The Crumbling Pyramid

In celebration of Gerard’s success, the four of them met at Ray’s house for a weekend marathon of video games and awesome movies. They beat all of New Super Mario Brothers on the Wii, watched just about every super hero movie Ray had, and ate lots of pizza. Ray’s mom was happy to accommodate them as she usually did, making sure they were alright and weren’t doing anything really dangerous. But, then again, with them, video games were a dangerous adventure.

“Oh fuck no, Frank, I’m winning this race!” Mikey yelled, turning his wheel this way and that as they raced four player on Mario Kart Sunday afternoon. Frank just laughed maniacally and shot a banana behind him, stalling Mikey just long enough so he could win the race. “FUCK!” Mikey yelled, and he tackled Frank. Ray and Gerard nearly tied for third, and they just laughed as Frank stole Mikey’s glasses and ran away from him.

“You’ll never beat me, Mikes, I’m the King of Mario Kart!” Frank yelled, and then Mikey blindly tackled the shorter boy and got his glasses back.

“Another round. I’m going to fuckin’ beat you one day.”

“Guys, just—”

“Alright, let’s go! You and me, Mikey!” Frank cut off Ray, and he and Mikey scrambled back in front of the TV and started up their fierce battle.

“We’re going Gold Mine first.”

“Fine, then Maple Tree Grove.”

“Fine, then we’ll do fuckin’ Rainbow Road!”

“You’re on.”

As the two started racing, Ray and Gerard watched them from the couch, giving a running commentary on the race through Wario’s Gold Mine.

“And they’re off!” Ray called in a deep voice. “Yoshi immediately takes the lead, much to Luigi’s disappointment!”

“Shut up, Ray,” Mikey muttered, trying to shove Yoshi off the track.

“Oh! There goes Yoshi off the first jump, will he ever catch up?”

“Gerard,” Frank warned, his finger pressed so hard to the acceleration button it was turning as white as the remote.

“And OH! Luigi ran smack into a flock of bats!”

“Yoshi just employed some lightning in a desperate attempt to catch up to the leader, Princess Peach!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Mikey and Frank yelled together, both swerving and dodging and driving their little karts as fast as they could.

Ray and Gerard laughed, but they stopped their commentary. This was just how life should be – friends, competition, and a few good games. And not to mention as much pizza as you could eat.

-

Gerard was groggy at school the next day. He and Frank had stayed up until two playing Minecraft and watching Grease in hopes that it would get him ready to be in this show, but all it really did was make him tired as shit. He sort of drifted through his classes, especially in the morning. It was tempting to sleep during Acting on one of the couches, but he forced himself to stay away and come first rehearsal, Ray had brought him some coffee and he was awake and ready to go.

“Alright everyone, I want to say congrats for getting into Grease! We’re going to have a lot of fun and work hard, and I hope you enjoy it. Mr. Rose is going to run the vocal rehearsal today while I meet with the stage managers. Let’s make this show amazing,” Mr. Wind said, and everyone cheered. Mr. Rose started the warm ups on the piano, and everyone in the cast immediately started singing with him. Gerard found himself standing next to Anette, who grinned at him.

After warm ups, Mr. Rose split the chorus up into sections and they got to work learning Alma Mater, which Gerard thankfully already knew the words to. Then the chorus kids got to go home while the remaining cast members learned Summer Nights, another song Gerard knew. He had to admit, Dalton and Anette were both pretty amazing singers, and he could definitely see why they were cast in the roles they were. Dalton had this sort of cocky greaser attitude sometimes, and Anette was perfect for a love-struck, goody two-shoes girl.

They got out at about five thirty. Gerard sang to himself the entire way home, trying to keep in mind everything he had just learned, and then he ran the few lines he already knew. He was pretty proud of himself – he had never learned a part this quickly before. He wanted to at least learn all his lines in the first act by the end of the week.

“Gerard, get your nose out of that script and eat,” his mom commented sharply. Gerard looked up from his script, not even realizing that everyone else at the table was eating dinner.

“Sorry,” he said, marking his place, and helping himself to some mashed potatoes.

-

Mikey was running.

It was a dangerous thing to do for him, running. His heart got pounding too quickly, and then he started breathing harder and harder, until the asthma kicked in, then he couldn’t breathe at all. This was why he hated gym with a passion.

Mikey was already having a bad day. Andrew had tripped him in the hallway between Government and English, and he hadn’t quite managed to finish his art assignment, so now he was behind. And now, Coach Jordan was having them run laps on the field outside. It was a bit chilly, but that was to be expected – it was almost October. Mikey could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, wondering how many laps he had run. He didn’t remember, but instead though that this was probably the point, and that it was all part of Coach Jordan’s evil scheme to kill him through exercise.

There was a stitch in his chest now, and he feared an attack wouldn’t be far behind. But he was at the end of the track that was the furthest away from the school, and if he stopped, he’d get in trouble, maybe get a fail for the day. So he kept running, his breathing starting to get wheezy.

Before he knew what was really going on, Mikey was smashing into the concrete of the track, unable to breathe, his lungs on fire. A few people screamed, and he heard footsteps quickly approach him.

“Dammit, asthma,” he heard Coach Jordan swear. “Uh, Baker! I need you to stay with him, I’m going to get his inhaler. Where is it, Mikey?” she asked, leaning down to him.

“Pack,” he managed to wheeze out.

“Keep his head elevated,” Coach Jordan said before sprinting to the school, shouting at someone to go get the nurse. Mikey wondered for a split second if she even knew what his bag looked like. But he forgot this thought when his lungs felt like they were combusting.

In the noise of panic all around him, Mikey heard one calm, soothing voice. “Hang on Mikey, Coach’s running fast as she can.” He opened his eyes to find the world a big blur – his glasses must have fallen off. The blob above him was this white-gold one, and it was kneeling close to him. They pulled his head up into their lap, and he felt that maybe he could get a tiny bit more air. He couldn’t quite make out the words they were saying as they ran their fingers through his hair, but the voice was sweet and calming.

“It’s okay Mikey, just try and keep calm,” was one phrase that he caught. And he did, he really did, and it helped a tiny bit. But it was hard to be calm, because he couldn’t breathe for fuck’s sake. Blobs formed around him as the class started to satisfy their curiosity. He thought he heard Andrew calling him a faggot, as usual, but he didn’t care. He just tried to focus on living, because that was far more important. But damn, he really wished he could see.

Coach Jordan was back in a few minutes with his inhaler in hand, and Mikey took a shaky breath from it. The medicine creeped down his windpipe and he felt a little relief. After several doses, he was breathing easier and his chest didn’t feel like it would explode anymore.

By the time the nurse got there, Coach had dispersed the rest of the class to the locker rooms and instructed the person holding him to help him to the nurse’s office. And so they helped Mikey up and walked shakily across the track and into the school. “I’ve got your glasses,” the person said reassuringly.

“Thanks,” Mikey mumbled.

When they got to the office, the bell rang signaling the next class was about to start. Mikey groaned. Great, now he was going to miss History. Could this day get any shittier?

“Set him here,” the nurse said, and he was set down on a blob that turned out to be a bed. He was handed his glasses, and he shoved them on his face, making the world come back into focus.

The first thing he saw made his stomach twinge unpleasantly. Standing in front of him was Anette Baker, a worried expression on her face, her white-blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, and still wearing her gym shorts and baggy tee-shirt. Had it really been her that had stayed with him? Yeah, it was, now that he thought about it. Coach had told her to.

“You feeling better?” she asked in a small voice.

Mikey was stunned. Why the hell had she, a motherfucking prep, been helping him? Even caring whether he was okay or not? Shouldn’t she be in History, laughing it up with her table of friends about how Mikey Way biffed it on the track and nearly died? But no, she was there, she had helped him, and now she was looking at the floor, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks.

“Fine,” he finally spat out. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She kept looking at the floor until the nurse came over. “I’ll go get your bag,” she said, and then walked out of the room.

She was back a little less than two minutes later. She had changed back into her uniform, let her hair down, and was carrying both her own and his bag. She set his bag down by the bed, said, “I’ll tell Zeiner what happened,” and then left again, looking embarrassed.

And that was the greatest mystery of the day, and it drove Mikey mental, because he could not figure her out.