Logan’s P.O.V. (One of Frank’s bullies)
At P.E. Frank again goes into a bathroom stall rather than changing outside like the rest of us.
I nudge Joey, nodding towards the stall he went into.
“Get up on the sink,” Joey instructs, giving me a boost.
I stand on the sink, now able to see Frank in the stlal. He’s taking off his blazer and undoing his tie. I take my phone out of my pocket with shaking hands and hover it over him. I take the first photo, and it comes out all blurry. I’m just so worried we’ll get caught; Frank could decide to look up at any given moment and see me. I screw my eyes shut and snap away. When I open them, Frank is tying his shoes, fully dressed. I leap off of the sink, grabbing Joey’s arm and running out.
Joey swipes my phone and begins looking through the pictures. He guffaws, “Oh my God! The faggot’s wearing girls’ underwear!” I look at the photo, and sure enough, Frank is wearing glittery Finding Nemo briefs. “This is too good. We have to pull his pants down today.”
“Wh-wait a minute. G-g-go back,” I stammer. I snatch the phone to examine the picture closer. In the photo, you can see large leathery…. Wings… attatched to Frank’s back.
“Are… are those wings?” I ask.
Joey stares, and then gives a mirthless chuckle. “L-Logan don’t be stupid.”
I stare at the picture some more. Surely it’s just a weird glitch. I flick to the next picture and almost scream. In it, Frank is looking directly up at the camera. But it isn’t really Frank. His eyes are glowing an eerie golden hue, and his teeth are to a point. He’s growling at the camera, and again, are those big fucking wings.
Frank’s P.O.V.
I’m walking to lunch when Logan grabs me by the tie and shoves my back against a locker.
“Hey, freak,” he spits.
“Leave m-me alone!” I stutter.
Logan pulls his phone out of his pocket and dangles it in front of my face. “I’ve got something for oou.”
He goes to his pictures and pulls up one of me in my underwear.
I redden, and reach for the phone, demanding, “Hey! Give me that!”
“They’ve already been mass sent, midget,” Joey informs.
Logan flicks the tip of my nose. “Listen, you bitch! You see this picture?”
“Yeah I see it,” I grumble.
Logan points to… shit… my wings in the photo. He glares at me. “What the fuck are those, Iero?”
“Um… camera glitch?” I lie.
“I have four pictures of you with fucking bat wings. What does that tell me?” Logan asks.
“You should get that camera checked out,” I mutter.
Logan slams my back against the locker harshly. “Stop lying!” He’s quiet for a moment, then utters, “Did you kill Kyle Rosen?”
My heart skips a beat at the palpably true accusation. “Don’t be stupid! How could I kill him when he clearly kicked my ass?”
“Don’t lie, you little shit!” Logan snaps. He punches me in the gut and I double over in pain. “Take off your shirt.”
“What?” I wheeze, trying to regain the air knocked out of me. “No!”
“Take off your shirt!” Logan orders.
“I think you’re overreacting,” Joey advises.
Logan grabs the tail of my shirt, but before he can pull it over my head, I spring upwards. I growl lowly and then bite his arm, sending blood spurting into the air. I push past him, sprinting for the lunch room. His injured shrieks echo in the empty halls as I reach the cafeteria.
On my way down, I run smack dab into the chest of Gerard. Since he’s fucking skin and bones, it hurts like a motherbitch, and almost brings me back onto my ass.
“Frankie… are you okay?” Gerard asks. “You look… scared.”
“G-Gerard… I wanna go home,” I sob.
Gerard hugs me, stroking my hair. “Hey, you can do this,” he coaxes. He runs a hand down my face, ridding it of its tears. “They day’s almost over, Frankie. It’ll be alright, okay?”
I begin to hyperventilate, so Gerard rubs my back until I calm down.
“Hang in there,” Gerard encourages. He kisses the top of my head. “Everything will be okay.”
Gerard’s P.O.V.
In the car ride home, I ask, “So Frank, what was wrong?”
Billie looks expectantly at Frank through the car’s mirror.f
“I… uh… di-did you get a text?” Frank questions.
I shake my head. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Some boys… they took pictures of me changing,” Frank murmurs.
I shoot Frank a did-they-see-your-wings? look, and Frank nods.
“That’s ridiculous!” Billie exclaims. “Frank, I’m sorry, but you have got to stand up for yourself!”
“I did!” Frank cries.
Billie softens. “Don’t cry, Frankie.” He gazes out at the road and adds, “I hate to see you like this, that’s all.”
Frank nods, and wipes his tears off of his cheeks.
When we get home, I ask Billie, “Can I talk to Tre?”
Billie looks at me quizzically. “Of course you can. What about?”
“It’s um… kind of private,” I lie.
“Hey, is it about sex?” Billie inquires. “Because I can totally help you on that. Wait, are you top or bottom in your relationship with Frank?”
I stare at Billie in horror, declaring, “Just let me talk to Tre alone.”
Billie shrugs and opens the door to his apartment for me.
“I guess I’ll… go hang out with Frank,” he mutters.
“You go do that,” I agree.
Tre’s sitting on the couch, watching a horror movie. He sees me, and greets,
“Gerard! How’s it going, kiddo?”
I sit down and reply, “Pretty well. How about you?”
“I’m fantastic,” Tre replies.
“Tre…” I lower my voice. “Can I talk to you about something serious?”
Tre’s eyebrows furrow with concern, but he responds, “Sure. You can talk to me about anything.”
“Does… does the name Kyle Rosen ring a bell?” I question.
“Oh shit,” Tre curses.
“What?” I ask.
“Well, I know beat up poor Frank, so I figured you’d make the connection between Kyle and Billie,” Tre replies.
“What’d he do to Billie?” I ask.
Tre begins to tear up, and he wipes his eyes, laughing humorlessly, “Shit, sorry. Okay, so about two years ago, Billie and I were trying to adopt. Billie was the one who really wanted a child, and I was just supporting my husband’s decision. Now, that little Kyle Rosen was a sixth grader at the time, and he was living across the hall from us. And he always used to spray paint homophobic slurs on our door and throw eggs at us and water balloons and all that shit.”
“That’s horrible!” I exclaim.
Tre shrugs. “Eh, kids will be kids. Anyways, so he found out we were trying to adopt. We were on a waiting list, actually, and we were told we’d have a kid within three years. We were so excited, and Billie was the happiest I’ve ever seen him.” Tre begins crying again, so I grip his knee in an effort to comfort him. “And… Kyle made up this lie… that Billie sexually abused him.”
My mouth drops open.
“He said that Billie cornered him in the hall, stripped him down and stroked his bare crotch before he managed to run away. Now, this goes to court. And guess who’s found guilty?”
“Billie,” I mumble, now crying myself.
“Right. So he’s a registered sex offender. And who would give a registered sex offender a child?” Tre weeps. He rubs his eyes and chokes out, “No one.”
I rub his back, and he looks up at me. He shakes his head, saying,
“Gerard, don’t cry sweetheart. It’s not your fault.”
I nod, and wipe my face. “Thanks for telling me the truth.”
“Sure, no problem,” Tre puffs, gasping for air from sobbing. “Don’t tell Billie you know, okay?”
I nod, and leave, reporting the entire thing back to Frank that night. Frank cries as well, and whispers,
“I can’t believe he’d do that to them.” His wings flutter in little beats. They do that when he’s upset.
“I know. It sucks, they’re so nice… they don’t deserve anything bad to happen to them,” I agree.
“And something that horrible…” Frank trails off. His eyes suddenly widen, and he worries, “Shit! Do you reckon that Billie will be a suspect now that Kyle’s…” Frank uses air quotes around the next phrase. “Missing?”
“I haven’t thought of that!” I exclaim. “Wait, calm down. They have nothing to hide.”
Frank nods, and continues to weep. “Why does life suck so bad?”
“It’s alright, Frankie,” I coax, grabbing his hand. I reach a hand over to caress one of his wings, the leathery material smooth against my fingertips. “It’ll be better tomorrow, I promise.”
Frank sniffles, and his wings finally stop fluttering with agitation and calm down, falling against the bed.

Notes

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