Slow Dance

I had written a letter back to this mysterious Gerard for tonight.
If I was going to meet him, and we were to be ‘together’ at least he ought to know who I was.
The letter was like any other letter.
Plane. Simple. Quickly written.
Something to say my name, how I was supposedly connected with him, and that I met a girl also.
This was the definite deal breaker right here. If we were to have ‘connections’ then so be it.
I don’t care.
Lillian had smiled as I walked out of the door with my purple converse, and my purple leather purse.
Yes, I carry a purse. It carries my camera, a book, a notebook, colored pencils, multi-colored skinny markers, and lots of pens.
Mainly the only things I bring around school, also.
These were the two things Lillian knew to watch out for.
These were my ‘special occasion’ accessories. I never left home without them on these days.

The café was about five minutes away, but I didn’t care.
This was the chance of a lifetime. If he didn’t like me, oh well.
It’s not like I’m going to lock myself in my room, start wearing pink, and singing to Hannah Montana like her monkey toned voice.
It’s a horrible sight to see an always peeved, My Chemical Romance loving, prep hating emo becoming preppy.
It actually has happened once in the history of Blade, Ohio. The little town that I currently lived in.

When I did find the café I grew a little nervous, and questions popped into my mind.
What if he didn’t like me?
What if he thought I wasn’t emo enough?
What if I became preppy afterwards if he didn’t accept me?
Why was I thinking about these crap questions?
I shook my head, and sighed. This was it. Time to face my fears.
The café doors opened with a bell sound. Disgusting.
Gerard was sitting in the way back sipping on some of the Starbucks coffee they sold.
His favorite, I knew. Starbucks was also my top favorite place to go when I was in a need for my ‘protein.’
A few gallons of coffee was pretty great, even when you’re ticked at someone and when they show up you have to wrap your hands after smashing their face in a few times.
It’s a great feeling.
I walked down to Gerard’s booth, and sat down. He just stared at me.
“Excuse me I’m waiting for someone to sit there.” Gerard informed me.
“Yea, I know.” I told him. I sat there in my caffeinated glory.
“Could you move?” He asked, and I shook my head.
“Read this,” I demanded handing him the letter I made.
I knew the letter by heart, of course.

Dear Gerard,
I’m that girl from that park.
My name is Ivory, and I’m sorry I chickened out at the park.
I thought you were another creeper looking to beat girls.
Sorry, I won’t judge you again.
My favorite band is My Chemical Romance, don’t get scared.
I’m not a stalker and won’t kill you.
We probably met the same ‘fortune teller.’
That’s why I’m sitting in front of you now.
Remember me as, ‘Park Girl’ if you want.
-Ivory No-Name

He looked up, eyes wide after finishing the letter.
“You’re the same girl who was at the park?” He asked, and I nodded.
“Why didn’t you say so?” He took another sip of his coffee.
“It says in the letter that I accidently thought you were a stalker. Sorry.” I shrugged. Accidents happen.
His painted frown had slowly cracked into a small grin. An evil grin, to be exact.
“What if I was a stalker? Would you still have come here?” He crossed his arms over his chest, and I thought about it.
If I had been too scared to say my real name in front of this guy, would I have come if he was a real stalker?
The answer was yes. I’d come anyway. I don’t give out my name to just anybody, but if we were meant to be, so be it.
Like I said, it was supposedly meant to be.
“Yes, I would’ve come anyway. Maybe I’m the stalker.” I smirked, and lifted my eyebrows to make it look like I meant it. He threw his hands in the air.
“Back off, I didn’t mean to stalk you! HEY! THIS GIRL’S STALKING THE STALKER!” He yelled at the cashier.
The cashier was Kayleigh, a good friend of mine. She hopped over to me, and started to fake-faint.
“Oh, crap! Ivory, you’re a stalker? I’ve been stalked this entire time?! Geez, I thought we were just friends!” We laughed at the inside joke, and Gerard’s jaw dropped.
“We’re kidding, Gerard.” I whispered, and he nodded. Kayleigh walked back to the counter, and helped out some preps.
Ugh, disgusting creatures of one-cup-of-coffee-a-day. How do they survive without a gallon of that holy caffeine? I thought to myself, and turned to Kayleigh.
“Kayleigh, nice act.” I turned back to Gerard, “I think she’s really going to be an actress when she gets older, but who knows.” I told Gerard, and he laughed.
“Got that right.” He told me, and I smiled.

After we finished our coffee-of about four cups each-we walked around for a bit around the town.
It was quiet, and the only lights there were the street lights.
The everyday theme in this deranged town is dark, quiet, and lonely.
Not many people walked around with fifteen kids with them.
If they did, we called them Preps instantly.
I was recently put into the highest rank of teenage ranks.
Emo.
When I was born I started off preppy (stage one).
But once I could pick out my clothes, put them on, and apply my own makeup, I was instantly a Goppy (mix of prep and goth, second stage).
Later in my life I was ranked into plain Goth (stage three). That’s the rank where you celebrate with other gothic kids your age.
It was one of my best days ever.
Until I was ranked Gemo (stage four, mix of Goth and Emo).
That was the time when I had to work on my emo maturity.
I marked my ‘I’ and ‘J’ with and ‘x’ about them for the dot, I cut myself once and a while when bored, and I swore every chance I could.
That was only stage four, and I worked my hardest to get to stage five.
Then, this year, at age 17, I got my rank as Emo.
That was the day where I got to drink, smoke, swear, and have fun with other emo guys my age for an entire week during the summer.
I smiled at the thought.
“What are you smiling at?” Gerard asked, and I just remembered he was there.
“Oh, just the day when all the kids ages 5-18 made me emo. It’s this weird thing in our town with all us teenagers. We choose Preps, Goths, Emos, and have the middle ranks. Goppy, and Gemo.” I laughed. The thought still rang in my head.
“What do you mean? Don’t you instantly become emo, goth, or prep?” He didn’t understand, and I shrugged.
“There are five stages. Stage one, infantry which is when you’re a Prep and also lasts from newborn to 5; stage two is when you’re a Goppy, a mix of Prep and Goth also known as the between rank and it takes about ages 6-9 to fulfill to the next stage; that’s stage three when you become fully Goth, that happens around ages 10-13; stage four is Gemo, another between rank of Goth and Emo, happens around ages 14-15 the shortest rank; and then there is stage five, emo. I’ve just turned Emo, and I’m 17. The ages are usually 16+. I was late.” I sighed.
The longest lesson ever, but the last rank was hard to become.
Nobody was ever ready. If they were, it was rare that the head council would allow it to pass.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” He asked, and I nodded.
“When you finish all five stages there’s the head council. A group where you can plan the rules of the ranks. It has five members, one ultimate Prep; one ultimate Goppy; one ultimate Goth; one ultimate Gemo; and one ultimate Emo. They tell you what rank you have entered, or if you have to drop a rank, or whatever. I’ve met them six times, actually. They thought about me skipping rank four, Gemo, but didn’t allow it. They gave me an extra year. I was shocked.” I sighed; it was hard to talk about the weirdness of our town’s ‘rank’ rules for teenagers.
Nobody understood.
“What else?” Gerard asked, always curious.
“If you pass Emo, which is rare, you have two choices. Join the head council, or have your own council entirely. It’s rare that people want their own council, so we’ve actually have had a total of 4 changes for each head councilor.” I shrugged, “people are probably too scared to have their own council or something.”
“Why would they be afraid? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘for the best’ of your town?” He asked, and I nodded.
“It’s a small town, so we can do this kind of stuff. We don’t have bands, orchestras, or anything. Only CDs, computers, iPods, cell phones, and other electronics. It’s stupid, I know, but we’re all ‘bad kids’ apparently so they took band and orchestra away from people. Our meetings with the head counsel are in study hall.” I sighed, and added on. “I wanted to be a bass player, not going to happen now.”
“What if I taught you how to play bass? What then?” He asked, and I stopped walking.
“You’d teach a freakish girl you just met the bass? I just told you the truth of all these teenagers.” I opened my arms wide to show that I meant my small town of Blade.

After that night Gerard and I had become quick friends.
It was about three months after that little story of my town, and he had taught me almost every note on the bass.
Today he was bringing a friend to teach me some of his moves.
I was ready, and excited.
My black hair was strewn around, my violet eyes ablaze.
I had pulled on my purple converse, and wore a shirt that said, ‘vampires will never hurt you.’
This was it, the time I got to see and learn bass moves while playing.
Gerard said that these moves would take a long time to learn, but I had just shrugged.
This would be fun, easy, and I didn’t care how much work it was.
As long as I fulfilled my goal of becoming a bass player.
After waiting for about fifteen minutes, they had finally got here.
Gerard and a guy that I recognized as Frank walked into my room like there was no problem
There wasn’t, I had grown used to Gerard being here now.
You could say that I was sort of falling in love.
This is a terrible thing to happen. If I fell in love with Gerard, a famous singer, I would surely get my heart broken.
Not once, but hundreds of times. So I kept those feelings away.
Nobody would be able to make me crack.
“Hey, Ivory. What’s up?” Gerard asked, sitting in his usual spot on my bed.
“Nothing really, just waiting for my training.” I smiled up at Frank, who had brought a bass case with him.
“I just rhymed.” I laughed, and they stared at me.
“How?” Frank asked, and I shrugged.
“I was thinking about your bass case, and it rhymed. I’d thought it was funny.” My laughing couldn’t stop.
“Hey! That is funny!” Frank cheered, and I heard him laugh.
“What do I not understand here?” Gerard asked, laughing at us.
“Bass case!” Frank and I yelled, and he got it then. We were laughing contagiously when there was a honk outside.
“What is that?” I asked, running to my window. Another car was waiting behind Gerard’s, and the driver looked ticked and curious of why Frank and him were here.
“Gerard?!” The person yelled to my window, and I shrugged.
“Gerard, it’s your stalking calling.” I joked, and I stared at Frank who was still smiling at the ‘bass case’ joke.
“That’s Mikey!” Gerard told me, and I covered my mouth, eyes wide.
“Oops! Don’t tell him!” I hissed, and Gerard ran back to the window.
“Hello there stalker of mine!” He screamed, and I groaned.
He just had to do it.
“Gerard, Aunt Elena wants you and Frank to come home at about five. She’s making steak!” Mikey cheered outside, and I laughed a little.
So enthusiastic. He didn’t know what the world expected from him.
Gerard looked at Frank and I then turned back to the window, “Mikey, walk through the front door go up the stairs and turn left in the upstairs hallway, we’re in the last door of that hallway. Hurry!”
Mikey had opened my front door, slammed it loudly, and his footsteps pounded on the wooden steps.
I was going to have to fix this house up if he kept treating it like a doll, now my house had bruises everywhere.
“Why did you want me up here?” Mikey asked, walking into my room.
His jaw dropped when he saw Frank, Gerard, and I all sitting on the bed.
“Want to join us?” Frank asked, patting a spot next to him at the end of the bed.
“Is this a bed party? I’m not ready to commit yet, Gerard!” He whispered, scared.
“We’re not doing anything! This is Ivory, the one I’ve been telling you about, she’s been learning to play bass. Isn’t that cool?” Gerard asked, and Frank nodded.
“That’s cool, bass players are the best!” Mikey approved.
We laughed, and talked for a while. They taught me over half their My Chemical Romance songs.
My favorite so far to play were: Mama, Teenagers, I Don’t Love You, I’m Not Okay (I Promise), Helena, Welcome to the Black Parade, Famous Last Words, and Ghost Of You.
These were possibly the best songs, and I loved them to death.
“I made another mind-joke.” I told them.
That’s what we called our jokes from our minds.
Mind-jokes. I created most of them, but Frank and Gerard had their moments, too. Mikey had them every few minutes, but he caught up with our mind-jokes quickly.
“What was it about this time?” Mikey asked, ready for the intake of it all.
“You know how some of your songs have to do with dying, or death? I was thinking about how much I love these songs to death.” I laughed lightly.
“Oh, now I get it.” Gerard and Mikey told me at the same time.
“Jinx! Double Jinx! Triple Jinx!” Mikey and Gerard screamed.
Frank and I huddled in the corner, fake scared.
“What are we going to do, Frank? We’re becoming savages!” I whispered. Frank was holding me in a tight embrace, and our eyes were wide for more feeling.
“I’m not sure, Ivory. All I know is we’re next!” We stared at each other and screamed in horrific thoughts.
“We’re not savages.” Gerard pouted, and Mikey nodded.
“Yea, like, we have to, like, text all. The. Time. Or else we’ll… die!” Mikey whispered sounding like a Prep. That made everyone laugh.
“That’s pretty good, Mikey. I didn’t know you had that in you! You’re inner Prep!” I smiled.
“Hey, you guys, it’s almost 4:57. You better get going.” I pointed out.
“Aw, OK. We’ll see you later, Ivory.” Frank pouted, hugging me. I gave him a hug back.
“See you tomorrow?” Mikey asked, and I nodded.
“Maybe you, Gerard, and Frank could have a sleep over. At a girls house! We’ll all release our inner Prep, and paint our fingernails neon black, and everything!” I joked, clapping my hands.
“I’ll take the sleepover offer.” Mikey told me, and I laughed. We hugged, and then they were walking downstairs.
“I’ll see you tomorrow for a sleepover, right Gerard?” I asked, and he smiled.
“Sure, I’ll bring my thick skull pajamas, and sleep with Frank.” I laughed.
“Don’t take them off just to sleep naked.” I pointed out, “we all know Frank will like that.”
“Oh, yea, thanks.” He leaned in, and I thought he was going to hug me. Turns out I was wrong.
For a moment, Gerard’s lips were upon mine, and I noticed the movement after it was done.
Gerard had kissed me. This was my first kiss.
What was this? Was I becoming too soft?