Parlez-Vous Francais?
Oui.
“My brother,” Mikey said, “is a linguistic genius. He’ll sort you out.”
And the part of me that begged to protest, internally screaming “No, not Gerard!” was silenced by the desperation of a teenage boy just about to fail his French exam. The desperation of a teenage boy not wanting to suffer the wrath of the dragon lady, with her burgundy talons and nasal French accent, her cruel, unforgiving eyes and horrible, horrible fashion sense. I was willing to do anything at all to escape death by teacher, even if it meant entering the lair of Gerard Way.
However, sitting cross-legged and vulnerable in front of the loud, obnoxious older boy, I began to wonder whether or not this was a fate worse than death.
“You know,” Gerard smirked, hazel eyes glittering mischievously, one eyebrow raised suggestively, “I once read… that Gerard is French for ‘huge dick.’”
I stared at him, horrified for a few seconds, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. He stared back at me, his round, chubby face annoyingly smug. My eyes narrowed, darkening slightly. Gerard seemed to have this compulsion to shock, to surprise, to say something so damn weird, he would gain the most attention from his peers. He was an approval junkie, so desperate to gain prestige from his friends, that it didn’t matter what he said or did to get it. He was the ‘joker’, the comedian, the jester of our school but it seemed like I was the only one not laughing.
“Then, why the hell did your parents name you Gerard?!” I exclaimed loudly, my voice higher than usual. Mikey snorted from the hallway. Gerard made a growling noise deep in his throat, his pale cheeks flushing briefly before shrugging his shoulders and shuffling closer to me. I recoiled slightly, though he didn’t notice. He smelt strange, not necessarily unpleasant, but not a nice enough smell to make me want to get close to him.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on what annoyed me about Gerard, other than the obvious annoying traits he possessed. He was relatively harmless, wouldn’t hurt a fly, but every inch of my being shied away from him whenever he was within a ten-mile radius of me.
It could be the way he looked at me. Those probing eyes….
He freaked me out.
“So, you want to learn le français?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, his cheek riding up in a crooked smile that made his right eye crease.
“Well… yeah,” I said grumpily, looking across at the wall, glaring at the ripped posters of various rock stars trying to look tough and menacing but failing miserably. “Can we kinda… hurry up a bit? My mom is expecting me home for dinner.”
“Le déjeuner,” Gerard corrected sternly, folding his arms across his chest and shaking the mousy brown hair out of his hazel eyes.
“That’s lunch,” I muttered, giving him a filthy look. He rolled his eyes and pulled a collection of textbooks out from his wooden bookshelf. “We’re just studying food at the moment, Gerard. You don’t need all those books.”
“Do not argue with the teacher, Mr Iero, or I shall give you a firm spanking,” He looked over his shoulder at me, wiggling his thick eyebrows. I threw up a little in my mouth. He opened the largest book he could find to the first page. “Now, let us start with the basics. How do you say ‘Hello, my name is Frank’?”
I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose, hearing Mikey snigger from his bedroom. “Why do you have to be like this?” My voice sounded drained and exhausted. Gerard smiled.
“Wrong.”
I tutted loudly and put my head in my hands. He waited patiently, silent and still, his breathing steady and calm. I looked up at him, my eyes furious. He was watching me, the curves of a small smile playing on his pale lips, eyes glittering with something I didn’t recognise. I gave in.
“Bonjour, je m’appelle Frank.”
“Tres bien,” He applauded me, a patronizing grin on his face. I told him to shut up and his round face fell. He looked hurt and offended, his lips parted slightly. I felt slightly guilty but he was probably just messing around. He looked serious but there was still that playful glimmer in his eye. He was a terrible liar.
“You’re a rubbish teacher, Gerard,” I stated, my face stern. “I could learn more from a monkey.”
“Well… monkeys are renowned for their knowledge of the French language, where as I’m just known for my fabulous fashion sense,” He adjusted his shirt, pulling the collar forward. I snorted. “But, Frank… remember this…” He moved closer to me, his face suddenly intent and passionate and for once, I didn’t move away. I was glued to the spot, both terrified and intrigued.
“Je t’aime,” He said, his French accent perfect, making the words flow effortlessly, almost beautifully. I stared at him in confusion. “Je t’aime, Frank, je t’aime.”
I was speechless, gawping at him like an idiot. He moved back to his original spot, unruffled and nonchalant. He picked up his textbook and turned to page two. I got to my feet, slightly dizzy and unsteady.
“Lesson is over, Frank,” Gerard said, his voice bright and cheerful. “You may leave.” I practically ran out of the room, leaving my dignity there with him.
“Touche,” he said.
And the part of me that begged to protest, internally screaming “No, not Gerard!” was silenced by the desperation of a teenage boy just about to fail his French exam. The desperation of a teenage boy not wanting to suffer the wrath of the dragon lady, with her burgundy talons and nasal French accent, her cruel, unforgiving eyes and horrible, horrible fashion sense. I was willing to do anything at all to escape death by teacher, even if it meant entering the lair of Gerard Way.
However, sitting cross-legged and vulnerable in front of the loud, obnoxious older boy, I began to wonder whether or not this was a fate worse than death.
“You know,” Gerard smirked, hazel eyes glittering mischievously, one eyebrow raised suggestively, “I once read… that Gerard is French for ‘huge dick.’”
I stared at him, horrified for a few seconds, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. He stared back at me, his round, chubby face annoyingly smug. My eyes narrowed, darkening slightly. Gerard seemed to have this compulsion to shock, to surprise, to say something so damn weird, he would gain the most attention from his peers. He was an approval junkie, so desperate to gain prestige from his friends, that it didn’t matter what he said or did to get it. He was the ‘joker’, the comedian, the jester of our school but it seemed like I was the only one not laughing.
“Then, why the hell did your parents name you Gerard?!” I exclaimed loudly, my voice higher than usual. Mikey snorted from the hallway. Gerard made a growling noise deep in his throat, his pale cheeks flushing briefly before shrugging his shoulders and shuffling closer to me. I recoiled slightly, though he didn’t notice. He smelt strange, not necessarily unpleasant, but not a nice enough smell to make me want to get close to him.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on what annoyed me about Gerard, other than the obvious annoying traits he possessed. He was relatively harmless, wouldn’t hurt a fly, but every inch of my being shied away from him whenever he was within a ten-mile radius of me.
It could be the way he looked at me. Those probing eyes….
He freaked me out.
“So, you want to learn le français?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, his cheek riding up in a crooked smile that made his right eye crease.
“Well… yeah,” I said grumpily, looking across at the wall, glaring at the ripped posters of various rock stars trying to look tough and menacing but failing miserably. “Can we kinda… hurry up a bit? My mom is expecting me home for dinner.”
“Le déjeuner,” Gerard corrected sternly, folding his arms across his chest and shaking the mousy brown hair out of his hazel eyes.
“That’s lunch,” I muttered, giving him a filthy look. He rolled his eyes and pulled a collection of textbooks out from his wooden bookshelf. “We’re just studying food at the moment, Gerard. You don’t need all those books.”
“Do not argue with the teacher, Mr Iero, or I shall give you a firm spanking,” He looked over his shoulder at me, wiggling his thick eyebrows. I threw up a little in my mouth. He opened the largest book he could find to the first page. “Now, let us start with the basics. How do you say ‘Hello, my name is Frank’?”
I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose, hearing Mikey snigger from his bedroom. “Why do you have to be like this?” My voice sounded drained and exhausted. Gerard smiled.
“Wrong.”
I tutted loudly and put my head in my hands. He waited patiently, silent and still, his breathing steady and calm. I looked up at him, my eyes furious. He was watching me, the curves of a small smile playing on his pale lips, eyes glittering with something I didn’t recognise. I gave in.
“Bonjour, je m’appelle Frank.”
“Tres bien,” He applauded me, a patronizing grin on his face. I told him to shut up and his round face fell. He looked hurt and offended, his lips parted slightly. I felt slightly guilty but he was probably just messing around. He looked serious but there was still that playful glimmer in his eye. He was a terrible liar.
“You’re a rubbish teacher, Gerard,” I stated, my face stern. “I could learn more from a monkey.”
“Well… monkeys are renowned for their knowledge of the French language, where as I’m just known for my fabulous fashion sense,” He adjusted his shirt, pulling the collar forward. I snorted. “But, Frank… remember this…” He moved closer to me, his face suddenly intent and passionate and for once, I didn’t move away. I was glued to the spot, both terrified and intrigued.
“Je t’aime,” He said, his French accent perfect, making the words flow effortlessly, almost beautifully. I stared at him in confusion. “Je t’aime, Frank, je t’aime.”
I was speechless, gawping at him like an idiot. He moved back to his original spot, unruffled and nonchalant. He picked up his textbook and turned to page two. I got to my feet, slightly dizzy and unsteady.
“Lesson is over, Frank,” Gerard said, his voice bright and cheerful. “You may leave.” I practically ran out of the room, leaving my dignity there with him.
“Touche,” he said.