The Look Alike

*Gerard’s POV*

I was sitting next the winner of the contest, Marcy, still clutching the picture. She was talking animatedly with Frank about different types of flavors she’d like to see become skittles. I groaned; trust Frank to start a random conversation like that. The others were laughing and throwing in quips every now and then. I must’ve looked uncomfortable because Mikey looked at me with his eyebrows half furrowed. I shrugged; taking advantage of this break in the scintillating conversation I tapped Marcy’s shoulder.

“So, this guy, Zane, how long did it take for him to draw this?” I asked innocently.

“Oh, um…I paid him ten dollars yesterday to get it done by today after school,” Marcy answered, a flicker of annoyance flashed across her face.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” I murmured, fingering the picture absentmindedly.

“Yeah…I guess. I mean, it’s not like he had anything else to do,” Marcy said, picking a finger nail.

“What? Why?” I asked, folding the picture and putting it into my pocket.

“Well…he’s kind of the school reject. The guy used to weigh a lot and he isn’t very athletic, so he got picked on for the art thing,” Marcy said, carefully choosing her words.

“And?” I pressed, a slow pressure now building inside me.

“His dad left his mom, so it’s just Zane and her. I heard he’s really unstable, but that’s just a rumor,” Marcy said, faltering when she saw my angry eyes.

“So they just pick on him?” I said, boiling more and more.

“Well, yeah…nobody gives a shit about him,” Marcy whispered, scooting back a little.

“Why doesn’t any-,” I started to say, voice rising.

“Gerard, stop it,” Mikey’s voice cut in.

I made a noise in the back of my throat and slumped against the car’s leather seat. I shouldn’t have done that, but I always get bothered by those sorts of things. Zane’s in the same boat as I was when I was his age…hopefully he wasn’t abusing himself like I did. I really wanted to see Zane again, just to be sure and most off all to see more of his art, which kicked ass and then some.

A jabbing tap snapped me out of my grim thoughts, it was Mikey. He wore a sour look and the moment I got out of the car, he pulled me off to the side. Whoa now, aren’t I the older brother? Crap, he’s pissed.

“What the hell was that back there!?” Mikey hissed.

“That, Mikey, was a conversation,” I said smirking, making Mikey angrier.

“Stop it, Gerard! She won this contest; you don’t have a right to get at her like that!” Mikey spat.

“You know that sort of thing gets at me! I can’t stand hearing how that boy, who looks eerily like me, gets made fun of!” I said, clenching my jaw.

“I know that, Gerard! But nonetheless, she’s our GUEST, so be nicer to her!” Mikey growled, starting to pull me toward the recording building.

“God dammit, I’m not a mother fucking dog, Mikey!” I roared, not caring people could hear me.

“Come on, Gee. Let’s just spend time with her and you can rant all you want at me when we get home, okay?” Mikey pleaded, trying to tug me again.

“Here’s a thought, she doesn’t give a damn about anyone but herself. She’s probably one of the shits that make fun of an innocent teen, so you know what!?” I yelled, vaguely aware some people were watching.

“Wha-what?” Mikey stuttered, confused by my outburst.

“I’m out of here, you spend time with her. I’m walking HOME,” I shouted, pushing my way through the crowd and leaving my brother to stare—shocked, at my back.