Mikey Way Gave Mona Lisa That Smile
one of one.
They called her “Mona.” As in Mona Lisa, or not. It really had little to do with that famous painting or anything at all … cultured. It wasn’t her nickname, in no way any sort of term of endearment, just a joke that obnoxiously sprouted from one pathetic weed of a rumor.
They didn’t know her. They didn’t know that sometimes, when she felt broken up, she would snuggle up in front of the television watching her childhood copy of Cinderella on VHS. None of them knew that she crushed on adorably nerdy, awkward band geeks – the tall ones with glasses and not one ounce of body fat, let alone muscle – rather than the prettier boys or football players that she “cheered” for. Or that she had a list of things to do before death, so far consisting of just one entry: crowd surf at a Smashing Pumpkins concert. None of them really knew her life at all.
Of course, Lisa James was the strawberry blond, baby blue eyed, plump-chested walking smile and floating set of alluring eyes. She was the cheerleader. The blond, not the mind, despite the five AP classes she was acing. She was that girl who earned the school-wide title Mona Lisa thanks to the noises she made in the backseat of Casey Davis’s car.
Supposedly.
Truthfully, he’d kissed her just once; a kiss that had been cut short by her forcefully outraged arms shoving him back from the shoulders. That kiss took place in a crowded school hallway; Lisa had never been in his car. His rumor was so completely false, a theory that had never been tested that Lisa chose to simply ignore, though she knew it was out there circling about. She didn’t find the Moan-ah Lisa pun very funny, but allowed it to roll of her back. As long as she knew the truth - that she had never been in Casey’s car before, never willingly kissed him - that was fine with her.
Upon the biology classroom door there was a timid knock, which was greeted quite enthusiastically by Lisa’s period four teacher, Mr. Grays, “Come on in!” As was ordered, the door opened to reveal Michael Way. Mikey. Lisa, seated in the first row in her blue and red Catholic School Girl uniform, smiled and, when he spotted her looking at him, Mikey nearly tripped over his own feet under the archway of the open door.
In his hand was a bright yellow slip of paper. Having twisted his ankle in some sort of unclear incident with his older brother, Gerard, Mikey was no longer able to participate in gym class this period and had instead been scheduled as an “aid” in the guidance office downstairs. During this period, he simply delivered passes, which requested different students down to their guidance counselors, and answered the occasional telephone ring.
“Oh, thank you there son!” Mr. Grays’ usual overpowering tone did not falter. Mikey handed over the florescent square of paper and sent a shy “Hey there” look Lisa’s way before closing the door behind him.
The door clicked shut and Lisa giggled silently to herself. How cute was this boy? How shy he was in almost every situation, excluding anytime they were absolutely alone with each other, that he could still write up a fake pass to get her out of class nearly every day? It was so amusing, to Lisa, how he could barely, and really even attempted to, piece together coherent sentences when they were around others but once he was alone with her, he took complete control.
“Miss James,” her teacher looked over the pass before placing it upon her desk, “Ms. Kaczynski wants you down in guidance again, dear.”
Lisa nodded, picking up the pass but leaving her books behind knowing she’d be due back before the end of class. Mr. Grays had already started up his lesson once again as Lisa quietly exited the room.
Mikey and Lisa were a sort of pair: next-door neighbors their wholes lives and best friends since the days of animal crackers and lessons on shoe-tying. However, you wouldn’t be able to tell from within the walls of their high school. But, then again, Mikey Way was hard to pick out in that crowd anyways, not one to make himself noticed. Most of his classmates wouldn’t be able to tell you who exactly he was, though everyone was aware of his best friend. At school, his and Lisa’s days were completely separate, leaving their peers clueless of the fact that they were nearly inseparable when cheer practice, social scenes, and all of Lisa’s honors classes didn’t come between them.
None of those kids who thought it was funny to call out to her “Hey Mona!” needed to know about what went on between them, what they shared. This was the boy who knew her, inside-out, left and right, down to every last quirk. He was the one who could tell when she was faking a smile or trying not to cry. She didn’t need to prove herself to anyone but Mikey.
Lisa loved the feelings of walking through an empty school hallway. It was so contradicting of the usual cramped, almost violent push-and-shove of hurried high school students. At the end of the hall, Lisa stopped to lean her back against the window-wall that looked out into the school’s less-than-impressive courtyard as she turned over the forged pass, looking for that same small script. In the corner, in inky blue pen, his recognizable scribbles were printed, directing her to the art supply closet not far from where she currently stood. This was how Mikey always told her where to find him. Mikey ‘wore the pants’ in this relationship, for sure, but only behind closed doors.
Moments later, Lisa found herself inside of a supply-room closet, perched on a filing cabinet with her “friend” standing before her, between her spread thighs. His hands were on her neck, thumbs caressing her jawbone, while her hands pawed up against his chest.
Suddenly, leaving Lisa breathless and still leaning towards his lips, Mikey pulled back. He looked into Lisa’s eyes, his own eyeglasses slightly foggy from both their breathing. “Lisa,” he began. The two of them cut class like this nearly twice each week. They never talked about their make-out session afterwards, and rarely spoke during them. Mikey wasn’t Lisa’s boyfriend and Lisa wasn’t Mikey’s girlfriend. And that’s probably why they never spoke of these events; they were both pretty hesitant and clueless. But now, Mikey had something to say.
“Yes, doll?” she breathed in reply.
“I think I need to be your boyfriend, now.” He informed her nonchalantly when really his heart was pounding as he spoke the sentence he had rehearsed and rephrased so many, many times.
He waiting through the painful silence with a scared lump in his now empty throat, wondering if it would be possible to fill it back up with the unfortunately discarded sentence. What a silly mistake. They were best friends, shouldn’t that be good enough for him? And even better that he got to kiss her sometimes? Lisa definitely seemed content with it…
In reply, Lisa left a sweet peck upon his cheek.
“I think that’s a lovely idea.” Lisa declared as she hopped off of the cabinet, smoothing out her plaid skirt. She looked back up to find Mikey, always towering over her, peering down at her with an I-just-really-like-to-look-at-you smile.
Bringing their make-out session to an early end, Mikey and Lisa exited into the hallway hand-in-hand. They’d never held hands before, as a “couple.” It was a statement, walking through the school hallways. Lisa, lips twisting into a knowing grin, separated her hand from Mikey’s to pull his arm around her own shoulder. Mikey Way knew how to make a girl feel special, feel good.
They took their time walking back to her class, Lisa wearing that coy, lovesick smile, which insisted upon knowing something you didn’t. Mikey Way gave Mona Lisa that smile.
They didn’t know her. They didn’t know that sometimes, when she felt broken up, she would snuggle up in front of the television watching her childhood copy of Cinderella on VHS. None of them knew that she crushed on adorably nerdy, awkward band geeks – the tall ones with glasses and not one ounce of body fat, let alone muscle – rather than the prettier boys or football players that she “cheered” for. Or that she had a list of things to do before death, so far consisting of just one entry: crowd surf at a Smashing Pumpkins concert. None of them really knew her life at all.
Of course, Lisa James was the strawberry blond, baby blue eyed, plump-chested walking smile and floating set of alluring eyes. She was the cheerleader. The blond, not the mind, despite the five AP classes she was acing. She was that girl who earned the school-wide title Mona Lisa thanks to the noises she made in the backseat of Casey Davis’s car.
Supposedly.
Truthfully, he’d kissed her just once; a kiss that had been cut short by her forcefully outraged arms shoving him back from the shoulders. That kiss took place in a crowded school hallway; Lisa had never been in his car. His rumor was so completely false, a theory that had never been tested that Lisa chose to simply ignore, though she knew it was out there circling about. She didn’t find the Moan-ah Lisa pun very funny, but allowed it to roll of her back. As long as she knew the truth - that she had never been in Casey’s car before, never willingly kissed him - that was fine with her.
Upon the biology classroom door there was a timid knock, which was greeted quite enthusiastically by Lisa’s period four teacher, Mr. Grays, “Come on in!” As was ordered, the door opened to reveal Michael Way. Mikey. Lisa, seated in the first row in her blue and red Catholic School Girl uniform, smiled and, when he spotted her looking at him, Mikey nearly tripped over his own feet under the archway of the open door.
In his hand was a bright yellow slip of paper. Having twisted his ankle in some sort of unclear incident with his older brother, Gerard, Mikey was no longer able to participate in gym class this period and had instead been scheduled as an “aid” in the guidance office downstairs. During this period, he simply delivered passes, which requested different students down to their guidance counselors, and answered the occasional telephone ring.
“Oh, thank you there son!” Mr. Grays’ usual overpowering tone did not falter. Mikey handed over the florescent square of paper and sent a shy “Hey there” look Lisa’s way before closing the door behind him.
The door clicked shut and Lisa giggled silently to herself. How cute was this boy? How shy he was in almost every situation, excluding anytime they were absolutely alone with each other, that he could still write up a fake pass to get her out of class nearly every day? It was so amusing, to Lisa, how he could barely, and really even attempted to, piece together coherent sentences when they were around others but once he was alone with her, he took complete control.
“Miss James,” her teacher looked over the pass before placing it upon her desk, “Ms. Kaczynski wants you down in guidance again, dear.”
Lisa nodded, picking up the pass but leaving her books behind knowing she’d be due back before the end of class. Mr. Grays had already started up his lesson once again as Lisa quietly exited the room.
Mikey and Lisa were a sort of pair: next-door neighbors their wholes lives and best friends since the days of animal crackers and lessons on shoe-tying. However, you wouldn’t be able to tell from within the walls of their high school. But, then again, Mikey Way was hard to pick out in that crowd anyways, not one to make himself noticed. Most of his classmates wouldn’t be able to tell you who exactly he was, though everyone was aware of his best friend. At school, his and Lisa’s days were completely separate, leaving their peers clueless of the fact that they were nearly inseparable when cheer practice, social scenes, and all of Lisa’s honors classes didn’t come between them.
None of those kids who thought it was funny to call out to her “Hey Mona!” needed to know about what went on between them, what they shared. This was the boy who knew her, inside-out, left and right, down to every last quirk. He was the one who could tell when she was faking a smile or trying not to cry. She didn’t need to prove herself to anyone but Mikey.
Lisa loved the feelings of walking through an empty school hallway. It was so contradicting of the usual cramped, almost violent push-and-shove of hurried high school students. At the end of the hall, Lisa stopped to lean her back against the window-wall that looked out into the school’s less-than-impressive courtyard as she turned over the forged pass, looking for that same small script. In the corner, in inky blue pen, his recognizable scribbles were printed, directing her to the art supply closet not far from where she currently stood. This was how Mikey always told her where to find him. Mikey ‘wore the pants’ in this relationship, for sure, but only behind closed doors.
Moments later, Lisa found herself inside of a supply-room closet, perched on a filing cabinet with her “friend” standing before her, between her spread thighs. His hands were on her neck, thumbs caressing her jawbone, while her hands pawed up against his chest.
Suddenly, leaving Lisa breathless and still leaning towards his lips, Mikey pulled back. He looked into Lisa’s eyes, his own eyeglasses slightly foggy from both their breathing. “Lisa,” he began. The two of them cut class like this nearly twice each week. They never talked about their make-out session afterwards, and rarely spoke during them. Mikey wasn’t Lisa’s boyfriend and Lisa wasn’t Mikey’s girlfriend. And that’s probably why they never spoke of these events; they were both pretty hesitant and clueless. But now, Mikey had something to say.
“Yes, doll?” she breathed in reply.
“I think I need to be your boyfriend, now.” He informed her nonchalantly when really his heart was pounding as he spoke the sentence he had rehearsed and rephrased so many, many times.
He waiting through the painful silence with a scared lump in his now empty throat, wondering if it would be possible to fill it back up with the unfortunately discarded sentence. What a silly mistake. They were best friends, shouldn’t that be good enough for him? And even better that he got to kiss her sometimes? Lisa definitely seemed content with it…
In reply, Lisa left a sweet peck upon his cheek.
“I think that’s a lovely idea.” Lisa declared as she hopped off of the cabinet, smoothing out her plaid skirt. She looked back up to find Mikey, always towering over her, peering down at her with an I-just-really-like-to-look-at-you smile.
Bringing their make-out session to an early end, Mikey and Lisa exited into the hallway hand-in-hand. They’d never held hands before, as a “couple.” It was a statement, walking through the school hallways. Lisa, lips twisting into a knowing grin, separated her hand from Mikey’s to pull his arm around her own shoulder. Mikey Way knew how to make a girl feel special, feel good.
They took their time walking back to her class, Lisa wearing that coy, lovesick smile, which insisted upon knowing something you didn’t. Mikey Way gave Mona Lisa that smile.
♠ ♠ ♠
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