Mikey's words echoed in my mind during World History, and my teacher had decided to wake me from my endless trance by swatting a slip of paper at my face.

"You dead, Mr. Way?"

I sneer. " I'm very much alive."

His nonchalant eyes widen immensely as he smirks. "You're a good student, I'll let it slide."

The teacher, Dr. Roberts, was a kind instructor. He appeared to be middle aged, no more than 60 years old, with dark grey hair neatly combed and gelled down. His height was more or less than six foot three, and his body was thin and bonelike. From afar, he looked like a stick figure. Personally, he was understanding and accepting of kids like me, unlike most of the teachers.

"How's your brother doing?" he asked.

"He's doing good," I answered, grinning. "Thanks for asking."

Dr. Roberts peered behind his shoulder a few times before speaking again.

"Gerard, I have seen your drawings on the back of every assignment you turn in...and I really enjoyed them."

"Thanks," I reply, sheepishly and quite surprised.

He turned to his desk and continued the lesson, and I take notes. I never knew why, but World History was the only class I never ditched. I remember the first day, and somebody had been picking on me the whole class period. The student was throwing things at me, basically threatening me because his dad was a military officer, and that he'd slit my throat. This led him punching me, me using self defense and us both getting in trouble. That day, Dr. Roberts said, "Gerard, go home." and to the other kid, "Jack, go to hell." So we've gained some kind of trust. He called it 'the brotherhood' but.....no way.

After class, Dr. Roberts calls my attention and asks me to stay after a bit. Why? No idea.

Hands behind his back, he smiled. " I'd like you to have something." He pulled out a small crimson notebook, my name carved in black stone. Dr. Roberts handed it to me kindly.

"Th-thank you."

"A future artist needs one of those," he chuckled. "Now go. You can't be late next period."

Notes

new chapter c: