I’m waiting for Gerard to get off the bus, standing on the sidewalk. As soon as he’s off, four of these kids are all over him, so much that I can’t even see him. I go over to help, wondering what the problem is. One of them shoves me away before I can tell, barking,
“This is none of your business, midget!”
I disappear and go through the boys, standing in the center of their circle around Gerard to see what’s going on. Two of the boys have Gerard’s arms pinned to his back, as he lays on the ground, squirming against them. He’s lying on his stomach, his shirt ridden up so that his blue Batman boxers are sticking out over the top of his jeans.
Another one of the kids sits on Gerard’s head, pushing his chin into the cement. The boy grabs Gerard’s underwear, pulling them up until the waistband is halfway up his back.
“Please stop!” Gerard whines, whimpering and thrashing as he tries to resist.
Meanwhile, one of the boys captures it on video. “Got it!” he informs.
The kids all laugh and stand, except for the one with his hands clenched around Gerard’s superhero undies.
“Beg for me to stop!” the boy demands, yanking Gerard’s underwear harder.
“Please stop it!” Gerard pleads.
The boy stands, finally releasing Gerard’s underwear, allowing the elastic to snap harshly back onto Gerard.
Once the boys are all gone, Gerard begins to cry. I appear, picking up his back off the ground and offering him my hand.
Gerard doesn’t take my hand, just sniffles, “Were you watching the entire time?”
I nod.
Gerard chuckles, taking my hand and allowing me to help him to his feet. “Well, then why didn’t you help me?”
“I didn’t know what they were doing to you,” I admit.
Gerard smirks. “You don’t know what a wedgie is?”
“Is that what that was?” I question.
Gerard laughs, answering, “Yeah. It hurts like Hell.”
“Sorry I didn’t do anything,” I apologize, hanging my head.
Gerard pats me on the back, responding, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“Yeah, but you were begging for them to stop and,” I insist. “I should’ve taken the hint that youd didn’t like it.”
Gerard takes my hand, embracing the coldness of mine against his warm palm.
When we reach his house, a short walk from the bus stop, we run into Mikey on our way upstairs, who asks Gerard,
“Have you been crying?”
Gerard shakes his head. “No, it must be allergies.”
Mikey nods as he passes. I ask Gerard,
“You have allergies?”
“Yeah, I’m allergic to cats,” Gerard explains. “It sucks; I love em, but I can’t even hold them without falling into a sneezing attack.”
“That sucks,” I agree. “I can’t imagine what it’d be like if I was allergic to dogs.”
Gerard grins. “You’re a dog person?”
“For sure,” I reply. “I’ve never had one; my parents wouldn’t let me, but my best friend had this huge Great Dane.”
There’s a moment of silence, and I question,
“Gerard? Do you…. Do you have any friends? Besides me?”
Gerard blushes, and stammers, “N-n-no, not really. Not h-here, anyways. I had f-f-friends at my old sc-school.”
I grab his hand, because he looks like he’s about to cry again. He pushes my hand away, standing and beginning, “That reminds me. I have an idea.”
I smile. “What’s that?”
“Well, this is a strong ‘what if’, but….” Gerard pauses for effect before adding, “What if you went to school with me?”
I sit, gaping, and not particularly in a good way.
“No, just think about it,” Gerard insists. “We could hang out all day every day, I’d have a friend besides Mikey, maybe you could….” Gerard scuffs the floor with his shoe, asking, “Do you think you might be able to help me out with bullies?”
“Well, we just saw how uselful I was in the wedgie situation,” I scoff.
“I know but, maybe you could learn how to help me out,” Gerard pleads. “You’re a fucking ghost, Frank. Couldn’t you do something to scare them off?”
“W-well, yeah, but….” I start.
“See? You could,” Gerard interjects.
“But see, the thing is that I don’t want them getting suspicious or anything,” I tell.
Gerard stis next to me, responding, “Frank, if you scare them as well as I think you can, I’m pretty positive that they wouldn’t dare tell anyone about it.”
“I….”
Gerard gives me the biggest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen anyone pull, his hazels radiant and the size of saucers. “Please help me, Frankie. There’s four of them. I couldn’t even take on one of them.”
I bite my lip, deciding, “Fine. I’ll help you.”
“Yes!” Gerard cheers, hugging me. “I’m so excited! For school supplies, you can borrow some of my extra ones I have from middle school. Frank! This will be so fun! We should give you a new last name, though. Let’s look some up! You’re Italian, right? I’ll Google Italian last names-”
“GERARD!” I interrupt. I smile at him, telling, “Sweetie, you’re rambling.”
Gerard reddens. “Sorry! I’m just really excited.”
I laugh, “I can tell.”
Gerard squeals, tackling me in a hug. “This will be so fun!”
“Gerard, but what if we aren’t in the same classes?” I realize
Gerard flaps his hand. “Don’t worry. We can still hang out in the morning and on the bus and stuff like that!”
The next morning, I appear to get ready in the morning with Gerard. He dresses himself in an Iron Maiden tee shirt and ripped jeans with combat boots, but I wear my red button down with the blazer and matching Converses.
“What’s your last name again?” Gerard quizzes.
“Violante,” I recite.
“Good,” Gerard praises. We head out onto the bus. At the bus stop, Gerard and I are standing, minding our own business. The four boys that gave Gerard the wedgie the other day show up, and one of them elbows his buddy, pointing at me.
“Hey!” one calls. He has light brown hair chopped above his ears. “Are you a new kid?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’m Frank.”
“I think that’s the midget that tried to protect Captain Fag over here the other day!” one with black curls shares, giving Gerard a shove.
“That… that wasn’t me,” I lie.
“Why are you dressed like a twink?” a redhead demands. His friends laugh.
I nudge Gerard, whispering, “What’s a twink?”
Gerard blushes, explaining, “They call me one too, so I looked it up. It’s a young or young looking gay man with little to no body hair.”
I go scarlet, I can feel it in my cheeks. I can already tell that today’s not going to be a good day. I really hope I don’t have P.E. with any of those kids, seeing as I have no chest hairs and hardly any armpit hair.
We get on the bus, which is okay, except that those kids sit about two seats behind us and throw water bottles and shit at us the entire ride. Gerard and I get off at the school, and I take it all in. Even the girls are taller than me, and the school looks fucking huge.
I turn on my heels, declaring, “I can’t do it!”
Gerard grabs me by the belt and drags me inside, demanding, “You are doing this, Frank. Come on, it’ll be okay.”
“I really don’t want to!” I cry, as he pulls me into the school. It’s going to be a long day.

Notes

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