On Top of the World

[[Frank's POV]]

"Have a good day, honey!"

God, mother. How could anyone be so irritating so early in the damn morning?

"Thanks," I muttered, stepping out of the safety of my mom's big SUV and on to the rather large front lawn of Crystal Falls High School.

Damn Mikeyfor talking me into transferring to this school. Sure, it was amazing that I'd get to spend my first year of high school with him, but judging from the disapproving looks that these kids were giving me, I could already tell that this was a bad idea.

It wasn't a private school, which sure could have fooled me. The lawn was cluttered with the kinds of people that looked down on kids like me. They were the stuck-up preppy type of people that were close-minded and looked down on the kind of kids that dared to be different. Kids like me, for example, that preferred wearing my beat up old Chucks that were no comparison to the expensive name brand shoes they were wearing. Don't get me wrong, my family had money. I just didn't see the need in buying new shoes when these were still the most amazingly comfortable shoes I've ever worn.

I smoothed the fringe that hung in front of my face, and stopped to take a good look at my peers. I swear I've never seen so many polo or button up shirts before in my life. Everyone looked so expensive and 'put-together', like they just stepped out of a god damn Abercrombie catalog or something. One girl even had a fucking sweater draped over her shoulders. What the hell, it's still hot outside!

Not a drop of black nail polish adorned anyone else's fingers but my own. Did these people not believe in wearing band tees or jeans with rips and tears in them? It seemed like I was the only one. Even the kids that looked like they would be nerds or emo kids looked like them! I shook my head and trudged along towards the big, tall doors that led to the inside of my new hell.

"Frankie!"

I turned around to see my best friend and partner-in-crime running over to me, pushing his glasses up his nose as he did so. I grinned at him and gave him a high five when he reached me. I smiled even bigger when I noticed he was wearing a Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt and his ratty old Vans. I didn't feel so left out anymore.

"Hey Mikey. How are you today?" I asked, suddenly cheerful. Seriously, I loved this kid so much. Maybe this is why he wanted me to come to school with him...

"Hey man! I-"

"Fags!" someone called out, making both Mikey and I whip our heads in the direction of the big herd of letterman-jacket-wearing group of guys that stood off to the side of the school's big double doors.

So much for my cheerfulness...

"Well, that about sums it up. Thank goodness you're here, Frankie. I don't know what I would have done without you, man! Come on, let's go in," he said, leading the way. Mikey ignored the things that the football clique was shouting out at us as we walked past them. He was talking a million miles a minute, but I wasn't paying attention.

Instead, I stared them down. I wasn't about to let those guys know that I was scared of them, or worse... that I actually was a 'fag'. Oh God, if they knew, they'd drill me straight into the ground and I couldn't have that. So, I pretended like I simply didn't give a fuck and stared straight back at them.

Each one of them looked like a complete and utter douche bag, with their same douche bag haircuts and the same douche bag expressions on their faces.

But then I saw him. This tall, spiky-haired angel that stood out from the rest of them. He was gorgeous. He was beautiful. And holy fuck, the jeans that he wore on those long legs of his were even tighter than mine. I didn't even know that was possible!

I continued to walk by him and his friends, this time making eye contact with him. His eyes were even prettier than I could have imagined. They sparkled a brilliant shade of blue.

And dear God, he was even wearing eyeliner! You could barely tell but since I wear it everyday, I know exactly when another guy within a ten mile radius is wearing it, too. This guy was absolutely perfect; he literally took my breath away. I kept my eyes on him the entire time, making him see that I was interested in at least being his friend.

There was one thing that was out of place, though: that letterman's jacket. I sighed, realizing he was probably too good to be true.

But still... even though he probably was "one of the jocks", I couldn't help but feel like there was something special about him. After all, that was a smirk on his face. Was it a flirtatious smirk, or an 'I-wanna-kick-your-ass' smirk? Suddenly I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to find out what that 'something special' about him was.

"Frankie?"

I snapped back to reality and returned my attention to Mikey. He was giving me a very annoyed look, but I shrugged it off. "Did you hear a single word I just said?"

"Of course, Mikey. Every word. Now let's head off to English," I said, leading the way to God knows where. I really had no clue where I was taking us, I was just walking along with my hands in my pocket and my head in the clouds.

"But we have Spanish first period-"

"Exactly. Spanish. That's what I said," I replied, cutting him off. He gave me a light smack on the head and we walked off in the right direction of our first period class.

* Time Lapse *

Locker 311... I kept repeating to myself. I had been trying to find my locker for the past ten minutes and if I didn't hurry up and find it, I was going to be late meeting Mikey for lunch.

"Yes!" I said out loud when I found it, quickly glancing around to make sure nobody heard me. Lucky for me, the coast was clear. I giggled at how silly I was being, and began to fiddle with the combination. After about six tries, the damn thing finally opened.

"Well well well, if it isn't that little emo fagboy from earlier!"

I shoved my books in and slammed my locker shut, rather hard just for dramatic effect.

I then turned to see these two jock guys, wearing those stupid letterman jackets just like before. But they weren't alone. They'd brought my spiky-haired angel along with them. He sure was a sight for sore eyes...

"What's your name, kid?" The big one asked.

"Frank-"

"No, your name's fagboy. Isn't that right, Martin?"

He turned to the blue-eyed piece of perfection that stood next to him. His name was Martin. It was a pretty name that suited him... quite perfectly.

Shut up, Frank! Quit gushing over this guy, and get it together! I scolded myself, desperately trying to figure out why he was having this crazy effect on me. He continued to stare at me, not bothering to answer his big goon of a friend.

"Martin, hello, what the hell-?"

"I heard you, Jason," Martin snapped at him, rolling his eyes. Even his voice was angelic. Something about his demeanor told me he wasn't getting the same kicks out of this whole 'torture-the-emo-boy-act' that his friends were playing, which led me to wonder... what exactly was he doing here?

"Then make sure he knows what his name is, okay? Come on Ryan, let's go. This is a good one for Martin to warm up on, since he's not a freshman anymore he gets to see how much fun we had with him last year!"

The two guys began cackling wildly, walking off and leaving me alone with Martin. I figured I'd go out on a limb and try to make a friendly conversation with him.

"So I'm Frank, like I said earlier. Your name's Martin?"

His expression was adorable! He looked so surprised that I would try to make friends with him considering he was supposed to be 'beating my ass'.

"Yeah, I'm Martin. Look man, I'm sorry but-"

"Martin! Hurry up and beat that little fagboy senseless so we can go, I'm starving here!" Jason shouted from the end of the hallway. Martin clenched his fist and I swear I saw his lip quiver. His fist then connected with the left side of my ribs, making me double over in pain.

"I'm sorry, really I am," he said, tears looking as if they were about to spill over at any given moment.

"Then why...?"

I was still doubled over, but I managed to make eye contact with him, trying desperately to search those pretty eyes of his for an answer. He maintained his composure and blinked the tears away. No such luck. He quickly turned and walked away from me back towards his friends, who were hooting and hollering in congratulations to the seemingly perfect boy that left me hunched over in pain. Not to mention complete and utter confusion...

That beautiful boy with those beautiful eyes...

I saw something in those eyes after he hit me. Something that told me he wasn't anything like those other jerk off jock guys, that he wanted nothing to do with them. I was convinced that he was above them and just needed to find his way out. I was determined to do whatever I could to help him, I just had to figure out how....

I continued my way to the cafeteria, to see Mikey sitting at a table by himself.

"Hey Frankie!" he called out to me when he saw me, waving his hand around wildly.

I rolled my eyes and smiled, he was so spastic sometimes. But, that's why I loved him. We used to live next door to each other, and we've been best friends practically since we were born. Even when I moved away a few years back, it didn't phase our friendship one bit. We really were two of a kind...

"Hey Mikey," I said, smiling at him. I sat down across from him, flinching slightly as the pain in my side suddenly got the better of me.

"Dude what's wrong?"

He got up from his seat and rushed over to me, putting his arm around my shoulder as I groaned out in agony. Martin had hit me pretty hard, but I quickly shook the feeling off. I couldn't let this get to me. I needed to do something, I just needed... information. Yes, that's always a good place to start!

"What do you know about the guy with the spiky hair?" I asked, not bothering to inform him why my insides felt like they were on fire. He followed my gaze to a table a few rows over from us, then quickly turned back to me.

"Frank! Don't fucking stare!" Mikey cried out, getting defensive. "That's Martin Johnson. He's the quarterback of the football team, obviously."

"Quarterback, huh? Hmm..." I said, smoothing my fringe so it rested just perfectly over my right eye. This could be Interesting...

"He's amazing. Usually, they make you wait a whole year before they start you. But something happened to the quarterback last year so Martin took over for him, and he was phenomenal. He's been starting ever since. He's the reason that we won the state championship last year. They treat him like he's a god or something," Mikey continued, taking a bite of his banana. "Aren't you going to eat anything?"

"Oh yeah," I replied, taking a bag of Tropical Skittles out of my pocket. I popped a handful of those delicious little drops of Heaven in my mouth and continued my gaze on the 'star quarterback'.

"Is he gay?"

Mikey nearly spit out his food. "Is he... what? Where did you get that idea, Frank?!"

"I was just asking, geez," I muttered, shaking my head. I looked up at Martin again, and realized this time he was staring at me. Holy hell, he was staring at me!

"We better get to class, Mikey," I choked out, grabbing his arm and scampering out of the cafeteria. I suddenly had a plan, but it would have to wait until after school...

*

Mikey and I had gym class together, which miraculously was our last class of the day. I changed rather quickly from the ridiculous PE uniform back to my wonderful Misfits tee and extra tight skinny jeans that had been ripped six ways to Sunday. I knew Martin would probably be coming to practice here soon, so I made my way outside to the football field and stood somewhat hidden on the side of the bleachers.

"Frank, what the hell are you doing?" Mikey asked, discovering my hiding spot.

"Oh, nothing. I was just-"

"You were just spying on Martin. This is dangerous, Frankie. Leave now, if they find you they're going to make your life a living hell. So come on, come home with me," he said, gesturing for me to follow him.

"I just want him to see me, Mikey. That's all, then we can leave," I informed him, making him sigh.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you," Mikey muttered, ducking underneath the bleachers.

I went back to watching Martin, amazed at how talented he really was. Lord knows that I wasn't the biggest football fan in the world, but when I saw him pass that ball so beautifully and effortlessly, I could tell this was something he was born to do.

I watched him lift the football up, searching for someone to throw it to. He searched right and left, then turned in my direction. He saw me, and he froze. A guy in a different colored jersey came and tackled him, throwing him straight to the ground with a rather large amount of force.

"Come on, Mikey. We can go now," I said, practically sprinting away with my best friend.

I wonder if Martin looked back to see if I was still there. Whether he did or not, my plan to get into that pretty little head of his was working perfectly.