The Plague of Popularity
The Way You Reject Me.
Poser.
Loser.
Queer.
Fag.
Homo.
Bastard.
Pretty-boy.
Just a few of the words that were thrown at me as I walked into the doors of school and to my classes for the first half of the day. I was sitting at a lunch table with Gerard across from and Mikey on my left. Both had eyes full of pure shock, sympathy and anger; one of the jocks had just poured his milk over my head.
Yes, he emptied his milk carton on my head—like in the movies. The quarterback had been accepted into the realm of Travis and Dan—just what we needed. It was like our school was the world and each clique its own foreign country—alliances were formed all day long.
The freaks, the losers, the kids who didn’t fit in were on one side and everyone else was on the other. The nerdy kids took a stand in the middle for a while—the jocks promised protection as some of ‘us’ fought back. Our world was going to have a world war three by the end of the week—it was unavoidable.
Anger coursed through my veins as the milk dribbled down my face and my torso—soaking into my jeans. I was going to smell horrible by the end of the day—they were not going to win. I could only sit in utter humiliation as I felt eyes on me—judging thisnew me.
In every single class eyes wandered to me—even from my teachers. Had they never seen a boy wear all black before? Had they never seen a kid get milk poured all over him before? Had they never had to hold back tears of utter frustration and despair? Had they never been picked on—teased?
The bell sounded for the end of the day; I rushed to my locker—Travis shoved me inside. He hit the door continuously, causing a headache to form instantly—I could hear the laughter just beyond the thin metal door. I was grateful for my small frame; it wasn’t painful being crammed inside such a small space.
Someone was coming, I heard laughter die down—the hitting stopped. I heard it, his voice—my saving grace.
“Open the locker Travis.”
“You hear that Frankie-boy, your lover boy’s come to save the day.”
I heard a sound as if someone were shoved against the lockers—just a few down.
“Open the goddamn locker right now or so help you I don’t rip your fucking head off.”
You had to be a complete and utter idiot to miss the pure threat that hung on each and every single one of Gerard’s words. I heard Dan’s laugh and Travis’ weak chuckle.
“You wouldn’t dare. Why wait till now to stand up for yourself Way?”
“I’m not defending myself you fucking idiot, Frank’s in his locker. I’ll ask once more, nicely, open the fucking locker and I won’t rip your head off.”
Travis must’ve refused to answer or he’s the one that threw the swing. I heard skin on skin contact, someone just got punched. I heard the crowd around them make those mundane sounds—the ‘oohs’ and gasps, a few cheers. I heard shuffled sounds as a few more hits were thrown; I heard my lock being fumbled with as the hits were still flying.
My door flew open and I fell out into Mikey’s awaiting arms; my eyes immediately flying towards Gerard and Travis’s forms. Travis was pinned beneath Gerard, hands blocking blow to his face; his nose already bloody, with a rapidly coloring eye.
“Gee, leave him be, he’s not worth it.”
His eyes locked onto my own as a fist was in the air; Travis let his guard down and lowered his arms, his gaze locking onto my form. Gerard gave me a small nod; he brought his fist down—and hard—onto Travis’ jaw. He gave me a sheepish grin as if to say he couldn’t help himself—well if the opportunity arises why not take it.
That’s the thing about our school—the teachers don’t care. A few were in the crowd, just watching the display of animosity between their students. If they were to actually do their jobs they’d have pulled Gee and Travis apart; forcing them to the principal’s office. Then again, the saw how forceful Gerard was throwing punches—perhaps they didn’t want to take a blow.
Gerard pulled into his arms, nuzzling his face into my neck, giving me a small kiss.
“Ew, you really smell.”
I felt him chuckle against me as he gave me another squeeze. He pulled away and crinkled his nose—he had a red mark on his right cheek. I can’t say I’ve never had someone take a punch for me—Mikey did that yesterday. He took my hand; his head held high and led me to the door.
I knew from that display the war had begun; the ‘rulers’ had attacked, they had made their moves. We were in for one of the hardest battles we were ever going to fight and I was ready. I knew that no matter what was going to happen, so long as I had Mikey and Gerard on either side of me, I could handle anything—even learning who I was myself.
Loser.
Queer.
Fag.
Homo.
Bastard.
Pretty-boy.
Just a few of the words that were thrown at me as I walked into the doors of school and to my classes for the first half of the day. I was sitting at a lunch table with Gerard across from and Mikey on my left. Both had eyes full of pure shock, sympathy and anger; one of the jocks had just poured his milk over my head.
Yes, he emptied his milk carton on my head—like in the movies. The quarterback had been accepted into the realm of Travis and Dan—just what we needed. It was like our school was the world and each clique its own foreign country—alliances were formed all day long.
The freaks, the losers, the kids who didn’t fit in were on one side and everyone else was on the other. The nerdy kids took a stand in the middle for a while—the jocks promised protection as some of ‘us’ fought back. Our world was going to have a world war three by the end of the week—it was unavoidable.
Anger coursed through my veins as the milk dribbled down my face and my torso—soaking into my jeans. I was going to smell horrible by the end of the day—they were not going to win. I could only sit in utter humiliation as I felt eyes on me—judging thisnew me.
In every single class eyes wandered to me—even from my teachers. Had they never seen a boy wear all black before? Had they never seen a kid get milk poured all over him before? Had they never had to hold back tears of utter frustration and despair? Had they never been picked on—teased?
The bell sounded for the end of the day; I rushed to my locker—Travis shoved me inside. He hit the door continuously, causing a headache to form instantly—I could hear the laughter just beyond the thin metal door. I was grateful for my small frame; it wasn’t painful being crammed inside such a small space.
Someone was coming, I heard laughter die down—the hitting stopped. I heard it, his voice—my saving grace.
“Open the locker Travis.”
“You hear that Frankie-boy, your lover boy’s come to save the day.”
I heard a sound as if someone were shoved against the lockers—just a few down.
“Open the goddamn locker right now or so help you I don’t rip your fucking head off.”
You had to be a complete and utter idiot to miss the pure threat that hung on each and every single one of Gerard’s words. I heard Dan’s laugh and Travis’ weak chuckle.
“You wouldn’t dare. Why wait till now to stand up for yourself Way?”
“I’m not defending myself you fucking idiot, Frank’s in his locker. I’ll ask once more, nicely, open the fucking locker and I won’t rip your head off.”
Travis must’ve refused to answer or he’s the one that threw the swing. I heard skin on skin contact, someone just got punched. I heard the crowd around them make those mundane sounds—the ‘oohs’ and gasps, a few cheers. I heard shuffled sounds as a few more hits were thrown; I heard my lock being fumbled with as the hits were still flying.
My door flew open and I fell out into Mikey’s awaiting arms; my eyes immediately flying towards Gerard and Travis’s forms. Travis was pinned beneath Gerard, hands blocking blow to his face; his nose already bloody, with a rapidly coloring eye.
“Gee, leave him be, he’s not worth it.”
His eyes locked onto my own as a fist was in the air; Travis let his guard down and lowered his arms, his gaze locking onto my form. Gerard gave me a small nod; he brought his fist down—and hard—onto Travis’ jaw. He gave me a sheepish grin as if to say he couldn’t help himself—well if the opportunity arises why not take it.
That’s the thing about our school—the teachers don’t care. A few were in the crowd, just watching the display of animosity between their students. If they were to actually do their jobs they’d have pulled Gee and Travis apart; forcing them to the principal’s office. Then again, the saw how forceful Gerard was throwing punches—perhaps they didn’t want to take a blow.
Gerard pulled into his arms, nuzzling his face into my neck, giving me a small kiss.
“Ew, you really smell.”
I felt him chuckle against me as he gave me another squeeze. He pulled away and crinkled his nose—he had a red mark on his right cheek. I can’t say I’ve never had someone take a punch for me—Mikey did that yesterday. He took my hand; his head held high and led me to the door.
I knew from that display the war had begun; the ‘rulers’ had attacked, they had made their moves. We were in for one of the hardest battles we were ever going to fight and I was ready. I knew that no matter what was going to happen, so long as I had Mikey and Gerard on either side of me, I could handle anything—even learning who I was myself.