Prom Fever

That brings my lovely day to a halting stop pretty damn quick. It’s not the fact that Lyn-Z is in my seat, and it’s totally not the fact that she’s currently nibbling on Gerard’s earlobe. No, the thing that’s bothering me is the idea that Gerard not only had the audacity to choose her over me, but then literally replaced me. He may as well throw me to the curb; once they have sex, I’m done for.
Lyn-Z has taken the liberty of sucking at Gerard’s neck, and Gerard’s filthy eyes roll back into his skull in ecstasy. When they finally reach the front again, he catches my eye and clears his throat, straightening in his chair. “Hey, man.”
That’s all he has to say? After everything? “Hi.”
I grudgingly sit down next to Lyn-Z since she’s in my actual spot and all. I try not to make a big deal out of it, but I must be grimacing because Gerard mentions, “Oh Lyn-Z, you’re in Frank’s spot.” She frowns at Gerard, who in turn chuckles, “I don’t know, he’s real anal about that kind of stuff.”
I clutch the table’s edge angrily. Who is he to call me anal? Like, excuse me for having flaws. At least I don’t fuck over my best friend for a girl whose name I kind of sort of remember.
Lyn-Z shuffles to the other side of Gerard, but I don’t claim my now empty seat. Gerard is tense; a vein in his neck flickers for a brief moment.
Feeling as uncomfortable as everyone else in the table, Lyn-Z tries to make conversation. “Frank, right? I’m Lyn-Z.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I scowl.
Lyn-Z looks annoyed, but she must know that I’m Gerard’s best friend and, to get into Gerard’s pants, she’ll have to go through me. She then proceeds, “What kind of music are you into?”
For some reason, all of this is really pissing me off. “Stuff,” I grumble.
Gerard shoots me a look, kind of a “what the fuck are you doing” but with more hostility. I couldn’t care less at the moment; I just want everyone to know the precise extent to which I am irritated.
“Do you like the Misfits?” Lyn-Z asks.
I open my mouth to say something. Maybe she’s not so bad after all, I mean, she has a nice taste in music.
That’s when I realize a crucial bit of information. Unable to get an answer from me, she’d just read my band t shirt.
“No, they fucking suck,” I snap. I stand briskly, swinging my bag harshly onto my back. I start to leave when this urge overcomes me. Not a sexual urge like I’m used to, but more of a mean-spirited type impulse. I add hotly, “Just fuck off, okay?” Barreling away, I mumble loud enough for them to hear, “Stupid cunt.”
Not knowing where else to go, I retreat to the bathroom. With any luck, I can hang out in here for the rest of the period without any trouble.
But of course with my luck, trouble finds me. The trouble is a Gerard so angry he’s practically shaking. He barges in, reaching for my collar and grabbing a fistful of my shirt. “What the fuck was that, Iero?”
“Don’t call me that,” I snarl.
Pushing me against a wall, Gerard growls, “I don’t think you’re in the position to call the shots right now.” His eyes intense and shoulders broad, he demands, “What the hell was that all about?”
I don’t want to answer, but Gerard’s practically choking me with how hard he’s pulling up on my collar. Of course I can’t tell him what’s really up, so I rack my brains for an excuse. What comes out isn’t even entirely true. “I don’t like her, Gerard.”
“So?” Gerard challenges. All but lifting me off the ground, he continues, “I do, and you’re supposed to support me. You’re acting like a real asshole.”
Without thinking, I punch him hard in the stomach. He releases me, clutching his arms over his gut as tears well in his eyes. I bark, “You’re the asshole!” before storming out.
I don’t see him for the whole rest of the day. Usually he meets me at my locker, but today he’s not there. I kind of expected that, and a small part of me is almost glad he didn’t show.
I’m sure I’ll feel very bad about all of this later, as things seem to go, but right now… I don’t. I’m really not sorry for anything I said or did, the pang of rejection is still fresh in mind, and the anger inside has yet to settle. Not only do I not feel bad, but I’m not even neutral about it. I’m mad at Gerard, and I’m a person who never really gets angry. I get annoyed and frustrated sure, but rarely do things get to this point where I want to hurt someone.
Still hot with rage, I rush home, slamming the door to my bedroom. Not to make sure everyone knows I’m mad, but just with a pure loss of control. I contemplate calling Mikey; maybe he’ll tell me what’s going on from Gerard’s end. I mean, I should be upset about all of this and be asking how he’s doing and all, but that’s not my current motivation. No, I just want to call because the fire’s still there and it won’t go out.
I’m irritable for the rest of the night, so I do everyone a favor by cutting off my contact without the outside world. In fact, I only leave my room on a few occasions for food and to relieve myself.
When I lay down for bed that night, I don’t know what will happen the next day. Will Gerard confront me? Or is he done wasting his time on me? I really don’t know at this point, and I could see things going either way.
All I know about tomorrow is that it will not be good.

Notes

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