Gerard remembered his old school, Belleville High, the synonym for hell. But these doors he was staring at now weren’t Belleville High, they were Barringer High’s doors.
Yet he couldn’t help, but cringe at the sight of them. Hell.
Gerard walked through Bellville High’s doors. Or as he liked to call Bellville, Hellville, because that’s what it had been to him, hell.
He walked to his locker; his head hung low staring at the ground, while being thrown insult after insult on the way there.
Fag.
Cock-sucker.
Pansy.
Weirdo.
Freak.
Fatass
Loser.
Loser stung the worst. It was the only insult that left a bad taste in his mouth and a sick feling in his gut. Because he knew it was true. He knew he was a loser. He didn’t need to be told every waking hour.
No, because he got enough of it at home. If they only knew, if they only knew.
He heard whispers and suppressed giggling as he approached his locker.
He thought tiredly, What did they do this time.
He got his answer in a surprisingly cliché way.
Loser, was spray painted on his locker length-wise in big black letters.
The giggles turned to full blown laughter.
Because taped to his locker over the ‘O’ in loser was a picture.
A picture of his mother, written over her picture in red permanent marker was: Get over it. With a Newspaper clipping of the night of the car accident:

Mother of three dies in head on collision
Son narrowly escapes death

He stared blankly at the clipping for what seemed like hours. Images of the crash flashed in his head. He couldn’t move.
He heard someone whisper in his ear: It’s all your fault.
“They’re right”, a little voice in his head whispered,” You know they are.”
No. they’re wrong. Not my fault. Not my fault. It’s not my fault.no.no.no.no.no.no.no
She’s dead. Dead. She’s never coming back. She left you, remember? She’s gone, gone.
Get over it. Pansy, pansy, pansy.
Gerard dropped to the floor and curled his knees to his chest, he held his head in his hands.
“My fault, all my fault”, he recited over and over again.
He heard the bell ring and the shuffling of feet. No one cares about me.
Gerard picked himself off the floor and walked toward his first period class.
No one cares, he thought as he dragged his feet across the tile, nobody.
He never left his first period class. He stayed there with his head down full of destructive thoughts.
He laid there until 5th period, when his teacher finally decided he was definitely not okay.
Sissy was called. She drove him home in silence, she looked scared because Gerard wouldn’t talk. Not word.
Not a word before he tried to kill himself that night, with a short note of: I’m tired of being alive.


His thoughts were interrupted by a slap on the back from Frank who was looking at him with concern laden eyes.
“Hey”, Frank said softly,” How’re you holding up”.
I smiled and shrugged him off, “Fine”.
Frank looked at him with disbelieving eyes.
“I’m just a bit anxious is all”, Gerard offered the other boy a tight, tired smile and pushed open Barringer High’s doors.
He prayed it was better than Bellville. He didn’t think he could last another year of pure torture.
He felt a twinge of pain in his wrist, his body relaxed, succumbing to the familiarity of the feeling.
It’s all going to be fine, he told himself, Frank’s here. Frank’s here, that thought in itself seemed to calm him.
Weird.
He felt Franks’ hand on his shoulders, steering him in the direction of their lockers.
Gerard gave Frank a questioning glance, which Frank caught.
“Ah, well I figure we go to our lockers first. Then, we take the cafeteria by storm, and FEAST!!”
Gerard let out a giggle that, eventually, turned into a full on laugh aided by frank tickling his sides.
They stumbled to their lockers, wheezing from laughter.



As they piled their books in; laughter slowly dying down, Frank, who’s mind was still buzzed from previous shenanigans, came across a photograph.
His laughter stopped abruptly as a small smile, full of sentimentality, graced his features.
He glanced at Gerard noting the small sad smile on his tired face; that smile slowly faded away to a numb look full of what Frank knew were sad, torturous memories.
Frank reached over and poked Gerard’s numb face.
Gerard blinked out of his thoughts and focused on whatever poked him.
“None of that,” Frank said softly.
Gerard offered him a weal smile full of gratitude and continued his locker decorating attempts.