I'm Sorrier Than You Can Know
Four
The look on Frankie’s face was one of shame, regret, and incomprehension. Led in by the nurse, Brendan stood in the doorway and surveyed Frankie, who was staring at the ceiling with the same pained expression. He seemed to be ignoring Brendan, so he took a step closer to the bed and stared.
“Why did you do it?”
Frankie shrugged slightly, his right hand gently stroking the bandage wrapped around his left wrist.
“Frankie! Answer me! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Brendan found himself shouting. Frankie looked at him, taken aback, and there was fear in his eyes.
“I…I’m sorry…Bren, I’m sorry…”
“Frankie…You’re being so…spontaneous. You need to chill out. I don’t see why you want to die.”
“I dunno. There’s something wrong with me. My father hates me, my mother didn’t care about me, you don’t care about me…”
His voice barely a whisper, Frankie shot a glance in Brendan’s direction.
“What the hell makes you think there’s something wrong with you? And of course your mom loved you, and cared about you, she was always there for you!”
“Well if she cared she wouldn’t have left me! And neither would you!” Frankie sat up in his hospital bed, and stared straight into Brendan’s beautiful, icy blue eyes.
“I fucking care about you, Frankie, but you being such a fucking drama queen makes me care less! The world isn’t out to get you!”
The nurse stuck her head into the room and announced that Brendan’s time was up. Without another word, he departed, bumping hard into Frankie’s father’s shoulder as he passed.
Frankie never saw Brendan again.
The boxes and furniture disappeared from the front porch of Brendan’s house, and Frankie was alone.
The first day of school arrived, along with a pile of new fears and daunting textbooks. Ridicule lingered on the faces of people as Frankie trudged the short path up to the school. The wolf-whistles, the coughs, the whispers, they trailed after Frankie like a ribbon banner. The only greeting Frankie got was from his friend Michelle, and Mrs. Rezk, the art teacher.
“Frankie, hug me.” An unusual amount of sincerity appeared on Michelle’s face as she pulled Frankie into the embrace.
“Brendan told me what happened,”
“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s in the past.” Frankie continued to walk, staring straight ahead. The empathy in Michelle took over, and she changed the subject.
“Painted anything lately?”
Sigh.
“9B, it’s not the holidays anymore, so can we please keep the chatter down?” Mr. Diegel glowered at his form class.
“We have a new student in the class, everyone, this is Ben.”
Twenty-six heads turned to look at a boy with blonde hair and snakebites, who looked as if he was hiding behind the fringe that swept across his face. Pulling his sleeves further over his hands, Ben gave a small, embarrassed wave to the class and looked back down at the desk.
All Frankie could think was “don’t fail me now, gaydar.”
A small drawing of an angel appeared in the corner of Frankie’s blank page, much to Mr. Diegel’s annoyance.
“Frank, stop wasting time and go sit next to Ben. You know, show him around, get him used to the school.” What he meant was, “You Emo kids should all be friends, and stay away from the normal people.” His eyes strayed to the foundation on Frankie’s cheeks, and the eyeliner he had struggled to apply subtly.
“Right.”
Frankie slammed his books down next to Ben’s, and sat down. Ben looked up, with surprise in his dark blue eyes.
“Hi, I’m Frankie. Um…welcome to Berkeley public highschool, the worst school you could possibly have gone to.” The two boys smiled as they comically shook hands, and Ben finally managed to find his voice.
“Uh…I’m Ben, I just moved here from San Fran, and do you have any eyeliner on you?”
Laughing, Frankie produced the black pencil from the pocket of his jacket. Ben didn’t seem to need a mirror; he traced around his eyes carefully and perfectly with the pencil and handed it to Frankie.
“Thanks.” With the freshly-applied eyeliner and a small smile, Ben looked even cuter.
“Why did you do it?”
Frankie shrugged slightly, his right hand gently stroking the bandage wrapped around his left wrist.
“Frankie! Answer me! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Brendan found himself shouting. Frankie looked at him, taken aback, and there was fear in his eyes.
“I…I’m sorry…Bren, I’m sorry…”
“Frankie…You’re being so…spontaneous. You need to chill out. I don’t see why you want to die.”
“I dunno. There’s something wrong with me. My father hates me, my mother didn’t care about me, you don’t care about me…”
His voice barely a whisper, Frankie shot a glance in Brendan’s direction.
“What the hell makes you think there’s something wrong with you? And of course your mom loved you, and cared about you, she was always there for you!”
“Well if she cared she wouldn’t have left me! And neither would you!” Frankie sat up in his hospital bed, and stared straight into Brendan’s beautiful, icy blue eyes.
“I fucking care about you, Frankie, but you being such a fucking drama queen makes me care less! The world isn’t out to get you!”
The nurse stuck her head into the room and announced that Brendan’s time was up. Without another word, he departed, bumping hard into Frankie’s father’s shoulder as he passed.
Frankie never saw Brendan again.
The boxes and furniture disappeared from the front porch of Brendan’s house, and Frankie was alone.
The first day of school arrived, along with a pile of new fears and daunting textbooks. Ridicule lingered on the faces of people as Frankie trudged the short path up to the school. The wolf-whistles, the coughs, the whispers, they trailed after Frankie like a ribbon banner. The only greeting Frankie got was from his friend Michelle, and Mrs. Rezk, the art teacher.
“Frankie, hug me.” An unusual amount of sincerity appeared on Michelle’s face as she pulled Frankie into the embrace.
“Brendan told me what happened,”
“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s in the past.” Frankie continued to walk, staring straight ahead. The empathy in Michelle took over, and she changed the subject.
“Painted anything lately?”
Sigh.
“9B, it’s not the holidays anymore, so can we please keep the chatter down?” Mr. Diegel glowered at his form class.
“We have a new student in the class, everyone, this is Ben.”
Twenty-six heads turned to look at a boy with blonde hair and snakebites, who looked as if he was hiding behind the fringe that swept across his face. Pulling his sleeves further over his hands, Ben gave a small, embarrassed wave to the class and looked back down at the desk.
All Frankie could think was “don’t fail me now, gaydar.”
A small drawing of an angel appeared in the corner of Frankie’s blank page, much to Mr. Diegel’s annoyance.
“Frank, stop wasting time and go sit next to Ben. You know, show him around, get him used to the school.” What he meant was, “You Emo kids should all be friends, and stay away from the normal people.” His eyes strayed to the foundation on Frankie’s cheeks, and the eyeliner he had struggled to apply subtly.
“Right.”
Frankie slammed his books down next to Ben’s, and sat down. Ben looked up, with surprise in his dark blue eyes.
“Hi, I’m Frankie. Um…welcome to Berkeley public highschool, the worst school you could possibly have gone to.” The two boys smiled as they comically shook hands, and Ben finally managed to find his voice.
“Uh…I’m Ben, I just moved here from San Fran, and do you have any eyeliner on you?”
Laughing, Frankie produced the black pencil from the pocket of his jacket. Ben didn’t seem to need a mirror; he traced around his eyes carefully and perfectly with the pencil and handed it to Frankie.
“Thanks.” With the freshly-applied eyeliner and a small smile, Ben looked even cuter.