New Kid in New Jersey

My next class flew past in a blur. It was History, and as much as I hated it, it was a pretty easygoing class for me. We had a deaf, astonishingly ugly old woman for a teacher; so I could just sit and do whatever the hell I wanted, because she most likely wouldn’t even have noticed if someone had thrown a dead weasel straight at her face. Meh - not that I would do that...

I didn’t have much trouble finding the right room; Miss Fass gave me directions at the end of the poetry class. It was pretty suprising that I didn’t get beaten up on my way there, though. I got pushed into lockers and stuff; the usual, but apart from that, I was fine. Getting out at break was slightly different. I’d accidentally tripped up a burly, greasy-haired jock who was strutting along behind me. I was just standing, terrified, in the middle of the hallway; worrying whether I should stay back and say sorry or whatever, or just plain run for it before I could get beaten up.
I guess I’d stood there a little too long. The jock had slammed me up against the wall, and was glaring at me with a sort of ‘Death Stare’.

"Jesus, I didn’t do it on purpose!" I defended.
The jock simply growled angrily in response, and narrowed his eyebrows slightly, not once stealing his cold gaze from my shaking features.
Everyone else in the corridor had just stopped to watch. No one said anything; they just stood still, in a vast crowd, staring at us both as the jock began to throw wild punches at my face.

I wasn’t quite listening to what the jock was saying, although I made out the obvious ‘Fag’ taunts and insults that he would shoot every here and there. A tough-looking group of other jocks, who I guessed were this jock’s friends, stood in a wobbly circle around us. They were smirking stupidly, while collecting frequent kisses from their high-heeled preppy girlfriends.
I waited, for what seemed like hours, until the beating finally ceased. Wrapping my arms around my stomach in pain, I slid silently down the cold, hard wall and sat, weak, down on the floor. The open-mouthed crowds of students slowly began to wander off in different directions to go and meet their friends for break.

Soon enough, there was no one left in the corridor but me, slumped down on the rough floor. Turns out, I was only being beaten up for fifteen minutes. Not bad. I thought they would be much worse at this school. But, still, I couldn’t move very easily, so I decided to stay where I was until the bell rang once more, and forced me to have to get up and limp to whatever lessons I might have next. Attempting to lift my bruised arm up slightly, I groaned at the sudden pain, and rested it back down in my lap again.

"What the hell happened to you?!" Mikey’s worried voice rang out along the corridor as he approached me from the top of the stairs.

"What do you think, Mikey?" I said grumpily.
He sighed and sat down next to me, and I winced slightly as he began to poke and prod my arm gently, examining my bruises.

"You won’t have broken anything. You’d have to provoke those bastards pretty bad for them to do enough damage to break something."
I looked at him with a sort of pleading look on my face, not really knowing what to say. "That sort of thing happens all the time and this school. It’s probably just because you’re new. New kids are always the ones who get picked on the most." He said kindly, ruffling my hair up a bit.

"Great..." I said, giving him a sarcastic smile.

"Don’t worry, Frank, it’ll die down in a few weeks, once you’ve settled in." Mikey said, fidgeting on the hard floor. "Hey, you should come with me and meet the guys at lunch today. They’ll like you."

"Yeah..." I said slowly, resting my head in my hands to think. "I think I will."

"Great! Aw, man, this is going to be awesome!" He grinned, and suddenly sat up straight, as if remembering something. "Oh, and you have to meet Gerard, my brother! He’s going to love you; you’re just like each other!"

"Wow, he sounds…cool. Can’t wait!" I said, smiling to myself at the fact that I had already met Gerard.