thing y'know.

I was wearing pants now, 'cause I was thirsty and the milk was all the way in the kitchen, plus Patrick was over. Patrick liked to hang out with my brother in the basement, and by 'hang out' I mean have raunchy sex. He was an okay guy though, but he seemed to think I had the same weird obsession with hats he did. I wore them out of necessity, Patrick basically worshiped them; dude was strange. But I guess that's why Gee went for him, he was nice to me anyway.

"Hey Mikes, how's it goin'? Is that a new cap? I like it." I nearly jumped outta my skin, sputtering strawberry milk all over the neatly wrapped left-overs in the fridge.

I glared at Patrick over my shoulder, none too happy with making a mess of myself, licking a couple pink drops off my wrist.

Patrick looked decidedly sexed, his clothes were mussed and his hat was askew, not mention the fucking annoying glow. He was always a little hyper after being with Gee, hence the over-excitement about my purple beanie. (which was new, I guess it was kinda nice of him to notice…maybe)

"Hello…"

He nodded, like I had said something he couldn't help but agree with, before starting to riffle through our snack cupboard. My sensitive nose kinda twitched as I caught a whiff from Gerard's basement, that could also explain the talkativeness.

I know why I was avoiding Bryar, it wasn't 'cause he was creepy or stalkerish or anything, I actually thought all the attention was kinda sweet. No, I was just scared.

Scared of what would happen if we did start anything and then he found out that I was real, I mean that everything about me was real. Afraid of the look he would give me, the disgust and pity, mostly the pity. I could handle people being grossed out by me, just not them being all sorry about it, like if they could change me they would…that they assumed I'd want to be fixed.

So, I didn't know how to react when I started getting the notes in my locker. They started out as almost-buried post-it's that I only noticed 'cause they were fucking neon pink, orange, green, or blue. Written on with ultra-fine tip Sharpie, things like:

Hi, Mikey. I think you're pretty.
Really.
I'm not usually this creepy.

Some wouldn't even have words on them, a few had little doodles of kittens playing with yarn or curled up sleeping.

Eventually, they progressed into full-blow pieces of paper, with tiny rhymes lining the edges and sketches in the center. They were a bit imperfect, the drawings, but hey I had grown up with my brother the artist so I tended to get a little judgmental. It didn't stop the shit from melting my heart a little more every time I open my locker to see a fresh ode lying neatly on top of my stack of books.

Meanwhile, he kept eating lunch with us, making no mention of the notes. But always offering me some of his goldfish crackers and somehow ending up with an extra milk everyday; which he gave me with a shrug and nearly-disguised twinkle in his blue eyes.

I would of course blush and spend the whole hour staring at the table, trying desperately not to jump him.

Frank was almost unbearable, seemed to take it on as his personal mission to squish Bob and I together and force some boy-love. Not literally of course, well it was Frankie, so yeah maybe. I guess it shouldn't have been such a surprise when it wasn't really him waiting for me at the dollar theater, well not just him.

"Mikeyway!" I cringed, escape impossible now that the little prick had spotted me. I barely prevented myself from crashing to the ground when he took a flying leap at me, of course assuming I could catch him.

I pushed him away when I regained my balance,

"Frank…" he had that look in his eye, the one that boded no good for any caught in it's maniacal clutches. He put a hand over my mouth, forcing us to walk towards the theater entrance and the blond boy slouching against it grimy wall.

"I know, I know, bad Frankie. But the guy is so in to you man, I couldn't help myself." he paused to give me a once over, "Well, at least you look descent, I could have made you better, but that would have spoiled the secret, so I'll be grateful you can dress yourself mostly in the hot factor. Though, dude," here he eyed my baggy pants with distaste, "after this we seriously need to get you some new jeans, something tighter…a lot tighter."

I didn't bother trying to explain why I couldn't wear tight stuff, that would have given the whole thing away; and as much as he annoyed me, Frank was my best friend and I didn't want to loose that.

I didn't have time to protest anyway, 'cause by then we had reached Bob and Frank was bouncing next to us. Like some sort of cupid on crack.

"Okay, okay you guys stay here and see a movie, get some kissin' in and all that shit. I'll be standing guard out here Mikey, so no running off or you know what'll happen." he attempted to look threatening, but it didn't work out too well. He forced ticket stubs into my hand and stepped back, shoeing at us to get inside.

Bob looked up from the sidewalk, giving me a ghost of a smile, and I couldn't help but follow him into the building to see whatever old movie the stubs were for.