Last Year of High School

Gerard and I walked to the cafeteria. We spotted an empty table, and went to claim it. More students began to arrive as we sat down. Everyone sat with the same people they sat with last year, nothing was new, and everyone was still in the same clique. When everyone had arrived for his or her lunch period, there were more people sitting with Gerard and me. Pete, Gabe, Bob, Ray, Ryland Joe, Nate, Andy and Zack now sat with us. So basically, it was all the band students in their senior year. The table was filled with mindless chatter. Everyone was laughing and having fun. It wasn’t until Justin arrived that the chatter stopped. It grew dead silent, and everyone was pissed, including me. “Hey band fags,” he said. “What the fuck do you want, Justin?” Gerard questioned. “Watch your ton, Geetard, or I might just have to shove poor Frank in a locker again.” Frank being so small was an easy target. Gerard looked murderous. “You even go near Frank, and I swear I’ll—” “Boys! Is there a problem?” Mr. Smid interrupted. Mr. Smid was our vice principal, and was a real hardass. “No sir,” said Justin, in a sickeningly sweet voice, “I just need to tell them something important.” Mr. Smid walked away. Justin waited until he was out of earshot, before saying “Well, it’s too late for poor Frank, I’m afraid. And Ryan? You might want to accompany him on this trip, I think you’ll find something very interesting in locker 227.” Fuck.

~~~
Gerard and I were fuming, too pissed off to even speak to each other. The only sound was our footsteps, and Gerard’s mumbling of curse words. We walked until we heard banging on the lockers. The hallway was empty, so they must have heard us coming. We followed the banging a few lockers down and sure enough; it was coming from 226 and 227. “Always the same locker, the little prick…” I heard Gerard say. I stood in front of 227. “Brendon?” “Ryan! How did you find me?” “The asshole dropped a hint. Do you know the combination?” Gerard was already turning the dial on the locker Frank was in. “I should, it’s my locker, It’s 14-37-92.” I turned the dial to the combination and Brendon stepped down. “Thank you, sir,” he said, pecking me on the cheek. Where do you two belong?” Gerard asked. “Chemistry. We were going to chemistry. Then fuck-face came and, well, you know the drill.” Said Frank. “C’mon, we’ll explain things to Mrs. Clark. She’ll believe us.” I said, indicating Gerard and me. We were her favorite students last year. We walked down the hall to Mrs. Clark’s room. Brendon and Frank entered first. “Mind explaining why you boys are so late?” Mrs. Clark asked. “We can tell you that,” said Gerard, “they were walking to class and Justin came along and—” “Ugh, you don’t need to say anymore. I swear I’ve written him up more times than I can remember. What is it now, 57?” “Sounds about right,” I said. She went back to her desk and began filling something out, probably a referral sheet. “I’ll see you later,” Gerard said to Frank, pecking him on the lips. I noticed Brendon watching somewhat blissfully, so I kissed him on the cheek and left, leaving him looking absolutely ecstatic.