Skin and Bones

The social worker has taken over the living room for his interview with Mikey. Since Mikey is underage, Donna’s up there with them. Which just leaves me and Gerard in his room in the basement, since Donald is still at work.

I try to focus on my homework. I found out that the brothers either do theirs right before class, during lunch or during study hall. It’s pretty clever – if you can focus. I can’t focus anywhere right now.

I keep thinking about the interview. What he’s gonna ask me. What I’m gonna answer. I shouldn’t fidget. I shouldn’t look nervous. It’s a dead give-away of discomfort, and I wanna show that I’m comfortable here – that this place is right for me.
What if I fuck up?

I blink to tear my eyes away from the dark carpet and focus on my math-homework. It’s fucking hard, and since I can’t focus, it’s fucking impossible.
I let go of the pencil and rub my eyes.

“You okay?” Gerard’s voice makes me jump. For the last hour I’ve been on his bed trying to solve one math-problem while he’s been at his desk drawing. Everything’s been completely silent – in the room; not in my head.

I look up and give him a small smile. He still looks concerned.

“Math trouble?” I nod and I can’t help but pout. I feel so useless, but with Gerard in the room I feel like a happy and cute kind of useless.

Gerard gets up and walks over to the bed – his pencil still in his hand as if it’s stuck. He sits down on the bed and glances towards the closed door, before he leans over my books and gives me a soft kiss. I kiss back.

It ends all too quickly.

“I’ll help you,” he says determinedly and grab my book and notebook. He frowns as he scans then both – his eyes shifting from one to the other in a rhythm. When the rhythm stops, my gut curls around itself. I need for it to continue. I was starting to depend on it. I was.
His eyes shift one last time – relieving my gut and mind from the tension.
“I’ve seen this before, but I’ve forgotten how to do it.” I smirk. Some help he is.
Gerard looks up at me apologetic. He giggles shortly.
“You’re so darn cute.” I blush lightly, but it doesn’t stop me from being brave and lean over to kiss him. Our lips dance together – his soft ones making my entire body tremble.

I pull back and open my eyes to look him in the eye. He gazes back – a dazed look in them. I fight my blush and beg for my voice not to bail on me.

“I love-“
There’s a knock on the door – while it opens. The knock is basically redundant, but it does give me a chance to slam my butt against the mattress so me and Gerard aren’t that close.

“Alright, Gerard. I’m ready to talk with you,” the social worker says. It’s obvious that he tries so hard to sound sympathetic and kind, but I see right through that and only spot a nonchalant liar. I already know he’s gonna tell me to pack my bags and then say ‘it’s all gonna be okay’.

Gerard gets up and walks towards the door. The social worker leaves the doorway, and just before Gerard follows, he turns around and smiles at me. He blinks slowly at me once. Then he leaves.
He heard me.
I blush and focus on my homework.
I manage to solve one problem before my mind drifts off again.

The building is grey – how fitting. I tighten my hold on my suitcase and chew on my tongue in attempt of creating some saliva in my dry mouth.
“Come on, Frank,” the social worker says as he walks past me and towards the steps leading up to the huge wooden door. Even the wood is grey. Everything is grey.
I walk across the grey cobble stones and step onto the first grey step. My stomach plummets to the ground.
I’m doing it. I’m actually stepping out of the real world and into this grey one. Gerard won’t be there to color it. Mikey won’t be there to bring up the noise level. Donna won’t be here to make it smell like…home. Donald won’t be here to make me feel accepted.
I lift my foot off the cobble stoned ground and leave my stomach behind. I won’t need it here.
“Frank,” a voice calls, and when I look up I see the principal – my mom.

“Frank,” someone says and pushes my shoulder. My eyes fly open.
“Wake up.” I look up to see the social worker. He pushes my shoulder once more, even though it’s obvious that I’m already awake.
“It’s time for our talk.” He smiles. I don’t know if he means for it to be, but to me it’s vicious – predatory.
I sit up and rub my eyes quickly, before I get to my feet and follow him upstairs.

“Mom, please?” Gerard begs. The social worker and I walk through the hallway and into the living room. Gerard and Donna look up at me. I smile shortly and bow my head.

“Gerard, just go downstairs. I’ll take care of Frank.” I smile again. He wanted to take care me – to look out for me?
I bite my lip and blush – my cheeks burning and prickling.
Gerard’s shoulder ‘accidentally’ brushes against mine when he walks past me. I grab the sleeves of my hoodie and tug at them as I walk over to the couch and sit down.
“Since Frank is a minor as well, I think I should stay,” Donna says sternly – determinately.

“Alright. Take your seat.” I look over my shoulder to see Donna take a seat on the piano stool. Their piano is old and discolored. A table cloth and a bunch of weird collectors plates and cups decorate the top of it.
“Alright, Frank.” I look back at the social worker. He actually did tell me his name this morning in front of the house when he first arrived, but I don’t remember it. I really wanna call him ‘asshole’, but I wouldn’t wanna accidentally call him that out loud, so for now he’s just ‘the social worker’.
“Mrs. Way can witness this conversation, but please; don’t talk to her or look at her. I want this interview to be your side of the story, and I wouldn’t want any interferences.” I nod quickly. My nerves are creeping up on me. My breathing is ragged and choppy – like my neck is closing up at random intervals. I can’t keep my hands still.
“Okay. First, I would like for you to tell me a bit about yourself.” My eyes widen and I quickly look down. I don’t wanna look uncomfortable.
“Your interests. Hobbies. Subjects you like in school. Sports. So on.” He keeps shaking his head at everything he says. My leg begins to bounce and I can’t stop it.
He stays quiet. He’s waiting for me to answer.

“I uhm-“ I swallow down nothing. My throat hurts from the dryness.
“I like to- uhm.” I look around the living room. He keeps staring at me. I can feel his eyes bore into me.
Think! What does Gerard and Mikey like?
“I like comics. And, uhm. Music. I like music.” I do – I like music. But he won’t believe me. I know he won’t believe me. I’m too insecure. I look uncomfortable.
I need to calm down. Just calm the fuck down!

“What kind of music?” He’s scribbling something down – the tip of the pen dancing across the paper making small shapes and circles and odd lines.

“Uhm. I like punk.” He looks up suddenly – surprised. Is that good?
“Like, The Cure and- uhm.” He looks down quickly and scribbles something down fast. He’s frowning. I bite my tongue.

“What else do you like?” Oh no. He doesn’t like The Cure. He won’t approve of the music. Mikey listens to punk and hardcore shit all the time. He won’t approve of that at all.

I bring my shoulders up closer to my ears and try to ventilate my hot and moist armpits.

“Any sports or activities?” I don’t do sports. If I did, he’d let me stay.
He looks up at me. He frowns at me. He moves his lips at me. He gets up and walks over to me. I close my eyes.