Flea Bite

Frank Iero has not always been mean spirited and sex driven. I'm not quite sure when he demeanor changed. I don't know when his morals changed. But they did, because as I sit here in front of the dim television that plays as background noise, I think of an incident that took place when we were fourteen years old.

Matt Schroder was hosting a late-night bonfire, and I begged my parents for days to let me attend. I was fourteen and rosy-cheeked and desperate for attention that didn't come from a relative. So when they agreed, I snook small bottles of flavored vodka and Four Loko into my purse and wore a floral romper and put my sticky, unwashed hair into two small buns. I was anxious and excited, the feelings bubbling in the pit of my stomach.

Matt Schroder had the nicest pool in the neighborhood -- probably in all of Belleville. It was inground and massive, the type that slowly gets deeper as you swim further in. The water was beautiful, a dingy blue that sometimes felt sticky against your skin because of the leaves and bugs that hadn't been swept out.

The bonfire had already started by the time I got there and there was an overwhelming smell of teenage hormones and cheap beer. Frank was there, talking to Suzy Charmlyn. She was wearing a crop top and black capris, her pretty red hair tied back messily. Frank looked wasted and handsome.

My only friend at the party was in the pool so I joined her, stripping from my romper and stepping into the water slowly. It nipped at my skin, lukewarm at the surface but chilly around my legs and feet. Marrisa, a chunky girl with soft blonde hair, smiles at me. "Rowan!"

Her teeth were so straight, I was jealous. I'm not sure why I was jealous, but I was. Marrisa and I swam around, staying in the section of the pool we could both comfortably swim in. But I was distracted, talking about the alcohol I snook in while watching Frank laugh and talk with random people.

I wasn't paying attention and slipped to the six foot side of the pool, drifting slowly at first, paddling my arms to stay afloat but my legs suddenly felt like cement blocks were attached to them, dragging me down.

As my head dipped down below the surface, I heard Marrisa yelling for help, trying to gain attention from one of the many wasted teenagers around. It felt like hours, though it was most likely barely more than two minutes, arms wrapped around me, yanking me to the surface and over to the section of the pool I could stand in.

I hacked up water, coughing and spitting while tears brimmed my eyes. Frank was holding me near the edge of the pool, asking a thousand questions a second, looking me over with his own glossy red eyes.

He looked so worried, so concerned, it touched me deeply. I leaned my forehead against his soaked t-shirt clad chest, sobbing, shaken up by nearly drowning.

Marrisa was apologizing, people were asking if I was okay, but all I could think about was how Frank saved me. And that was the moment I realized just how crazy and infatuated with Frank I was.