Behind This Smile

Sydri POV

I was pissed. Not only does he think he's better than me, he just can't fucking bring up my mother like that. Not like I was going to talk about her with him, anyway. Who the fuck did he think he was? I didn't expect him to follow me. But I heard the door close behind me and he walked in front of me. "You're going to have to go back in there," he grouched.

"Why should I? I've been told not to talk to motherfuckers like you," I bitched back. I tried pushing pass him, but he grabbed me by my shoulders. He pushed me towards the door and he kicked it open. He pushed me down into the chair, and he sat down in the other one.

"Don't even think about running out. As much as I want you to, Mr. Warlock scares me sometimes," he mumbled the last part but looked at me. "So talk. How'd your mom die?"

"Fuck you," I spat. I was not talking to him about my mom. No chance in hell would that ever happen. I stubbornly crossed my legs and arms and bit my lip. He glared at me and sighed. He held up his hands in surrender. He didn't say anything but watched the clock as the second hand made it's way around each sixty seconds. Because of him watching the clock, time seemed to be going extra slow. "If you continue watching the clock, we're never going to get out." His eyes immediatly dropped from the clock. So he wanted to get out as much as I did.

Our lunch time lasted one hour, so we still had thirty minutes to endure. I began picking at my bandages again when Gerard spoke up. "Prove to me you really don't cut." I glanced up at him and shook my head.

"I don't need to prove anything to you," I hissed. "And I don't cut." And I don't. I might've thought about once or twice, but I'm too much of a coward to pick up a razor and slide back and forth or up and down across my body.

"Then prove it to me." He wasn't going to give up. He was insistent. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He started staring and he somehow made me feel small. Like I was beginning to shrink. Reluctantly, I rolled my jacket sleeves to my elbow, tore off one of the bandages and showed him my clean wrists, but bloody palms. "What the hell...?" he began.

"I already told you, I fell. Ask your brother." I unrolled my jacket sleeves and tore off the other bandage. "Enough proof?" I glanced up at the clock. Ten more minutes. Just ten more minutes. I wasn't sure I was going to make it.

Gerard seemed satisfied with my answer and leaned back in the chair. Since he seemed like he was done talking to me, I reached inside my backpack and took out my MP3 player. I searched for the song "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana and turned the volume as loud as it would go. Whenever I had music blasting through my ears, it was impossible to think. I was unaware of everyone else around me, which ment Gerard didn't exist. Not right now, anyway.

I started tapping my feet to the beat of the drums and began mouthing along to the words. This song always seemed to calm me down. I don't know why. Maybe because what happens in the video is what I want to do to Bellville High. I listened to a few more songs by Nirvana before Gerard tapped me on the shoulder. I pulled out the earphones and turned off my MP3 player. I put it in my backpack and Gerard left. I glanced at the clock. 1:05. We were supposed to be gone by 1:00. So I was late for my next class. Joy.

--

I began walking home when Mikey told me he was going to get a ride after my band practice. I nodded and he asked if I wanted a ride. He mentioned he and Gerard got picked up by their dad and I passed. "I already spent one hour with him, I don't want to spend any more time with him." I thanked him and went on to my next class.

So, I had probably walked about five minutes from the school, when my dad's old Saturn pulled up behind me. I turned around and walked to the car and made sure it was my dad inside. It was so I opened the door and climbed in. "Hey, Dad," I greeted smiling. I decided it would be best to not tell him about me going to counsling for two days a week. He'd ask way, and I'd have to say 'I don't know' because I don't.

He smiled back at me and turned the radio off. "Hey, Syd. I was just wondering if you wanted to go and get some ice cream." He turned hopefully at me and started to drive.

I laughed. "Why are looking at me like I might reject you? I could never pass up ice cream." He laughed, too and shook his head. He mumbled a good and he turned on the radio again telling me to pick out a station. I fumbled with the dial until I heard "Lovesong" by The Cure.

My dad glanced at me before turning his attention back to the road. "You listen to pretty weird music, Syd," he commented. I laughed and shook my head.

"No, you listen to pretty weird music, Dad," I retorted.

He made a small movement with his head, which is what he usually did when I said something stupid. "You listen to pretty much the same music I do, butthead," he laughed. I playfully rolled my eyes and looked out the window, still smiling.

--

I mixed my spoon in my chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and listened to my dad tell me about how they might fire him from his job. I let my spoon plop into the half melted ice cream and I bit my lip. "That's no fair, Dad. You've been sick. They should know that you're not well enough to go back to work." My dad worked in a bank. Not the fanciest job ever. But he gets paid really well and he's the one who makes sure we're actually living. Unlike my mother, who either stripped to make her money or was a model. Or a hooker. Not sure.

"Yes, but, sweetie, I've used all my sick days and all my vacation days. I'm going to have to back in sooner or later."

"But you're so pale, Dad. Are you sure this is just the flu?" He nodded optimistically and smiled.

"It's just the flu," he said reassuringly. I smiled back. My dad seemed so confident about it being just the flu, so I decided once and for all, I'm going to believe him. No questions asked. "So how was school?" my dad asked.

I glanced up at him. He never asked this question. But I guess we needed something to talk about. "Good." I tried to think of something to add to that. "Um,... we... learned about... rocks...?" Not exactly what I was going for.

"Oh. Interesting." He smiled. "Mr. Warlock told me you're counlsing with Gerard... Way... is it?" he questioned.

"Uh... yeah. Mr. W told you? Isn't there, like, some confidentiality thing?"

He nodded. "Yes. But he told me because he didn't want me to be surprised when you told me. But... you haven't told me yet." He raised his eyebrows and sent me a disapproving look. I hate that look.

"I just didn't want to ask you because you'd be like 'why?' and I'd be like 'Gerard has problems' or 'I don't know' because the second one is the truth.." I paused. "And maybe the first one, too. So... maybe..." I stopped to think. Is that why I'm with Gerard. But then shouldn't I be asking the questions? Maybe it was me who had the problems.

"Well... I guess I understand." He rubbed his eye and said, "I think I might shave my head."

I widened my eyes then raised my eyebrows. "Why...?" I asked, streching out the word.

"I don't know. It's all falling out anyway." He groaned then laughed. "I'm too old."

I chuckled. "Dad, you're only forty. Not old at all. Forty's like the new ten."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever. I'm shaving my head." He nodded his head once to show to me he was serious. I told him it was fine. I didn't care. It was his head. His hair. He told me he was glad I agreed, unlike Nicola who threw a fit and said she would not allow her dad to look like Granddaddy. I sighed and told Dad Nicola was a drama queen. He laughed and agreed.

"Plus, I think you'll look delightful," I joked.