Status: Completed
High School Is the Least of Our Worries.
Chapter 11
Gerard.
I kind of knew on the inside that Frank would have pretended to hate me again. Or, maybe, he’s not pretending? But I think he was pretending … he was almost my friend last night. The way he said it quietly kind of said it all. He threw an insult at me, yet he said it with regret, like he was being forced to say it.
I turn away from Frank, tears threatening to come to my eyes. But they don’t come. I’m just filled with a blank regret, and my eyes are shielded with mirrors. I know that I’m still alone.
I go through the day more or less just staring vacantly into space. I was in all of my classes, listening to Mrs Wilson ramble on about quadratic equations, and I heard snippets of insults thrown at me at random times. I didn’t listen; I don’t even remember walking to and from classes. I don’t remember seeing Frank at all, other than in Geography, when he turned to look at me. We looked at each other for about half a minute, searching each other. I don’t know what he was looking for, but he didn’t find it. I was looking for a way out, a way to stop all this prejudice and injustice. I didn’t find it either.
I don’t snap out of my trance until last period, when I have a free period. I go out to the school grounds to re-read my English notes, assuming I'm the only one out of lessons that I know. I'm wrong.
“Hey, fag,” I hear a voice looking down upon me. It's Brad.
I don’t reply. I just look up at him, waiting to see what he wants.
“What have you done to Frank?” he says, with a dangerous calmness to his voice. I don’t say anything. “
Answer me, you fucking fag,” he spits, heaving me up to my feet. The last thing I remember is Frank, calling out Brad’s name, running towards us.
Frank.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” I yell at Brad before I can stop myself. He’s laying into Gerard, kicking him in the stomach repeatedly. I pull Brad off roughly, anger coursing through my veins.
“Answer me!” I yell as I look down at Gerard’s whimpering figure. He’s curled in a small ball, hands covering his face to protect himself.
“What the fuck's happened to you man?” Brad shoots at me and I look at him confused.
“What do you mean? I’m still the same."
“No you're not, you're defending this useless waste of space,” he says mockingly.
“Has he turned you into a fag too?!” he sneers.
Something inside me snaps and I lunge at him and punch him square in the jaw. Brad groans and kicks me off him
“I bet you’re a fucking queer just like him,” He retorts as he walks away massaging his jaw.
As soon as I know he’s gone I rush over to Gerard, not entirely sure why I care about him “Hey, man… you ok?” I whisper.
I kind of knew on the inside that Frank would have pretended to hate me again. Or, maybe, he’s not pretending? But I think he was pretending … he was almost my friend last night. The way he said it quietly kind of said it all. He threw an insult at me, yet he said it with regret, like he was being forced to say it.
I turn away from Frank, tears threatening to come to my eyes. But they don’t come. I’m just filled with a blank regret, and my eyes are shielded with mirrors. I know that I’m still alone.
I go through the day more or less just staring vacantly into space. I was in all of my classes, listening to Mrs Wilson ramble on about quadratic equations, and I heard snippets of insults thrown at me at random times. I didn’t listen; I don’t even remember walking to and from classes. I don’t remember seeing Frank at all, other than in Geography, when he turned to look at me. We looked at each other for about half a minute, searching each other. I don’t know what he was looking for, but he didn’t find it. I was looking for a way out, a way to stop all this prejudice and injustice. I didn’t find it either.
I don’t snap out of my trance until last period, when I have a free period. I go out to the school grounds to re-read my English notes, assuming I'm the only one out of lessons that I know. I'm wrong.
“Hey, fag,” I hear a voice looking down upon me. It's Brad.
I don’t reply. I just look up at him, waiting to see what he wants.
“What have you done to Frank?” he says, with a dangerous calmness to his voice. I don’t say anything. “
Answer me, you fucking fag,” he spits, heaving me up to my feet. The last thing I remember is Frank, calling out Brad’s name, running towards us.
Frank.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” I yell at Brad before I can stop myself. He’s laying into Gerard, kicking him in the stomach repeatedly. I pull Brad off roughly, anger coursing through my veins.
“Answer me!” I yell as I look down at Gerard’s whimpering figure. He’s curled in a small ball, hands covering his face to protect himself.
“What the fuck's happened to you man?” Brad shoots at me and I look at him confused.
“What do you mean? I’m still the same."
“No you're not, you're defending this useless waste of space,” he says mockingly.
“Has he turned you into a fag too?!” he sneers.
Something inside me snaps and I lunge at him and punch him square in the jaw. Brad groans and kicks me off him
“I bet you’re a fucking queer just like him,” He retorts as he walks away massaging his jaw.
As soon as I know he’s gone I rush over to Gerard, not entirely sure why I care about him “Hey, man… you ok?” I whisper.