Prom Fever

School has gotten quite bland lately. The only thing keeping me going there (besides the government regulation of education) is Gerard. He is literally the best part of my day, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s a little sad.
Gerard is only in four of my classes throughout the school day, which is relatively a lot, but still not enough for me. We spend the first two hours of the day together in Chemistry and then in College Algebra, and then I see him again fifth period for vocal, and once more seventh period for Gifted and Talented. It’s during these class periods that I give it my all, because is this damn school, I only really care about what Gerard thinks about me. Not the principal, not the girl next door, and not anyone else.
We’re sitting in Chemistry that day, and it’s the last few minutes of the class, so the teacher let us talk. Within a minute of the allowed speaking time Gerard announced, “So Jamia got asked to prom.”
Jamia is Gerard’s friend, and I’m going to have to emphasize that she’s Gerard’s friend, not mine. I’ve never met her, but based off of some of Gerard’s stories about her, I’m not really sure if I ever want to.
“Huh,” I mutter.
“Yeah, it’s crazy,” Gerard mumbles. “Kids are getting asked left and right and I’m just here spilling cereal on myself and shit.”
It’s then that my heart skips some beats. I wish I had the balls to ask him right now, but unfortunately, all I can muster is, “Well, you never know. Maybe someone will ask you this week.”
Gerard rolls his eyes, replying, “Pfft, doubt it.”
“Don’t be so bitter,” I laugh. I nudge his shoulder, adding, “You never know.”
Gerard raises an eyebrow. “Prom is two weeks away. I’m no idiot, Frank.”
I’m about to object when the bell rings, and Gerard stands up so fast that I can’t keep up. “Gerard, wait!”
I gather my things quickly and jog after him, telling, “Maybe they’re shy.”
Gerard shrugs, answering, “That’s a good point.” He winces, adding, “But even if they were shy, they should be able to get over it if they really want to go that bad.”
Frank keeps that advice in his head, and at that moment he really wants to say it, just one word at the least. Prom? That’s all he needs.
But that one syllable catches in his throat, and he’s left totally speechless as he follows Gerard to their next class.
“Besides, I don’t want to go,” Gerard mumbles. “I don’t like anyone; I wouldn’t have fun there.”
“I guess that’s true,” I agree. I feel a little better knowing that he doesn’t have an by ChampionDeals">INTEREST for two reasons. One of the reasons is knowing that his feelings aren’t hurt by not being asked, and the other reason is the assurance that I can put off asking him out.
The math class ends up being a study hall, which basically turns into several cliques branching off and discussing whatever. Gerard and I spend the majority of the period playing Paper Wars.
Paper Wars is a game Gerard and I made up some four years ago, and he often jokes about getting it patented. All you need to play is a sheet of paper and some writing utensils. One person starts the game by drawing a non-threatening animal or object. Then, the other person must draw something that can beat that previous drawing. The next person must draw something to defeat that, and the game just carries on and on until someone gives in. It can last anywhere from two minutes to two hours, and it’s quite the waste of time. Gerard and I waste time a lot; it’s the only way to get back at our parents without actually risking our futures.
Gerard invites me to his house after school as usual; we have youth group tonight, which means that I have to stay in town until seven p.m. to attend. Being invited to Gerard’s house means that I get to ride home with him, and this means that Gerard, his little brother Mikey, and I all pile into Gerard’s tiny piece of shit car and head off to his house.
Things are going as typical as ever; we’re not there for two minutes when Mikey goes off to his room to do his own thing, leaving us in the living room.
I’m just chilling, his dog sitting in my lap. Gerard’s dog is a Chihuahua named Scout, and Gerard frequently refers to it as “the damned thing”. It poops in the house, runs off, and snips at Gerard when he tries to pick it up. In fact, Scout fucking hates Gerard. The only person it really likes is me. It’s not because I’m good with dogs either; Toro came over once and Scout nearly took his fucking hand off. Can you believe that? We’re talking about Ray, the kid who hunts with multiple dogs all the time.
“Frank, I want to sleep,” Gerard groans.
I scratch behind Scout’s ear, getting his leg going. “Then sleep. I’ll come with you.”
Gerard raises a brow. “And watch me sleep?”
I laugh and blush slightly, shaking my head. “No, you misunderstood. I’ll sleep too; I’m fucking tired.”
We ventured off into Gerard’s little dungeon of a room, this basement with one foot by foot by ChampionDeals">WINDOW and poor ventilation, heating, and lighting. Gerard trades his skinny jeans for a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, and he hands me a pair patterned with Gir from Invader Zim. I slip into the pants and join Gerard in bed, who’s already close to dozing off.
And I can’t sleep. I just lay there for over an hour, listening to the sound of Gerard’s breathing and willing myself to shut down. I just lay back and wonder, wonder if this is enough.
Glancing over at Gerard, I know it’s not. What we have is great, and call me greedy, but I want more. I don’t just want it, I need it, I need to know that the boy cares about me as much as I care about him.
But promises made are not necessarily promises kept. And in this case, I failed to get a fucking vow.

Notes

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