Paper Faces On Parade

I groaned when I felt an insistent poking in my side. “Gavin? Gavin, come on, wake up. We have to go to school,” Cam cooed gently.

I grumbled a quick, “Fuck that,” as I rolled over. I was barely even awake, yet I could feel how hungover I was. My head was throbbing and I felt sick to my stomach – good excuse to stay home in bed today, right?

“Gavin, get up. You will go to school today, whether you like it or not,” all the softness in her voice was gone, instead replaced with stubborn firmness, letting me know that I wasn't getting out of this. I rolled back onto my back and cracked my eyes open. She had Tylenol and a bottle of water in her hand; she knew the drill.

I stuck my hand out for it, but she retracted the items out of my reach. She wagged her finger at me and said, “Not until you sit up. I need to know that you're going to go today.”

Whining, I slowly eased myself into a sitting position, the bubbling in my stomach already acting up. She handed me the medicine and I horked it down, begging for relief. I rubbed my temples afterwords, grumbling, “Do you need me to drive you to school today?”

She shook her head, “I'm taking the bus,” she glanced down at her watch and sighed. “It's gonna be here soon. Try not to be too late, okay?”

“Whatever,” I rose to my feet slowly, almost losing my balance, but catching myself before I could fall.

She leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before running out the room and down the stairs, calling up, “I better see you at school today! If not, I'll come back here and kick your ass!”

Before I could shout back a witty response, I heard the front door open and swing shut. I rolled my eyes and lifted my arms up to stretch, groaning at the satisfactory pop in my back. A sigh escaped my lips as I walked to my dresser, getting ready to actually start the day. I picked out a black and white Michael Jackson shirt and slipped into my black skinny jeans. I struggled into my white Vans slip-ons before stumbling out of the room and into the bathroom.

Granted, this entire process took more time than usual, probably due to my raging hangover.

I frowned when I saw that my hair was spewing in several different directions; I was not up for styling it right now. I grabbed a gray beanie from out of the sink drawer and pushed my hair back with a brush, trying to smooth it out. Once that was done, I settled the beanie on my head and left the bathroom.

I skipped down the stairs and grabbed my bookbag, my phone, my I-pod, and my keys before heading out the door – no way was I eating breakfast when I already felt so sick.

My car was a beat up wreck sitting in the middle of my drive way – but it was my beat up wreck, and I loved it. I threw my bag in the passenger seat and started her up, my Blink-182 CD beginning to play. I tapped my fingers along to the beat on the steering wheel as I drove off to school, already a good 20 minutes late for my first class.

XxXxX

Math was my first class of the day; which was just fantastic. I wanted nothing more than to look at problems that made no damn sense while I was having a hangover. What a way to start the day!

Can you feel the sarcasm dripping like fresh paint?

Of course, the second I stepped into class 45 minutes late, Mrs. Carroll had to throw a fit at me and ask me why I was so tardy. I passed her a shrug and went to my seat, ignoring her lecture of how this would be the last time I would show up late to her class – one more tardy, and she would take it up with the principal.

Funny; that's what she said last time.

As she got back to her lesson, I set my head down on the table, already feeling a ring in my ears. I felt a nudge to my side and looked over, spotting Kent looking at me smugly.

“You are so fucked over,” he laughed in a whisper. I frowned and flipped him off, honestly not feeling in the mood for his stupidity.

Only 5 minutes later, and he was talking again. He poked my shoulder and asked with wiggling eyebrows, “So, I saw you and Marcus last night. You get any?”

I rose a brow at him, “Marcus?”

He looked at me like I was a complete idiot. I tried to think back to the party last night, but most of it was pretty much a rush of alcohol, a lot of dancing, and that one guy-

“Oh, you mean that one brown haired kid?” he nodded slowly, as if still doubting my intelligence. “Nah; my sister cut in before I could have any fun.”

He rolled his eyes and punched me in the shoulder. “Damn, she's such a bitch.”

I scowled at him, “Watch your mouth – that's my little sister you're talking about. Don't make me punch you in the jeans.” He laughed and shook his head, like I was joking and messing around.

I wasn't kidding.

XxXxX

My next class was Art. I felt that it was God's way of apologizing for giving me such a horrid class in the beginning of the day. My stomach was aching and my head was burning, but I waltzed into the art room with a grin on my face. I didn't care that people were whispering rumors about me like they usually did, or pointing to the ever obvious hickeys on my neck – I probably should have covered those up... – because I was just too damn happy about being able to vent out on paper.

As I walked down the hall, I felt a pair of skinny hands wrap around my arm before giggles reached my ears. I rolled my eyes and looked down to see Carey attaching herself to me, her blond and pink hair bouncing and swaying as she walked with a bounce in her step.

“Did little Gavy Wavy get some dicky wicky last night?” she cooed at me, making sure to bump her hip teasingly against mine. “Cause rumor has it that you did!”

I rolled my eyes and looked down at her with a jut of my lips, trying to pull off that same cutesy face that she was giving me. “Why, Care Bear! Don't you know you're the only one for me?”

We broke into fits of laughter, causing the rest of the kids in the hallway to look at us strangely; but I didn't give two shits about them. They could think whatever they wanted of me – their opinion didn't matter.

“Oh, I should have known that you would stay faithful to me! I shouldn't trust those silly rumors!” she said once we calmed down; though, this only caused us to laugh again.

You see, Carey had been my first girlfriend. We'd been together for a few months before I came to terms with my sexuality. I'd spent months showering her with gifts and affection, trying to make up for the fact that I wanted to go out with guys instead of her. When I finally came out to her, through much stutters and tears, – after all, that was the first time I came out to anyone, and I was more than a little afraid to be rejected and shunned – she laughed and said, “Darling, I knew that about 2 months ago.”

We've been best friends ever since.

I think she's the only person that can get me to act how I used to; fun, humorous, hyper. I used to be an over-all nice guy, never dipping my toes into drugs, alcohol, parties, or smoking. I was a good-two-shoes, but when my parents started going away for long periods of time...

I guess you could say it changed me a bit.

Not that I care about them anymore.

“Of course, Care Bear! I love only you!” I gushed as we walked into the art room, all eyes shooting towards us with playful rolls and shakes of the head. After almost 4 years of being with the same people for this class, they grew to knew how we acted. These were people that I could fully get along with – it was my crowd.

Carey pulled away from me with a wink and a small wave before going over to her seat across the room. I blew a kiss at her teasingly and made her laugh. On the opposite side of the room, my easel sat with pride, a small stool resting in front of it. I sat down and lifted up the small sheet covering up my painting. I smiled at it sadly when I saw the furious splashes of red and black, dark purples running across like demons, fully portraying the betrayal and anger I felt.

I wonder – if I hung it up, would my parents even notice it when they returned home? Would they even realize what they do to me? Would they even give a fuck?

Cause I don't.

Nope.

Not at all.

XxXxX

I'd learned long ago that lunch is most definitely the best part of school, besides Art. It was the one time of the day where you could just kick back and talk with your friends, simply eat and not give a general shit.

Carey clung to my arm like she always did as we walked through the cafeteria, whistling as we made our way to the lunch line. I was just looking around the room when my eyes locked onto Cam – and some kid that I didn't know.

Call it over-protective, but I tended to keep tabs on the people Cam hung out with. Crazy? Possibly. Out of the ordinary? More than likely.

I just felt obligated, considering our parents weren't going to do it for me.

I scowled when I saw the kid; I'd never seen him before anywhere. That just didn't happen. I knew everybody. It didn't matter if it was because we were friends, because we slept together, or because I beat them up – I knew them. Even if I couldn't attach a name to a face, I could most definitely tell who they were.

I didn't like this kid.

“Whoa, Gav, cool the engines!” Carey joked, poking me in the ribs before letting go of my arm to grab her lunch tray and start down the line. “Who's the kid you're trying to destroy with your eyes?”

I shook my head and grabbed a tray, though my frown remained. “Do you know that kid hanging out with my little sister?” I tilted my head towards their table. She cocked her head to the side before looking over and blinking.

She shrugged, “Nope. Why?”

“I don't like him,” I grumbled, grabbing a bagged burger and throwing it in the middle of my tray.

Carey scoffed. “You don't even know him; how do you know that you don't like him?!” she asked incredulously, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“I just don't,” I hissed, my glare shooting through the back of the kid's skull.

Carey shook her head at me as she payed the cashier, grabbing my hand and leading us to our table once I gave up my money as well. She made sure to sit me down with my back towards that punk and plopped in the seat next to me.

Slowly but surely, the table filled up with the people I associate with; I wouldn't exactly call them all “friends” considering most were using me for the popularity and to get into all the good parties, but whatever. They were people I could talk to and laugh with, so I ignored their intentions.

XxXxX

My next two classes – English and Psychology – passed by in a blur. I couldn't take my mind off of the kid from earlier. I wanted to know who he was, what his intentions were for hanging out with my sister, why he was suddenly talking to her now.

Usually, Carey would talk to me throughout all of English – but I ignored her completely, something that is not normal for me at all. During Psychology, a class that Carey doesn't take, I would waste my time making jokes with Kent. But today, he seemed especially annoying. Try thinking deeply while having this kid blab on and on about God knows what. I assure you that by the end of the class, you'll want to punch him in the teeth.

When the day was finally over, I raced to my car and waited for Cam to show up. This was a little routine of ours; no matter what day it was, whether she rode with me in the morning or took the bus, she would let me drive her home. It was the time of the day where we could just talk. We didn't have any sort of excuse to do homework or hide upstairs. We were forced to sit down and just speak with each other, talk about how our day went and how much homework we had ahead of us. Sure, we could talk at home, but there would always be a reason to not converse with each other.

She probably didn't know it, but I loved the time I had with her – loved the times where she had to talk to me, whether she wanted to or not.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I whipped it out, reading through the text.

'I'm going to ride the bus home today. I made a new friend and I want to talk to him. See you at home.'

I clenched my teeth and shoved the device back in my pocket angrily. This had to have been the kid from earlier. It would explain why I didn't know him.

He was taking away my favorite time of the day.

I hated him already.