The Untouchables

The fateful day of Frank’s return to school, constantly in the presence of his former tormentors, comes all too quickly. None of the boys are prepared for how those kids will react, and as a precaution, they try their hardest to text Frank bihourly to make sure that he’s okay. Frank admits at lunchtime,
“I feel like a fucking three year old.”
Gerard frowns, and Ray comforts,
“Look, it’s just for today, just to make sure that they don’t try anything. They haven’t, and they won’t. After today, it’s over.”
Except it wasn’t over. A story has to have conflict, remember? When Frank went to his locker after 6th period, he found that all of his text books had been taken, and in there lay but a single piece of paper. He snatched the sheet angrily, and read it, to see it had written on it in red ink,
“Fucking fight us like a man, not with your friend. Then you’ll get your books back.”
Frank shows the note to Gerard, who lets out a sharp exhale. “Well, fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck is right!” Frank agrees. “I’m fucking screwed; my math teacher hates me as it is, imagine what’ll happen when I show up for weeks with no book!”
“They want to fight you?” Gerard asks. “That’s not fair; it’s three against one.”
Frank shrugs. “I don’t have another option, really.”
“Well,” Gerard hesitates. “Can’t you just… tell on them?”
Frank raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one who said that it wouldn’t work in the first place.”
“Well yeah, but,” Gerard begins. “I really don’t want you to get hurt.”
“So…what’s the worst that can happen?” Frank reasons. Gerard scoffs and rolls his eyes, so Frank continues, “But really, let’s be realistic here. They beat the shit out of me once, and then they probably never bother me again and I get my things back?”
“The keyword in that reasoning is ‘probably’,” Gerard points out. “There’s no guarantee they’d leave you alone.”
“I’m asking Ray what he thinks,” Frank mumbles, texting his friend. Ray responds almost instantly, and Frank reads aloud, “‘Let’s protect you at all costs.’”
“So Ray’s up for the Frankie Protection Program?” Gerard replies.
Frank nods, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “Looks like it.”
“Three different ideas, and no compromise in sight. Aint that America,” Gerard jokes.
Frank giggles, and admits, “Actually, I’m kind of feeling Ray’s idea. Like, we can get the books back somehow. Or I can just go without them for a while; they’re probably bluffing. Five bucks says the books will be returned within two weeks if I don’t retaliate.”
Gerard sighs, agreeing, “I guess we can try it.”
For the next two weeks, Frank is not left alone. It’s lunch one day when Frank stands, telling,
“I have to pee.”
Gerard gets up and follows, explaining, “You know, bathrooms are a very bad place for you to be by yourself.”
Frank groans, insisting, “I won’t be able to go with you watching!”
“Then I won’t watch,” Gerard resolves.
Frank reaches the bathroom, and makes Gerard turn the other way as he uses the urinal. As Frank’s washing his hands, Gerard pushes past, mumbling,
“Fuck, now I’ve got to go.”
Frank peeks out of the corner of his eye, and while Gerard’s hands cover the goods, he can still see a patch of Gerard’s black boxers. Gerard puffs his cheeks out, and lets out a gasp once he’s done.
Gerard turns and begins to wash his hands.
Frank’s eyes are immediately drawn to Gerard’s crotch, and the boy can’t hide his laughter.
Gerard reddens, and demands, “You didn’t look, did you?”
Frank shakes his head and points out, “You have a flap of your boxers sticking out of your fly.”
Gerard goes scarlet and turns his back to Frank, frantically trying to pull his zipper down as Frank continues to giggle. Finally, that portion of the underwear is torn to shreds, but they’re back in Gerard’s pants, safe and sound. “Thanks.”
“It’s what friends are for,” Frank responds. He’s quiet for a moment, and asks, “Can you not breathe and piss at the same time?”
Gerard shrugs. “I can, probably. I just never have.”
Frank chuckles, “You’re so weird.”
This continues, until two weeks have passed and Frank’s books are still not returned. Frank returns to his locker (of course with Ray close behind) to see a new note, which reads,
‘Stop being such a fucking girl. We know you’re using your friends to stay safe, and we’ll take advantage of this.’
Frank shows the note to Gerard, who assures,
“Dude, they’re bluffing. What does that even mean, ‘we’ll take advantage of this?’”
Frank shrugs. “I haven’t the slightest clue. I’m just kind of nervous.”
“Don’t be,” Gerard tells. “It’ll be fine, trust me.”
Except things aren’t fine. When Frank goes home that night, his parents are waiting for him, parked right in front of the door.
“Frank Anthony Iero,” his dad snarls in a low, menacing tone. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Frank’s heart skips a beat, and his muscles clench up with fear. What has he done now? “About what?”
“Some boys called,” his mom adds. “Told us you’re gay?”
“I am deeply disappointed in you,” his dad barks. “Not only that, but I’m pissed. Pissed that my son is a faggot, when that’s the only thing I’ve raised you against.”
Frank bites back tears, and replies, “Well, you don’t know that! You can’t trust them!”
His dad produces one of Frank’s Playgirl magazines along with a bundle of his lingerie. “But I can trust this.”
Frank is speechless at first, but manages to stutter out, “Y-you’re being ridiculous!”
“Frank, you have two choices,” his mother begins. “You can burn these things with us and apologize, and then we’ll pretend it never happened.”
“Or,” his dad proceeds. “You can leave. You can go, Frank, and not come back. I either have a straight son or no son; it’s your choice.”
Tears rush down Frank’s face, and he pushes through his parents, bolting up to his room. He locks the door once inside, quickly packing a bag. He ties his sheets together as efficiently as he can and ties them to the headboard of his bed, shimmying down them successfully to the ground. He runs the entire way to Gerard’s house, and doesn’t look back once.

Notes

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