jessie
"5 minutes."

I glared at the supervisor. He wasn't our regular teacher. I put my head back down and glued my eyes to the test paper. The equation made sense but I kept getting something wrong... I tried again and again.

"Time," said the supervisor. A resounding clack of pencils hitting desks broke the silence, soon followed by a rustling as we handed our papers in. I felt pretty good about that exam. And there was only one more to go.

School was over soon and Michelle gave Laura, Kayla, and me a ride home. She asked over the blaring music, "How did your exams go?"

"It actually went okay. I studied with Pete Sunday," I replied.

Her eyes went wide and she turned down her music. Slipknot, I think. "Pete? Wentz?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah..."

"The emo one?"

"That's not nice, Mikey," I said, using her nickname, ironically the same as the Way brother's. "And look who's talking."

"Oh well. So why were you with him?"

"I heard he talks up girls for sex," Kayla remarked.

"We were preparing for finals. And he's really nice, Kayla."

Laura piped up from the back seat. "Oh my god, you like him!"

I rolled my eyes. "No I don't. We were studying. And the only thing remotely romantic he does is kiss me on the head, but he's always done that. It doesn't mean anything."

"Does he always want to be around you?" Laura asked.

"We study every week and sometimes he calls me, but that's it."

"Sounds like he likes you," Michelle said flatly.

"But she'd never go out with him, Mikey," said Kayla. "She's saving herself for that band guy."

"Gerard," I said. I don't know why I said his name like that, because the last I had heard from him, he treated us all like crap. And I didn't even like him that much.

Michelle looked at me, her eyebrows high and her mouth open in a goofy smile. "Damn, son."
I flushed red. "It's not like that, he's like eight years older than me."

"Didn't you say he was a dick?" Kayla asked.

"No. Well, yeah, but he was kind of nice the other day. I fell asleep on his lap and he put a blanket over me and all, but he took off my scarf."

Laura made some sort of breathy noise from behind me. "Did he--see it?"

"I don't think so. I hope not." If he did, fourteen years of hiding would go down the drain. Only five people knew: Frank, Aunt Linda, and my three best friends. Even now, thinking about it made me cringe.

We were silent, as I know my companions are aware of the pain regarding my childhood. Michelle glanced at me once or twice and slowly turned up the music. Normally, I would dance along, but it just sounded like screaming all the way home.

gerard
Sometimes people asked me how I drew--and that was the most appreciation I got. I'd tell them the same thing: I visualize something, and the pencils do the rest.

My mind was cloudy. It may have been the beer or it may have been the pressure. The pencils were really moving on their own. I mused a few sketches before ripping each of them out and starting over. Nothing satisfied my hunger for a decent drawing.

Eventually, I finished something I was relatively proud of and sat back, letting the pencils drop my wooden desk with a clack. Two people, a man and a woman. One in a suit and one in a wedding dress, respectively. Covered in red splotches. Covered in blood.

Mikey walked in my room where I was residing and flopped down on the bed.

"What?" I asked, not looking up from the disturbing sketch.

"What are you drawing?" Mikey wondered, disregarding me.

"I don't know," I admitted. "It just happened." My eyes looked the papers over again.

"By the looks of it, you were trying for it," he said, pointing to my trash can, now filled with crumpled balls of thick paper. "Mind if I see?"

"They're bad," I warned. He waved me off and picked up a few lost causes. His eyebrows raised at the first one, then furrowed at the second, and he frowned as he scanned the next two.

"Gerard, are you okay?" He held up a crinkled sketch. It was half of a face, and a knife sliding down it. The other three he had seen were smoothed on my desk by his slim fingers. He pointed at another. This depicted a human heart on the end of a sword. "Are you sure?"

I took the third and really looked at it this time. I don't remember drawing something so morbid. A man holding a girl with an open slice down the left side of her body. And the fourth was no better: a person with their twisted, their hands on their neck as if they were choking. "These are rather odd," I said softly.

"Gerard, are you sure you're mentally stable? These aren't odd, they're disturbing."

I ran my hands through my hair. "I'm exhausted, Mikes. I wasn't thinking about what I was drawing."

"Hey, what about this one?" he asked. The man and woman. "It's pretty good. Is she in a wedding dress?"

"Yeah." Mikey nodded, seemingly satisfied by the not-as-fucked up sketch.

"Well, who is it?" he asked. I gave him a perplexed look. It wasn't anyone, it was just... her.

"No one," I shrugged.

I must've sounded really defensive because Mikey smiled suggestively and nudged me in the ribs. "Do you have a little crush? Oh, is it that girl that works at Starbucks? She's pretty damn hot."

I rolled my eyes. "No, I don't have a crush."

Mikey grinned in that same annoying manner. "If you say so, Gerard..."

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped. "And wipe that smile off your face before I smack it off for you."

"Easy, tiger. I'm just messing with you. But when you decide to tell me out this girl, I give great advice." He shot a smug look in my direction. "I broke a few hearts in my high school career."

"Says the captain of the chess club," I sniggered. "We all know who the real heartthrob in the Way family is."

"For the last time, I was not in the chess club!" He pursed his lips in thought. "And what do you mean, the real heartthrob? Need I bring out the old school photos?"

"Dear god," I mumbled.

"I'll just save them for your next girlfriend. If you even get one." He walked out of my room, as if he had won the argument. Maybe I would let him believe he did. But that's not my style.

"Four eyes!" I called. I internally beat myself up for not having a better insult. It was all in good fun.

He spun on his heel. "What'd you say, jackass?" A playful smile crossed his face.

"You heard me, beanpole!"

"Ohh, you're skating on thin ice there," he warned, putting on his sarcastically tough façade.
"You sound like our grandmother."

"You insulting our grandmother?" He took a step closer.

"Keep up, dude, I'm insulting you." I was risking it, but I mouthed, chess club.

"That's it!" He tackled me, laughing. I ended belly-up on my mattress, trying to get loose, but he had me pinned.

I gained the strength and in one swift move, I freed myself from his death grip and put him in a headlock. I balled my hand into a fist and ruffled his hair.

"My hair!" he screeched.

"That's for messing with me, little bro!" I released him and he stumbled back, a sneer-grin on his face. He tried to fix his hair in vain. He pouted and stalked off out of my room, not before I smiled sweetly and flicked him off. Kind of like I did to Jessie.

Jessie...

I felt like shit for snapping at Frank the other day and mentioning her. He hadn't called me since. I wondered if I should see if they're okay, to see if he's not too mad. I ran downstairs and dialed his number on the landline. A woman's voice picked up. His mom.

"Hi, Ms. Iero, it's Gerard, is Frank there?" Silence. "Hello?" I asked.

"This is Jessie," the person said shortly.

I made an uncomfortable face she would never see. "Well, you're still Ms. Iero, right?"

More silence. Then, she said, "I guess so."

"Can I talk to Frank?" I requested.

"Why?" Her voice was higher now.

"Because I feel like shit and we need to talk."

There was a shuffling in the background. "Um, he's not here."

I was getting frustrated. "Jessie, I can hear him. Please hand the phone to your cousin," I said slowly, now more of a command.

"And please don't talk to me like I'm a child," she replied sharply.

"Give him the goddamn phone." All patience was lost.

More shuffling. A deep sigh. Frank's voice. "What?"

"Dude," I said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. I was kind of hungover."

"I'm worried you have a problem, Gerard," he whispered. He didn't mention my apology.

"I'm all good, man. So are we cool?"

Another pause--he was considering. "We're cool."

"Thanks," I said, letting go of my breath. "See you soon then?"

"Yeah, see you."

"Wait, and Jessie, too?"

I couldn't make out the muffled conversation behind the covered reciever. "And Jessie, too."
"Alright, bye," I breathed. He didn't say anything else, only hung up.

I headed back upstairs and resumed my position at my desk, looking over my art once again. Now that I had her in my mind, I could clearly see that, even in a sketch, the bloody woman and the teenage drummer bore a striking resemblance.

Notes

I wish I could have had brotherly love...

Another update this week ^.^ Comment what you think, perhaps, or maybe even vote? No pressure, but it'd be pretty frickin' sweet of you. c:

xoxo
gerweird