The Untouchables

Gerard knows himself well enough that at the ripe age of fifteen, he realizes that he is in no way “cool”. He knows that cool kids get invited to prom freshman year, they have rich parents, and they don’t spend their Friday nights writing character cards for Dungeons and Dragons. Gerard only meets one of these qualifications. Yes, his parents are rich, and from an early age he found kids desperate to be his friends. That’s when Gerard was eight and he was the only kid on the block with a trampoline and a slip and slide. But by the time he hit seventh grade, kids didn’t care so much about his cool toys, but more about what girls he liked. They lost their interest in his race car bed, but became fascinated in who everyone hung out with. When they found out Gerard didn’t like, well, any girls, and that he didn’t really hang out with anyone, they ditched him. Gerard only really had one real friend named Patrick, but he ended up moving away halfway through seventh grade. As a result, the rest of seventh and all of eighth grade were Hell. He wasn’t bullied; but he was ignored.
He remembers how he used to try to get in with kids in seventh grade. In conversations where he wasn’t welcome, he would butt in, adding whatever comment he found to fit. If kids were discussing the location of a party or even a get together, Gerard would ask where. When he showed up to Adam Payne’s house and all of the boys responded by locking him out of the house, he took the hint that he wasn’t wanted. Not only by them, but by anyone.
So by eighth grade he had given up on a social life. He remembers the guidance counselor actually assigning some poor boy to be his friend. Maybe the boy wasn’t so innocent, because he ended up giving Gerard a wedgie to impress some girl.
That was the last time Gerard put the slightest effort into getting along with anyone. A new girl (who had been trying to make a romantic advance on Gerard) had asked,
“Do these jeans make my ass look fat?”
Gerard was oblivious to her attraction, and had replied without looking, “Yes.”
She had flipped him off in a huff, but he had his nose buried in a novel and didn’t notice.
Tomorrow is the first day of freshman year, so of course Gerard is blogging, listening to music, and drawing. These simultaneous activities have served as his favorite pass time over the summer. It was the only thing that really filled this strange void he has had within himself that he’s been neglecting for years.
Gerard pries himself from his desk, dropping into bed. He rolls over and closes his eyes, falling asleep within minutes.
The next morning, Gerard is awoken by his younger brother, Mikey, jumping on top of him, shouting,
“GER-AAAAAAAAAAARD! It’s the first day of school, get up!!”
Gerard shoves him to the side, groaning, “Let me sleep a little longer.”
“You sleep any longer and I’ll be late!” Mikey protests.
“But how does that affect me?” Gerard moans sleepily.
Mikey snatches Gerard’s pillow out from underneath his older sibling’s head. He whaps Gerard on the back of the head with it, barking,
“Get… your… lazy… ass… up!”
“I’m up!” Gerard insists, pushing Mikey away. He swings his legs over the side of his bed, and watches his brother retreat downstairs before standing.
Gerard sulks over to his closet, wishing that summer break could last one day longer, if any. He pulls on his school uniform: a white dress shirt, red tie (for freshman), black blazer with the school emblem printed on the breast, and grey slacks with solid leather shoes. He inspects himself in the mirror, swiping a little bit of concealer over a pimple and fussing with his hair. He clomps down the steps, grabbing his packed book bag on his way out of his room.
Mikey’s sitting at the breakfast table scarfing down his breakfast. Gerard sits himself down, staring at Mikey absently.
“What?” Mikey demands, mouth full.
“Nothing,” Gerard assures.
Gerard drives to school, dropping Mikey off at the middle school on the way. Immediately upon setting foot onto school grounds, Mikey is swarmed with friends. Gerard sighs, and pulls out and off to the high school.
Gerard’s first impression of high school isn’t a good one. He cruises into the freshman/sophomore parking lot, and right off the bat he sees a huddle of kids exchanging a joint. He brushes it off as a few bad apples not necessarily ruining the whole bunch. However, when he approaches the front of the school, he already sees an incident of teasing.
A short, dark haired boy is having what Gerard can only assume to be his backpack tossed between what looks like three upperclassmen. Two of them are juniors; Gerard can tell by their blue ties, and another is a sophomore, as it indicated by their green tie. The bullied is wearing a red tie like Gerard’s, so he is a freshman as well. The boy darts from kid to kid, but every single time, by the time he reaches his beloved backpack, it is already being tossed to another teen. Gerard passes by, hiding his face so the older kids won’t notice him.
For a split second, Gerard considers helping the boy. He then figures that the kid must have done something to them, somehow deserved what he’s getting. Going into extensive explanations for everything is a great way to ignore whatever your heart’s saying and listen to your head. Gerard’s learnt this over the past couple of years.
Gerard dumps his items off into his locker, and luckily, it’s only five minutes until the bell rings, so he’s not left alone awaiting first period for too long. Not that he really minds being alone anymore, it’s just that other kids look at him strange and generally associates him with being a loser because of all his time spent by himself.
Gerard slouches against the wall, absently watching kids in their polished shoes and tucked in dress shirts discuss their summer vacation with the excitement and urgency as though it were the dawning of the space race.
The bell rings, and the kids are dispersed into different rooms. Gerard goes to his first class, which is Geometry, an advanced math class he really wish he wasn’t in.
When he arrives in the room, all of the kids in there seem to have already made themselves comfortable at a seat. Gerard sits down in the front row, and he can almost sense the smirk growing on the other kids’ faces. There’s about eleven of twenty empty chairs, four of which are in the back, and Gerard picked not only a front row seat, but front and center. He can hear the word,
“Freak,” coughed discreetly behind him.
The boy that Gerard had seen outside the school getting harassed walks in. His tie is loose, hair a rats nest, shoes untied, and worst of all, shirt untucked and collar askew.
The boy must not realize that this is extremely disrespectful to the strict school dress code, because he saunters in, oblivious, and seats himself to the left of Gerard.
Luckily for the boy, the teacher is a laid back one, who is completely aware of the fact that he’s a new student and likely hasn’t read clause VII of article X in the North View Private School Handbook. She simply informs,
“Frank, you’re supposed to tuck your shirt in and straighten out your clothes. Just keep everything neat.”
“Thanks,” Frank mumbles into his chest, his chin tucked to his neck as he looks down at his wardrobe, adjusting it.
Class is boring; they spend it talking about what will be expected in the classroom and what will not be tolerated. The boy, Frank, pokes Gerard in the ribs with the tip of his pencil eraser. Gerard glares over, but the smaller boy isn’t intimidated. He actually smiles, and hands Gerard a piece of folded notebook paper. Gerard shoots the boy a quizzical look, but the boy simply gestures at the paper, and then turns his attention back to the front of the room.
Gerard opens it slowly, and on the inside, he finds written,
“Hey, stranger.
My name’s Frank Iero. I like dogs, Batman, and horror movies. You seem like an interesting guy. You should hang out with me and my friend Ray sometime. Maybe after school today? Are you first or second wave lunch?”
Gerard nudges Frank, whispering,
“Are you fucking serious?”
Frank cocks his head, as if he doesn’t quite understand. But he nods, assuring softly, “It’s for you.”
Gerard raises an eyebrow, and reads the note once more. He glances over at Frank, who is gazing at Gerard expectantly. Gerard grins, crumples the paper in his hand, and lets it fall to the floor. Frank’s jaw drops, and he looks like he’s going to cry.
Gerard feels a twinge of guilt; that was awfully mean. He wonders if he should apologize to Frank, when the boy bursts into a muffled fit of giggles.
Gerard recoils in surprise; he really doesn’t see what’s so funny. But Frank clasps his tiny hands over his mouth, suppressing his high pitched laughter.
“What?” Gerard asks, voice low.
“You’re too funny,” Frank responds quietly. “But really, first or second wave?”
Gerard scoffs; this boy must really be clueless socially to be so blatantly turned down and have it fly over his head. He does something he didn’t expect or exactly want himself to do, answering, “First wave.”
“Me too!” Frank replies. “We’ll talk then.” He shoots his head back to the front of the room, still smiling.
Gerard shakes his head, still in disbelief.