Knives and Pens

Getting used to the new school is actually not that hard. Things here are pretty much the same as my old school (which I expected); so that makes it a little easier, I guess. I still don’t have my friends here, though, which really sucks.

Every day I’m confronted with the fact again that I’m facing all of this alone. I don’t exactly have friends at this school yet, because I guess no one is about to go out of their way to make friends with the new emo kid. Everybody has their own little group of friends, and they’re all seemingly settled in quite comfortably. Thinking back to my own friends back at my old school, I can’t help but wonder whether we would have easily opened up to allow a new friend into our little circle. It’s with a tight pinch in my chest that I realise that CC wouldn’t have thought twice about opening his arms right up to someone who needed a friend, Ashley would’ve probably given the person a thorough once over before deeming the person worthy of our time and attention; Jake would probably have been indifferent, yet still welcoming enough, when it came to new additions to our little group. What really hits me hard, is that I might have turned out to be the one who had a little trouble being convinced to accept someone new. Maybe that’s why I’m not really making friends here yet at this new school. Maybe this is my punishment.

I allow myself to be bitter over these uncomfortable thoughts as I pass other students in tiny little clusters of lively friendly chatter in the hall, on my way to my locker. My mind is thus elsewhere occupied when someone suddenly collides with me.

“Aw, I’m so sorry, dude,” the guy says, and I snap back to the present in time to notice it’s a tiny punk kid, who also has a pierced lip and nose.

“Hey, no, don’t worry about it.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but suddenly another dude (a really big dude) shoves him out of the way, right into a locker. “Out of the way, little fag!” he sneers, not sparing the tiny punk kid another glance. Asshole.

“HEY!” the guy screams after him, “WHY DON’T YOU COME UP WITH SOME BETTER INSULTS, DICKWAD?! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND, AND I BET SHE’S BETTER THAN YOURS!”

He tries to shove his way past the traffic in the hall to presumably go pound on the guy (who has already gone).

“Hey, hey,” I say, grabbing the kid by his shoulder, trying to hold him back, “leave the douche alone, man. He’s not worth it.”

“I could take him, though,” the kid insists darkly. “But, yeah, I should probably let it go. I don’t know if what he has is contagious, anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” I grin, then clear my throat, suddenly remembering I’m the new kid. “Well, see ya.”

“Hey, no, wait,” he says.

I turn back around, eyeing him expectantly. “Yeah?”

“I’m Frank,” he says, holding out his hand for me to shake, wearing the biggest, brightest grin I swear I’ve ever seen – and holy shit! Is this kid for real?

“Andy,” I reply a little uncertainly, shaking his hand gingerly.

“You’re that new kid, right?” he goes on, completely unaware of the fact that I’m a little confused at this slightly awkward surprising turn of events. “I think we have Bio together. You sit at the table in front of Gee.”

I’m not really sure what to do with all of this, but it seems my own theory of having my ass kicked by karma for apparently having been the ‘asshole’ out of my former group of friends has just been proven incorrect, so I’m just going to go with it. I probably shouldn’t pass up people wanting to talk to the new kid, right?

“It could be,” I agree, but I’m not really sure, since I don’t really know people here yet, and I don’t know who the hell “Gee” or whatever is. It sounds like the guy – Frank – would know better than I do.

“Yeah, on your second day in that class, Emily accidentally bumped your notebook off the table. I remember, because I was talking to my girlfriend, Jamia that period. She’s two desks in front of you.”

Okay. Wow. It doesn’t seem like this Frank guy ever tires, or stops talking, and he certainly seems to notice and remember every tiny detail of everything. I think he has a little too much energy. He is right, though. I also remember that day some girl – Emily, apparently – bumped my notebook to the ground. I remember it for a different reason, though. I remember it, because I was afraid of someone seeing what I had written down, and calling me an emo freak. I’m also pretty sure that this ‘Jamia’ girl he’s talking about is the one that kind of looks like Snow White – if that’s the case, he was probably right when he told that jerk earlier that he has a better girlfriend, because she seems cool.

“Yeah-,” I start replying, not really knowing what exactly I plan on saying, but it doesn’t matter, because we’re interrupted by some blond dude (also with a lip ring).

“Yo, Iero!” is all he says, but Frank beams brightly.

“Bob, hey!” he says cheerily. “This is Andy. Andy, Bob’s our dog. He’s good people.”

“Hey,” Bob nods, which I return. “And the midget only says I’m good people, because he’s always trying to climb me.”

Somehow, I actually believe it.

“Oh, Bob, that’s not fair,” Frank whines. “I haven’t tried to climb you yet this week. Also, hey, Andy, you should have lunch with us. It’s me and Jamia, Bob, Ray, Gee, and sometimes Mikey and Alicia,” he continues, like he doesn’t even realise he’s talking so much. His energy is actually a little refreshing, though. “Oh, but sometimes they bring Pete, too.”

“Don’t worry, though,” Bob tells me seriously, “On the days they bring Pete, the rest of the normal ones usually end to relocate. Mikey and Alicia don’t mind, because they like him, and Jamia sticks around, because she loves this one, and is a total sweetheart, but I swear,” he says, pointing to Frank, “this one is tolerable, and completely tame and normal compared to Pete. And then when you put the two together…” he shudders, and I can only chuckle, because I think I have some vague idea.

“Bob’s just pissy, ‘cause he’s old and boring before his time,” Frank grins.

“Yeah, he says that about Ray and Gee too. Hey, Frankie?” he chuckles, throwing his arm around Frank’s shoulders, “why don’t we let the poor guy decide that for himself, huh?”

----

After meeting Frank and Bob, it was hard to picture exactly what their other friends would be like. Bob and Frank are two quite different characters, after all, so it’s kind of hard to determine whether one should expect more versions of Frank, or of Bob.

In reality, though, what I actually get, is a group of people who are all very different.

Ray is the one with the spectacular head of curly hair. He seems sweet and shy, and he’s actually having a look at some math problem that he can’t seem to figure out when we (Bob, Frank and I) make our appearance at their table at lunch.

Alicia is the one who ends up helping Ray with the problem, which leads to him frowning a bit. He doesn’t seem thrilled with the idea that a girl two grades below him (with an alarming amount of eye makeup, and an evil smirk) is able to point out a little detail that he missed in order to fix the problem.

Mikey is the one giving Alicia the little heart eyes after the small victory over Ray and her apparent remarkable wisdom, right before sticking his tongue down her throat.

“Don’t be gross, Mikes,” Gerard says, to which Mikey raises a bony middle finger in reply, not even breaking his very heated kiss with Alicia.

Now, Gerard. Gerard is a different character altogether. He’s all quiet and mysterious. Even those four words spoken to Mikey were done very reservedly, and his light skin displays the flush of his cheeks as he does so easily and proudly (which is ironic, since he seems to be quite shy). His eyes are a very captivating hazel, but they are the eyes of someone who is tired; of someone who has maybe been through too much. His lips quirk slightly to the side when he shyly smiles, and he has the tiniest teeth I think I’ve ever seen on anyone. His nose is pixie-like, and his hair is black as the night (much like my own) and quite unruly (again, like mine). He’s dressed in a black pair of jeans, with a matching black hoodie; and I actually find my eyes wandering in his direction a few times throughout the lunch period, before quickly darting back to whoever is talking.

“It just really sucks for Ray that a girl is besting him,” Frank announces gleefully.

Ray is firmly ignoring him, already getting into a new conversation with Bob.

“You know,” Jamia (who turned out to be exactly the Snow White girl I thought Frank spoke about earlier) whispers, “Alicia actually cheated. She checked the answer at the back of Ray’s book earlier, when he checked over something for English. It’s happened before.”

Jamia is really sweet, and I can’t help but feel a little excited and proud at the thought that she’s simply sharing this piece of information with me so I can be in the loop. Does this mean I’m being accepted into their little circle? I’m pretty glad I can’t see the sickeningly sweet smile I’m pretty sure is on my face at the adoring look Frank gives her, right before kissing her sweetly.

“Are you gonna make out now too?” I feel comfortable enough to ask the pair, and grin gleefully at the giggles it causes in them.

Maybe it won’t actually be so bad here. Maybe it’s my chance to give new things, and new people, a chance. It still sucks that my life had taken such a drastic turn, without my consent, but maybe I would actually be able to survive. If not, then I’d evidently at least be suffering along with a bunch of misfits, and I might not even be judged too much, since they all seem pretty accepting of one another.

Even as these thoughts cross my mind, of how these people all seem pretty okay, I can’t shake the thought that none of them are my friends from back home. None of them are…Ashley.

I mindlessly take out my phone, going to my old messages, landing on the one I got earlier today from Ashley. It contains only the little homemade abbreviation that doesn’t really help this whole situation much, along with two equally unhelpful kisses.

TOY xx

Thinking of me. Is it really all he can say; that he’s thinking of me?

Looking up, I notice Frank trying to steal some of Bob’s lunch, and Jamia trying to hold him back. The sight makes me smile, even though I’m thinking of Ashley too. Maybe I can understand how it’s maybe not easy for him to say more, and maybe I don’t even really need any more than that right now.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I reply to his text, which I couldn’t bring myself to do earlier, and put my phone away again.

I might as well try to be okay, right?