Making The Grade

Frank wakes me up the next day early, like, 6:00 in the morning. He apologizes,
“Sorry, I know you don’t have to be there until 8:20, but I have to be there at 7:00. You can shower, if you want.”
I trudge to the shower, balling up my clothes on the way. I strip and step in, being greeted by a cool spray of water. It’s strange; to be in this place where Frank has been naked so many times. The mere thought of something as obvious and simple as Frank showering naked overwhelms me to the point that my breathing accelerates.
I get out, dressing quickly and going to the kitchen. Frank is sitting at the table reading yesterday’s paper, chunky reading glasses on and a mug of steaming coffee in one hand. He looks so grown up that it scares me.
I sit next to him, and he asks,
“Gerard, would you like some breakfast or coffee? Feel free to help yourself.”
I pour a big ass mug of coffee since my mom never lets me have it. She says that it’ll keep me up all night and I’m sleep deprived as it is. With that, I have some Fruity Pebbles, which has the puzzle on the back completed. Judging by the sloppy, all capitals handwriting, it was Frank.
We leave the house at 6:40. The crisp air greets us, and Frank wears a jacket, almost as if he’s not aware that the cold will be gone by 11:00.
“Aren’t you cold?” Frank questions. He looks at me skeptically, at my bare arms and thin t shirt.
“Kind of,” I reply.
Frank chuckles, “Well, then wear a sweatshirt.”
“What’s the point? It’s going to be warm the next time I’m outside,” I reason.
“Just because you won’t suffer later doesn’t mean you should pull yourself through unpleasantness now,” Frank retorts.
I stand there, pondering what he said. “Gerard?”
I turn, to see Frank already in the car, starting the engine. “Get the lead out, bud. Hop in.”
When I arrive at school, Frank goes to his room, offering, “You can hang out in my room if you want. Not many kids are here this early in the morning.”
“No that’s fine, thanks,” I reply.
I sit in the hall against my locker, reading when the boy from my first day, Tony, walks up, snatching my book. He tears the front cover and drops it to the floor, kicking it.
“That was my copy!” I bark.
“Then pick it up,” Tony orders.
I sigh as I give in, standing to retrieve the book, because no way am I crawling over to it. How degrading would that be? But as I head over subordinately and bend over to take the torn book, I realize that this act itself is embarrassing at best and derogatory at worst.
Tony seizes me and brings me into a headlock, which I desperately squirm to try to get out of. “Let me go!”
“I see Iero drove you to school today,” Tony snickers. “You fucking him, fag?”
“No!” I insist, still struggling to escape.
“Tell me the truth. Don’t worry; you’re amongst friends here, Way,” Tony lies. He grips the waistband to my black briefs, warning, “Tell me.”
“I’m just staying at his house,” I admit.
“Scandalous!” Tony teases. “Why?”
When I don’t answer, he jerks my underwear up. Because I’m wearing briefs, the material shoots directly up my ass.
“Why?” Tony repeats, pulling harder.
I plan on not telling, but eventually, I can’t take it anymore. “Because my dad beat me!”
Tony releases me abruptly. He scoops up my book and hands it to me without making any eye contact. He leaves, his shoes shuffling quietly down the hall as he fails to lift them off of the ground.
Tony Clarke never talked to me again.
At lunch, I ask Ray, “Do you think I can stay at your house for a while?”
Ray smirks, “What’d you do, piss your parents off?”
“Something like that,” I mumble.
Ray grins, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth. “How many nights?”
“At least thirty,” I answer truthfully.
Ray chokes on his mouthful, pounding his chest. Through clogged coughs, he wheezes, “You’re kidding, right?”
I shake my head. “I wish I was.”
“How come you need to stay so long?” Bob questions, momentarily glimpsing over his Game Boy.
“I’m kind of not welcome at home,” I confide.
It becomes dead quiet. Ray breaks the silence, asking,
“Well, where are you staying now?”
“With Frank,” I answer truthfully.
This rises a hoot and a slap on the back from Ray, and even Bob cracks a slight smile.
“It’s not like that!” I inform.
“What are you going to do?” Ray ponders.
Again, the silence is unbearable, and the tension so thick you could slice it with a knife. “I don’t know.”
Frank asks me to see him after class. Gee, I wonder what about. My stomach rolls as I walk up to his desk, anticipating the worst.
“So, did you find anywhere to stay?” Frank questions. He smiles despite the twinge of melancholy I see in his green eyes.
“No,” I confess. “I hate to be needy, but do you think I could stay another night?”
“You can stay as long as you have to,” Frank assures. “I promise, okay?”
“Alright,” I agree, unable to meet his eyes. God, the poor kid would do anything for me. I bow my head and turn to leave when my elbow is grabbed.
I turn to see Frank sprawled out over his desk, chest in a stack of papers, just so he can reach me. He leans back into his chair once he realizes he has my attention, and adds,
“Don’t feel guilty about this, Gerard. It’s not your fault.”
“Well, if I hadn’t dropped the gay bomb on my dad, he never would’ve done this,” I point out. “Also, I wasn’t exactly thrown bodily from the house and told to never return. When you think about it, it really is my faul-”
“I don’t care,” Frank interrupts. “All I care about is that you know you didn’t cause this. Any of it.”
Frank offers a grin, but he still has a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. I don’t know if it’s for me, for his ex-girlfriend whom I kindly resurfaced memories of, or for something totally different. All I know is that it looks like it’s tearing him to pieces.

Notes

Thanks so much for reading! Please comment, rate, and subscribe! This story has like five chapters left, tops!

My Tumblr: www.varsity-frank.tumblr.com