There Is No Formula for Love

Frank’s POV

It’s my first day at East Kingston High School and I feel just as anxious and nervous as any freshman wandering the wide hallways. I’m fresh out of college. I spent the last four years studying physics in New York City. I have a one-hour commute to the school every single day. I’ll have to get used to that.

Dr. McDowell, the school principal, really liked my resume, but wasn’t a fan of the tattoos that covered my arms and neck. I was a rebellious teenager, what can I say? I got the job anyway. He handed over all my paperwork and walked me down to the science building to present my new classroom to me. I’d only been there once two days prior to set things up. It was going to take a long time to learn all the halls and buildings in this school.

I sat down at my desk and yawned, completely exhausted after waking up at four to get ready, catch the subway, and then the city bus to get here. I wish I’d have chosen a school closer to home. Kingston is a nice little town, but I prefer Lower East Side, Manhattan.

I looked intently at the papers cluttering my desk; writing and doodling idly on them with the silver pencil my mother got me when I graduated. The warning bell sounded and students began trickling into the classroom, staring at me with amused expressions. I told them to sit wherever. A couple cocky seniors took the back two seats while everyone else sat in the first two rows.

When the tardy bell finally rang I sat up in my chair and pulled out my first period class roster. I called out the names, looking up after each one to mentally take note of who was who.

“Lucas Bernard?” I called. One of the seniors raised his hand, the leather of his letterman jacket squeaking. I could tell it was brand new. I fought off the urge to roll my eyes, recognizing the type of guy he most likely was. Look at me profiling my students in only five minutes.

“Gerard Way?” I said, finally reaching the end of my list. A skinny guy with a long black hair lifted his hand then set it down quickly to catch the page of the book he was reading. I smiled politely at him and began going over directions for the class.

“I’m Mr. Iero. I’m brand new here at East Kingston. I actually live in Manhattan so if you guys have any tips for me please tell me. I’m pretty laid back, but don’t take advantage of that. Your grade will most likely suffer. For this class you’ll need a calculator, a binder, a straightedge, a pencil, and your brain. Physics doesn’t come easy to most people so if you need any help I beg of you, please ask me for help. I want to see you all succeed. I know how important grades are for juniors and seniors. Now, let me assign you all your textbooks.”

A couple of kids groaned as I pulled up the pile of giant blue books. I couldn’t blame them. I always loathed carrying around my physics books, but it has to be done. I called the kids up again one by one to give them their books. When I got to Gerard Way he stood up at my desk for a moment, studying the cover of the book.

“I’m looking forward to this class.” He told me timidly. “Physics has always intrigued me, but I’m not very good at math.”

“Well, we can always work on the math, kid. It took me ages to get it down. Just come to me with any questions and I’ll help you out.”

“Thanks, Mr. Iero.” He started to turn, but stopped. “Oh, and I hope you packed your lunch. This school has the most horrifying food I’ve ever had the displeasure of eating.”

“Ha, thanks. I did actually.”

I gave him a thumbs-up and watched him sit back down. The class was leafing through their new text, grimacing at the pages they would soon be combing religiously for the next several months.

“Now, if you’ll open to page three I’d like to get started on the basics.”