Dirty Doesn't Even Begin to Cover My Secrets

There are times I feel so lost, so lost even though I know exactly where I am. This is one of those times.

In the physical sense, no, I’m not lost. I’m in my bed, under the covers, curling up so tightly it’s a wonder I don’t disappear completely. I am in Los Angeles, California. I live in a tan house on Willow Street, near the little plaza where I sometimes go to stuff my face with fake cheese junk I’m so thankful they have at the local Pizza Hut.

But all at the same time, I’m not. Jack Antonio is in his bed, under the covers, sleeping in a fetal position. He is in Los Angeles, California. Jack lives in a tan house on Willow Street, near a little plaza where he sometimes goes to stuff his face like a goddamn pig at Pizza Hut.

I’m not Jack. I’m Frank Iero, I live in Belleville, New Jersey, on Day Street in a blue house with my mom and my dad, which is so close to the highway, the sounds of cars whizzing past is my daily lullaby. I go to Belleville High, with my best friend James Dewees, and we banter through the whole day of how much our school smells like shit while we sit on the bench next to the stream of sewage so carefully placed near the edge of the soccer field.

That also means I’m six feet under, rotting alongside James. It means I’m dead. Frank is nothing but a stone plaque stuck in the grass.

Who I am and who I want to be are two different things, as they usually are. The only difference from then and now is that I do not want to be who I am. The difference is that I am not who I am. Of course, I’m sure this doesn’t really make any sense to you, nor do you give a shit, so I guess I should just shut the fuck up.

“Frankie…?” A triangle-shaped piece of light tips into the darkness of my bedroom and a cautious hand reaches in and flicks the light switch. I have stooped so low as to not let out the usual groan of pain that comes with that blinding light. Curling my knees closer to my chest, I exhale audibly under the bedding so she knows I was awake. The mattress dips where she settles down. It was nice, even though our Witsec officer told us to never use our real names, Mom refused to call me Jack. I guess that’s what kept a bit grounded these tough weeks. Yes, it’s only been fucking weeks. Don’t even remind me.

“Oh Frank,” there’s a trembling hand that slowly runs down my back, working up to pleasant numbing circles, “I’m so sorry this happened, honey. You know we would do anything to change this, but we can’t change the past.”

I can’t help but sigh when she pulls my head into her lap, in face still hidden in the blanket. It reminds me when I was little, when all the bad things would melt away instantly as she rubbed my back and hair until I felt absolutely nothing. My mom was the best that way, even as you would, say, get about five tattoos in the span of two months, she would nod her head, and tell me to get ready for dinner. That was her thing. She would never punish you if you told her the truth.

“It’s time for school Frank.” She gave my hair one last stroke before pulling the sheet off of me. That was her thing too, she was a hard ass. Then she strolled out the door, “Don’t even think about crawling back in there.”

Well. Time to put on a happy face and start my shitty life.

As I’m walking into school, I notice the campus is spotted with a few splashes of white on every flat surface. Curious, I near one of them, and read the fine print.

First, I look at the portrait. It’s one of those that the elementary schools take, with the purple slushy backdrop and the date in the bottom right hand corner. The girl in the photo is small, around nine or ten. She’s missing a lower tooth and her reddish hair is tied in little pigtails. She has one of those smiles, the ones that photographers work hard for to catch, because they only show up when no one is looking. Her hands are folded in the lap of her pink skirt, legs crossed and white t-shirt wrinkled while doing so.

Next, I feel a blue clang in my chest as the bolded words take effect. Have you seen this girl? I shake my head, trying to fend off that clench in my body, the one that wants to find her. I reread it again. Her name is Hayley, and she was last seen two weeks ago, near the park down the street. I wanted to help. I’ve always had that weird desire to help people, to save them. It usually stays under reps, but in times like these, it feels like it’s so strong I have to help, even in the most diminutive way.

The tardy bell rings and snaps me back into reality.

Managing to sneak into the classroom while Ms. Hunt has her back turned, I slip in my seat and try my best to look as innocent as possible. Due to my lateness, the only available seat is in the dead set middle. I hold back a sigh, and push my backpack under the seat.

I count how ten minutes has passed without me being called a fag a win. Relaxing a bit, I attempt to listen in on the teacher’s lecture for a change. Fingers walk up my back and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. This guy… is seriously freaky. I chance a glance behind me and catch that guy’s mouth open in mid-moan. Blush rising in my cheeks; I set myself forward, promising to not twist around again.

It’s a long period of ignoring the daggers in the back of my head and checking the clock in five minute intervals. There’s of nuuugh’s and soft oh’s that succeed at embarrassing the hell outta me. My head is on a swivel among my peers, eyes searching for the smallest hint that someone notices this – this.

Fuck, I double around one last time before finalizing it, no one’s noticing this bullshit.

I’m the first to be zooming out once that much sought after bell rings for sweet freedom. Of course, after charging out of the door, I have to slam straight into an unsuspecting passerby. Face to… boobs.

“Oh my god…” I mumble into the soft flesh, pulling away as fast as I can, “I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to…” I get cut off by the backhand that connects to the left side of my face and the swift sweep of chucks that ultimately land me headfirst to the ground. Not only am I injured, there was a huge blow to my ego and self-esteem.

“Motherfucking pervert. Go find a fifty cent whore if you’re this desperate as to pull some smooth trick like that.” A not too hard but strong enough kick to jar my brains a bit was driven to the side of my head, I couldn’t help but look up and mouth a silent ’why, God, why?’ as I hoisted myself back up and touched my stinging cheek. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was an angry little hand print gracing my flesh right about now, that chick fucking went all out on me.

“Jack? Shit, what happened?” There’s Ray, who’s rushing to my side while our peer group continues to walk over and around my seat on the hallway floor, if not, sneering I my general direction. Ray lift me to my feet with a pull of a hand and looks at me with a suck deep worry etched on his face it almost makes me want to laugh, but the red sting in my cheek tells not to. “Was it Matt? Are you okay?”

“Nah… Pissed off someone…” I didn’t wanna go into details. There was too much of a likeliness of Ray’s mouth opening to form the words, ’You totally meant to do that, right?’

But that’s just the thing. I didn’t.

I, Fran – I mean. Jack Antonio likes boys. Only boys.

In case you’ve missed all the teenage gay angst that has been woven here, I would like to make that clear. Also, you are a bit dim, honey.

There are some things for clarification though. No, I will not go shopping with you. I may be gay, but I am still a guy, for fuck’s sake. It kinda irritates me about girl and their gay guy friends; they expect us to be so… flaming. Flamboyant? Something along those lines. Okay, so there are guys like that. I’m just – not. It’s not weird at all, I think, boys are boys, right?

This small detail about me does not mean I find women disgusting. Untrue to popular belief, I don’t find anything wrong with girls. They’re beautiful, in mind and in a bodily sense. They are just not for me. I’ve never really found an interest, I suppose. It’s one of those things where you just don’t instead of do. At times where I’m nursing a bloody nose and a possible concussion, I find my mind wondering if it was because I never made an effort. Not to say I’m ashamed of my sexuality. I think. Maybe. (sigh.) So… I’m sorta kind of in the closet? I’ve never admit it, out loud to anyone else but my own head. Of course, I’ve never admitted to not being homosexual, so that explains a lot of the purplish-black spots decorating my body at the moment.

I want to feel like myself. Back to the beginning, I need to be myself. The walls are closing in, smaller and tighter, and I’m trapped. I keep screaming, screaming so loud it shakes me right to my bones. Still, no one really listens. No one really cares. I’m just that kid in the corner who keeps shivering – quaking in small intervals when inside there is such a confusion of what are you? who are you? you don’t know? you don’t know?! such a swarm of conflicting ideas that a broken soul is crying, crying out for someone to help him, even though he knows no one will.

I want to laugh because it’s such irony. It’s such a big fucking lie. No, I’m that punky, short guy who keeps moving – tapping his foot, fidgeting with his hands, grinning so much it doesn’t seem to fit his face, I’m that guy. I’m Jack Antionio. The newish kid. I’m him. I’m him.

“I said, who did you piss off?” He was smirking a bit though on his clown ass face it looked more like an oh hi little boy, you like candy? face. I couldn’t help but grab him by his ankle and pull him down with a hard tug. He squeaked, and fell in a heap, missing the extra filled garbage can by mere inches. Damnit.

“Fuck you, I am a delinquent, jus’ so you know, clown ass mofo.” I give him a gentle kick to the backside, dusting off mine for the second day on the row afterwards. He glares, but it just fails on Ray’s friendly expression. I giggle. Actually fucking giggle. Whatever, I am gay, right? Right.

“Jackie….” He groans, and I have to punch a little in his shoulder for setting me up with JFK, “Do we have to go to class? It’s like; one period to lunch can’t we wait it out? Jay wants to me to creep on her new prey.” I roll my eyes. For the past few weeks I’ve been at St. Mary’s Ray keeps going on about this girl who is supposedly his other best friend before me. I’ve never met her. And it’s been… oh, I don’t know, three weeks? Where is this mythical “Jamia”? His afro must be sucking all the nutrients from his brain in order to retain its epic proportions.

“We have more new kids? What is up?” I shake my head, and the word “kids” brings me back to Hayley. Without thinking I speak up, “Have you seen all the posters around the school of that little girl?” Ray looks at me from the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah. Bad shit always happens to the innocent and good, doesn’t it?” I nod. He reaches into his back pocket to grab a smoke once we get off campus into the parking lot. I snatch away the cigarette from his lips, taking three long drags before passing it back.

“Fucking mooch.” He grumbled around the coffin nail, and I smiled as he choked when I shoved him while he was breathing in.

“You love it.” He was still coughing, so I went on a victory dance around his hacking form, wiggling with my arms raised above my head. Finally, when the dude’s lungs kept trying to jump out of his chest cavity, I helped him out with a few solid thumps to his back. He gathered himself up – and promptly pushed me on my back. I was rolling around on the ground, giggling to my heart’s content just to piss him off.

“Guys?” We looked up to see Bob Bryar’s towering form, and a mass of students leaving the building, “Lunch? Now?”

Bob had a habit of talking with one word each sentence; the only time exception to this was probably the death threat to anyone who wanted to put him in a blazer. Which he wasn’t wearing right now, only that flimsy white dress shirt in the 55 degree (fahrenheit) weather with five or ten knot winds. Yup, still had some of my respect. We shall up the props to a lot of my respect.

“Okay, Jam’s probably waiting.” I give a knowing grin to Toro, opening up my mouth to say something, “No, Jack, she and her other best friend haven’t been here because they like to leave this hell hole for at least an hour to maintain a little bit of sanity.”

“So if that’s for their sanity, why not today?” I say most likely weirding the body attached to massive afro with the normalicity of my question. My brain yells at me for using words that aren’t even words. Well, it was either this or ‘are they hot?’ and I guess saying that wouldn’t have been quite progressive to my new thing about my sexuality.

“That’s the thing. They’re probably fuckin’ insane right now.”

“Shit.” Bob was looking worried.

For the whole morning, these girls had been following Bob like a mob. I couldn’t really blame them; Bob has that mysterious/quiet/polite/strong/cool air about him. It’s been freaking him the shit out and I explain to him while motioning to my clothing. Goddamn Uniforms. I don’t know, girls have a weird fetish for nicely dressed guys, I guess?

“Oh don’t worry, Bobert. Jam isn’t into people like us.” I looked at Ray, confusion written all over my stupid face.

“Huh?”

“She’s a lesbian.” Oh. Nice. Bob claps his hands together before fist pumping. I shouldn’t be too shocked by it, but up until now I always thought I was the only homosexual person in this damned Catholic school. This new info, that maybe there are others, it gets me hopeful. Maybe there’s hope that the world hasn’t gone to shit.

“Jack, are you okay? You’ve been getting this blank look on your face these past few days.” I come to, shaking my head and covering it up by ducking my head and chuckling, inattentively.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

It’s always nothing.

Notes

Going to post the rest of the chapters here, and hopefully I'll get something out by...the end of the month? I'll be honest here, I've separated myself a lot from bandom, especially since the breakup - not to say I'm not still liking it, no, the ideas and thoughts are there, just not necessarily translating into something you guys can have... D: I'm gonna set some goals? But I'm not promising anything, I started this thing nearly two years ago and the fact that I'm not even close is insane. What is also insane is how embarrassing I was, holy shit, how did you guys get past the summary?? Oh well. It's cool though.

Uh, 1/4 updates? Let's go, young ones.

-S