Goody, Like Two Shoes

When Monday came and Frank and I walked into school, hand in hand, the looks we got were those of astonishment.

Frank couldn't help but snort when I told him about my dad coming home from a business dinner at one in the morning, found me in the kitchen raiding the fridge, and threatened to phone the police.
Once he realised that it was me, not some stranger that had walked into his house and decided to steal his food, he'd hugged me and said that I looked stunning.

So, on our way to our lockers before class, whispers flew around the halls, "Is that Sasha Rowlands?!", "Are they holding hands?!"

Frank was tougher than I was, and he was able to block out the remarks; but I, on the other hand, could feel my cheeks reddening.

Frank helped me get my books from my locker, he even offered to carry my bag; he was being the perfect gentleman, and I think I knew why, too.

"You sure I can't take your bag, Sash?" Frank asked, tilting his head.

"No, thanks, it's okay; I'm managing." I replied, walking up the stairs with Frank close behind.

"Okay, if you're sure." he smiled, walking alongside me when we reached the first floor.

"Why are you so smiley, Frank?" I asked, nudging him.

"Is there a law against me being happy?" he chuckled, nudging me back.

"No, but you're never this cheerful on a Monday. You hate Mondays; especially Monday mornings."

"I'm just happy, okay?" he grinned, grabbing my hands and walking backwards so he could look at me while we talked, "Have you not noticed the posters up on the notice boards?"

"Uhm, maybe..." I smiled.

"Halloween Dance!" he cheered, swinging my hands frantically, "My birthday. You. Me. Mikey. Gerard is supervising. Let's get drunk on punch!"

I raised an eyebrow at him, "I've never been to any of these fancy, school occasions."

"See," Frank spluttered, "I'm taking your Halloween Dance virginity, too!"

"So you're taking me to this dance, are you?" I teased him, manoeuvring us both to the side so Frank wouldn't trip backwards over a schoolbag.

"Well, that's what I wanted to ask you... Do you want to be my date?"

I could feel those butterflies return to my stomach.

"Your date?"

"Yeah, whatever you want to call it. I'll be your escort, your chaperon, your companion, your squire; you know you'd make up any excuse to have me as your Dracula for the evening." Frank winked, letting go of my hands to open the door into the empty art room - except for a sleepy Gerard sitting in his swivel-chair with his legs up on his desk.

He waved lazily at us, sipping from the polystyrene, Starbucks cup he held in one hand, "Take a seat, kiddies, and finish up your portraits. Without drowning eachother in paint like last week."

Frank and I smiled at each other innocently, pulling our sketchpads from our bags, and
he tossed a scrunched up piece of paper at me, "I'll have to start from scratch; you look a lot different to when I started drawing."

I threw the paper ball back at him and reached into the small desk-drawer for some paints, "Okay."

The next ten minutes, until the bell finally rang, were uneventful; save for the small talk that passed between Gerard, Frank and I.

Taking a break from painting, Frank and I began to play tick-tack-toe on a piece of scrap paper as the rest of the class walked in.

Damn, I'd had a strategy for this game since I was six years old, but, today, Frank won four times in a row.

I was too busying staring at him to actually concentrate; the way he smiled, the way he wiggled his fingers when he thought, the way he giggled and slapped the desk when he won.

"Have you had enough of getting beaten?" Frank smiled innocently, chewing on his bottom lip.

"I'd win if--" I began.

"You win if what?"

Shit. I was going to say something along the lines of "I'd win if I could actually keep my eyes off you".

"Oh, you know, if I wasn't so tired."

"No wonder you're tired! You'd been sitting on my bed since four AM, waiting, just waiting, for me to wake up so you could scream in my ear.'

"I was not sitting on your bed since four; it was half seven. And, anyway, me screaming made you get up quicker - even your mom said that."

"Well, missy, I would appreciate if you didn't sit on my bed for half an hour when I slept, and scream at me again; a hug would do the job."

"'I'll keep that in mind."

"So you should."

He pulled me into a random hug before pushing me under the table to get the pencil sharpener he'd just dropped.

A certain pair of black, leather shoes squeaked up to the table, and a certain Mr. Gerard Way tutted, "What are you doing under there, Sasha? Are you giving him a blo-- Not in my class, I say!"

He pulled me out from under the table and hugged me, stroking my hair, "Frankie, don't be so much of a sex fiend. Only last week did you try to rape her on the floor! There, there, Sasha. I'll castrate him; don't you worry, my poor baby."

He patted the back of my head before shooing me back to my seat, 'Protection. Remember that: use protection.'

Frank and I looked at each other, turning red and stuttering.

"Ha, I see that I've made this moment suitably awkward." With that, Gerard scurried over to the other side of the class to a boy who had just stapled his sleeve to his schoolbag.

"Yeah, soooooo..." Frank began, "You never answered me about coming to the dance."

A shadow loomed over us, and, when we looked up, Millie stared wide-eyed at me.

Frank giggled quietly beside me, returning his attention to his painting.

"What have you done to yourself?" Millie gawped.

I shrugged in response, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"I need to talk to you. Now.'"
She grabbed my arm with such a force that I thought she'd seriously rip it from its socket.

And that's where Frank stepped in, glaring, "Get your hands off her."

Knight inshining armour a red t-shirt and black jeans, anyone?

Millie let go of my arm like she'd just been burnt, and yelled, "Look what you've done to my best friend, Iero!"

Frank stood up, smirking, "She doesn't seem to be your best friend anymore, does she, eh?"

I could see the tears welling up in Millie's eyes, "Why have you changed, Sasha? Look what he's done to you... You always said that you'd never change who you were. For anyone."

I was going to say that I may have changed my appearance, but I was still dorky on the inside; but I never had a chance to say this because Millie began talking again.

"You look like a seven cent hooker!" Was all she managed to yell before running from the room.

"Fuck you!" Frank shouted after her.

I stared down at my hands, trying to ignore the fact that the entire class had seen and heard that little argument, in its entirety.

Frank put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back onto my seat, "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, "She just said I looked like a prostitute; of course I'm not okay."

Frank sat down, dragging his chair closer to me, "She's trying to hold you back."

"What?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"People areallowed to change, you know. I didn't force you to change, did I? I was helping you out. But you still have your old personality, you're still the geeky, lovable Sasha who has the hots for English men. Look at me; I've changed, too."

I smiled weakly, "How did you know about the English men thing?"

"I just know." he shyly touched my cheek, "I know a lot about you. Best friends know everything about each other, don't they?"

The butterflies were fluttering, full force.
'Best friends?"

"Best friends." Frank smiled, "And, by the way, you don't look like a hooker. If you did, I'd be the first to tell you."

The rest of the day went by slowly for once; even though I sat next to Frank in every class, except Health, and he tried to keep me entertained as we wrote.

After school, Mikey, Frank and I made our way back to Frank's, throwing our bags under the hall table before racing to the kitchen, grabbing three packets of Quavers, and hurrying out the front door again.

I walked in between Mikey and Frank, my arm linked in Mikey's, and my hand in Frank's.

We were on our way back to school to get a lift into Newark with Gerard, after he'd finished his staff meeting though.

"You've never been trick-or-treating before?" Mikey asked, horrified.

I shook my head.

"I've always been trick-or-treating." Mikey said, "But it was never really exciting until I met Frank. The Halloweens, after I met him, have always better - a birthday party and trick-or-treating rolled into one."

"Taking your trick-or-treating virginity, too!" Frank pointed out.

"Hey, I dibs half of that virginity!" Mikey squawked.

"But she's my best friend!" Frank retorted, "I should have it all."

"But she's my biology-buddy!"

Frank grinned, "Sucks for you then."

"Why are you fighting over me?" I asked, slapping Mikey's arm before he had a chance to make a comeback at Frank.

"Because you have really good hair." Mikey said.

"Well, I'm flattered, boys. Fight amongst yourselves."

They play-fought over me all the way to the school; they pushed and shoved each other, hit, pinched and kicked, then they resorted to name calling after Mikey had fallen off the sidewalk and Frank had walked into a lamppost.

"Kiss my forehead better!" Frank pleaded, pointing at the small bump.

"Kiss my arm better!" Mikey shoved Frank out of the way, and pointed at his grazed elbow, "You love me more."

"She loves me more. Have you ever shared a bed with her, Mikes?"

Mikey shook his head.

"Well then, I win."

"No you don't! That's a stupid reason!" Mikey pouted.

"Have you ever made breakfast for her?"

Mikey shook his head again.

"I have, so I win."

Gerard pushed himself off the hood of his car, flicking both Frank and Mikey in the head when we reached him, 'Even though I have no idea what you're talking about, I win. At life. Guess what; I've been offered a permanent teaching position here!'