A Case of Unknown Identity

Frank throws the backpack off and hops onto his computer, excitedly as always. This is always the best part of his day, and his days are usually pretty shitty but this makes him happy. It’s probably the only things that never fails to make him happy.

He clicks the mouse a few times and opens up the page which he has bookmarked, and quickly he types in the password, bringing up the home screen of “Closetedteens.org” which is not the catchiest of names. It’s a chat group sort of website for teens who are closeted... pretty self-explanatory.

When Frank had come out to his mother she hadn’t been at all upset with him or anything but she booked an appointment with a therapist to help him deal with the pressure that coming out would bring into his life. He had hated it. He hated it so much that he refused to go back after the second session. His mother decided anonymity was the best option then and the Therapist recommended the site, which Frank was extremely wary about but he gave it a go. It was popular among professionals because there was guidance with people who really knew their stuff, and you didn’t need to give out your name.

At first Frank had hated that as well. It was stupid. Just a bunch of whiny little teenagers complaining about balancing their sexuality with their privileged little lives. It was stupid, and pointless. But then he met Jersey-Watchman666, or at least that’s his username. They’d met because they both lived in New Jersey. They became friends when they realized that they liked the same music. He’s a great person too.

The only reason Frank ever goes on that site anymore is to talk to Watchman, which is what Frank calls him. Watchman calls him Pansy, on account of his username being That_Pansy_Misfit but Frank doesn’t mind. As long as he gets to talk to Watchman. He doesn’t even know Watchman’s name or how old he is or anything. That’s the glory of the anonymity. He can be friends with someone just like him, and never worry about being made fun of for having a dorky friend, or for being a ‘faggot’ because his bullies don’t even know he’s gay. They of course called him a fag anyway but Frank only ever came out to his mother and no one else.

Watchman is a dork though, biggest dork he could ever possibly imagine, but he’s so sweet. Frank always gets little tingles because he kind of flirts sometimes, and even though he’s sure Watchman doesn’t mean to, it’s so cute. Frank is sort of completely in love with Watchman, which is so cliché. How typical is it for him to have fallen for the guy whose name he doesn’t even know?

At the very least he’s glad that Watchman is his age. The site is special in several respects, one being that you have to have a code given out by recommendation from a therapist so that there are no perverts or anything, most likely. The odds are not high, at least, that Watchman is a sixty year old gigolo.

When Frank logs in he sees that Watchman is already online. He always is when Frank gets home. He probably gets out of school earlier than Frank, because almost without fail Frank sees that little alert in the corner of his screen saying his friend is online.

Jersey-Watchman666: Hey Pansssssaaaaay!

That_Pansy_Misfit: Whoa loo k who it is, never wouldhave guessed.

Jersey-Watchman666: What’s that sposed to mean? U saying Im onlin;e 2 much

That_Pansy_Misfit: wHAT!?!?1? u think I’d ever say anythin like that?

Jersey-Watchman666: awww don’t lie, u think i’m awesome. Cant say I blame ya

That_Pansy_Misfit: You got me. I worship u. Howd you guess?

Jersey-Watchman666: I’m just clarvoyant

That_Pansy_Misfit: that’s not how u spel clairvoyant you nimrod.

Jersey-Watchman666: not how I “spel” it you say?

That_Pansy_Misfit: Oh fuck off, iwas tryng to be an ass and you’re bieing a little jerk and sassed me back. U Sass my ass.

Jersey-Watchman666: that sounds so worng lol

That_Pansy_Misfit: ha woops. so how was hell... I meen school?

Jersey-Watchman666: gggggggggggggggaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Jersey-Watchman666: u feel?

That_Pansy_Misfit: I feel.

Jersey-Watchman666: how bout u?

That_Pansy_Misfit: same. Though a few more aaaaaaaaa’s.

Jersey-Watchman666: Have homework? I got a shitton.

That_Pansy_Misfit: me too. U think if I hide under my desk it will sopt excisting?

Jersey-Watchman666: u can try. Take me wit u tho.

That_Pansy_Misfit: alrigth come on, then

Frank rolls his eyes, smiling, and he takes the laptop off his desk and quickly climbs under it. He could easily not and say he did, but Watchman has a way of knowing things.

He climbs under the desk, and due to the fact that he’s a practically a midget at 5’4, he actually fits comfortably.

That_Pansy_Misfit: Ok, expirrement starts now. how long do istay here?

Jersey-Watchman666: atleast until th next winter Olympics, 4 valid results

That_Pansy_Misfit: *sigh* mmk

Jersey-Watchman666: lol, is it working has ur hw brust into flames or somthin?

That_Pansy_Misfit: dunno, maybe

Jersey-Watchman666: well in the meantime u migth wanna do it jsut in case

That_Pansy_Misfit: Ugh I thogt the whole piont was to runway from my repsonobilitities

Jersey-Watchman666: oomg look at what u just typed! priceless

Jersey-Watchman666: runway eh? U gonna own that catwalk?

That_Pansy_Misfit: ffffffffuuck thats, omg. I said tities, don’t tell my mother!

Jersey-Watchman666: secrets safe wif me bro. speaking od bros, mine just walked in I’s gotta go

That_Pansy_Misfit: awwwwww :-( I hate u.

That_Pansy_Misfit: and him.

That_Pansy_Misfit: Tell him i hate him.

Jersey-Watchman666: will do Pansy, ttfn!

That_Pansy_Misfit: u 2.

Frank frowns as he sees the little light go that signals Watchman’s online no longer. He turns and pulls himself out from under the desk, and strides over to his bed to delve into the riveting world of the coefficients of linear expansion. He constantly wonders if Watchman does actually like him back, the way Frank likes him. He’s always so excited to talk with Frank. They’ve been talking for almost eight months now without having met, or without knowing each other’s first names. It’s crazy! All Frank knows is that he’s got a brother, and he doesn’t know the brothers name.

“I’m a mess!” He mumbles as he flips through the book to the page he needs to work on. The wonderful thing about Frank's math class is that the teacher puts the answers on the board and lets students grade their own papers every morning then tell him their scores. Frank takes this as his opportunity to do literally nothing at all besides write a bunch of random numbers on the paper. What this means though it’s that he is always desperately out of practice when it comes to taking tests, so he actually has to study today.

The rest of the day passes in a blur as Frank crams his head full of pointless numbers that he really couldn’t care less about, and he almost falls asleep at his desk with his notebook, until he realizes how thoroughly uncomfortable that would be, and absently walks over to his bed and crashes.

He wakes up the next morning with a nasty case of bedhead so he has to take a prolonged shower to try and get some of the knots out, before he decides he honestly doesn’t care, and just settles with it. It looks a bit like sex hair, he thinks, when he’s checking his face in the mirror.

Oh well though, he’ll be late for school if he tries to tend to it anymore.

He won’t actually be late for school, because he’ll get there on time, but these junior boys, in the grade ahead of him, beat him up every day before class starts so that he’s late anyway.

There are three of them, but to tell you the truth he doesn’t actually know their names. He calls them Alvin, Simon and Theodore in his head, because why not? Alvin is the ring leader of course, Simon is the guy who pitches in and laughs and lastly there’s Theodore who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than with the other two. He kicks Frank a few times because he’s supposed to but only after his friends coax him into doing it. Some day’s Theodore doesn’t hit him at all. Frank likes to think he’s got a soul buried in there somewhere. He should probably learn their names.

Frank sets off for school. It’s not too far a walk from his house and the buses smell like Goldfish and Axe body spray anyway, so he doesn’t mind walking. The worst thing was one time when someone axe bombed his bus, this was right before he stopped riding it, and it was like hell, everyone reeked of the shit for like a day and a half. Why do people do stuff like that? He doesn’t know, he just hates it.

Frank walks swiftly as he nears the murky brown building and grudgingly walks through the doors at the front. The school smells almost as bad as the bus, but it’s generally body odor and burnt food, because the kitchen doesn’t know the difference between Celsius and Fahrenheit so they just burn everything. The last time Frank actually saw something edible that they prepared, was the one time when the stoves broke. That’s the reason why Frank brings his lunch.

He walks down the hall as other students are walking around him every which way until he sees his locker, and ducks under people’s elbows to get to it. There are a few advantages to being short, and one of them is definitely crowd sneaking.

He maneuvers himself through conversations and what not until he stands in front of his little locker. Abysmally small, more like it. The only plus to having lockers this small is that no one can be shoved inside of them. You couldn’t even get Frank inside one of these things so that’s how you know it’s small.

“Hey little twerp,” Alvin says.

“Hey guys, how are you,” Frank replies not turning to look at them.

A fist slams into his ear knocking him backward and he turns to look at them. There’s only two right now.

“Where’s the other guy?” Frank asks.

“Why do you care?”

“No reason, I just wasn’t aware you came in twos.”

“Listen up, twat-breath-“ Alvin starts, but Frank disappears easily into a crowd of people as they pass by so he doesn’t ever get to know what he was supposed to listen to. And what the hell kind of nickname is twat-breath? How do you breathe of twats?

He doesn’t care he just walks down the hall and into his math class, completely not ready for the end of trimester test.

It’s almost second tri, today is the last day, because it’s Friday which means soon he’ll have new electives. That means three different classes which should be exciting. Frank currently has gym, which will be wonderful to say goodbye to. Soon it’ll be Jazz Band, Fundamentals of Art, and Home Economics. He still has French though, blagh.

Frank’s taken French for a year and a half now and yet the only sentence he can actually say is ‘vivre longtemps et prospérer’ which means ‘live long and prosper’ because Frank is a gigantic nerd.

The day progresses as all days do which is essentially just a lot of boredom that is hard to survive without wanting to rip your ears off. After eight hours of hell though, it’s finally the weekend which is always better than the week because you don’t need to anything.

Frank’s weekend will consist of sitting in his room playing guitar and hopefully conversing with his enigmatic cyber friend.