Catacomb Kids

Gerard picked me to go to school Monday morning, totally unannounced. I peered out my window around 7:20, chewing on my breakfast bar slowly as I watched a car roll into my driveway. Realizing that the rusted piece of shit belonged to Gerard, I snatched my camera off the table, rushing out the door as I called “Bye, Ma!”
I rushed into the passenger seat, nearly closing the door on my tie. My hand immediately went for the radio, flipping through stations.
Gerard took a sip of his coffee, greeting, “It's nice to see you too, sunshine.”
I blushed, murmuring, “Thanks for picking me up, Gerard.” I landed briefly on station 103.9, which was playing Zero by the Smashing Pumpkins. Hearing that the song was halfway through, I switched onto the next.
Gerard swatted at my hand, ordering, “Turn it back.”
“Turn it back?” I repeated.
“Yeah,” Gerard insisted. “It was the Pumpkins man, come on.”
“The song will be over in a minute,” I mumbled.
Gerard scoffed, “So?”
I frowned, scolding, “You never look at the long term. Why stop on a song, listen for sixty entire seconds, then go back to channelsurfing? It's easier to keep your finger on the dial.” I cranked the knob, adding, “It's like running; it's best to keep going than to stop and try to pick it back up.”
“You did not just compare listening to the radio to running, did you?” Gerard snorted.
“Yeah, and?”
Gerard shook his head, replying, “Listening to the radio can range from mediocre to religious depending on the station and the time of day. However, running is mildly unpleasant at best.”
I smirked, finally muting the radio as Gerard pulled into his regular parking spot.
I turned to get out, my hand pushing the door ajar. Gerard stopped me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling the door shut with his other.
“What?”
Gerard grinned, easing me back into my seat. He crawled over to straddle me, teasing, “Alright M. Night Shyamalan. Fire up that camera; we're making a director's cut.”
I began to talk, well, not exactly talk. Whatever came out of my mouth was an attempt at English, but not a coherent one. These non-words got covered by Gerard pressing his lips to mine, then biting on my lower lip.
“Ger-Gerard...” I stammered once I got the chance. “Right here? Now?”
Gerard pouted. “Why not?”
“What if we get caught?” I protested.
Gerard rolled his eyes, retorting, “Yeah, Frank. I'm sure they'll all be doing flashlight searches on a Monday morning.”
“That's the thing, they don't need flashlights. Who the fuck needs flashlights to see inside of a car when it's broad fucking daylight!” I hissed, Gerard nipping at my neck all the while.
“Relax, Frankie,” Gerard hushed. He brought a hand down my stomach and onto the lap of my slacks, thumbing around my hard on. He kissed at my neck, assuring, “I'll take good care of you.”
I believed him. So, I decided to give in to my lackluster, hormone-driven adolescent decisions and let him get me off right there opposite the football field. Just as I was letting nature take it's course, Gerard totally bailed, smiling as he got off of me and left the car.
I scrambled to catch up to him, straightening my shirt and grabbing my backpack last minute. I slammed his car door, catching the end of a book bag strap in it as well. “Hold up!” I shouted. Wrestling the thing free, I hastily carried it over my still erect penis as I chased after Gerard.
“Wait up!” I called, reaching him. I smacked him on the arm, demanding, “What the hell was that all about?!”
Gerard chuckled, replying, “You really think I'd let you get away with giving me blue balls Friday night?”
“Are you serious?” I groaned.
“You started it,” Gerard said.
“Dude, that was in your room! At nighttime! It's 8 in the morning, Gerard, and I have Spanish in ten minutes!”
Gerard just giggled, “Maybe Ms. Brooks will just think you really like foreign languages.”
I hit him on the arm again, this time making him wince. Good. “This is so embarrassing, dude!”
“Well, yeah, because you're walking around with a Jansport in front of your crotch like a dork,” Gerard replied. “You couldn't be any more obvious.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” I growled.
Gerard nudges me, answering, “Do what I did. Spank her out.”
I scrunched my nose, questioning, “What, at school?”
“Yes, at school,” Gerard mimicked. “Honestly, just run to the nearest men's room, grab a stall, and your problem's gone in like two minutes.”
“Isn't that really weird?” I asked. “I mean, I'm weird and I know it, but I'm a different kind of weird, like a quirky, charming kind. But this... masturbating at school, this is the Charles Manson kind of weird.”
Gerard shrugged, telling, “Hey, do whatever you want.” He turned around, adding, “By the way, the bathroom's to your left.”
Desperate, I turned to the restroom as a last resort. I waited until Gerard was out of sight though; no way he needed the satisfaction of knowing that I took care of my problem staring down amateur graffiti covering the inside of the puke green stall door.
I tried to make it as fast as I could; I recited the phrase, “In and out,” under my breath about a dozen times.
I reached the bathroom, disheartened to see a small cluster of boys on their phones hanging by the urinals. I shuffled to a stall as quickly as I could, throwing myself onto the seat and undoing my slacks.
I screwed my eyes shut and thought of anything other than the bathroom's vague stench of urine as I finished what Gerard had started.
I was just about done when the walls came crashing down around me. Literally, one of the guys had thought it'd be funny to kick my stall door in. Their reactions were probably priceless, but I was too busy zipping myself up to notice.
I got the hell out of there, catching one of them scoffing, “Fucking freak!”
My face stayed flushed red for what felt like hours.
The only part of my day I was looking forward to was lunch with the guys. Pete and Mikey were supposed to join us for the first time ever, now that they weren't tiptoeing around anymore. I wasn't sure if or when Ray met them, but I was certain that it'd be a good time.
Isn't it funny how quickly things can change?

Notes

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