Needles. So many needles. On the walls, coming in the windows, surrounding and engulfing me. I screamed as the first one pierced my skin and the scream turned to a blood curdling shriek as more and more pushed their way through my soft flesh. I tried to move, to escape, but every time I did they just plunged deeper into me. I stopped struggling and accepted the fact that I was going to die. Any minute now, I thought, they’ll puncture something vital and it will all be over. Soon, I thought. But they didn’t. they kept coming until every inch of skin was covered, then a flash and it all went black.

I woke to find myself drenched in sweat. My bed sheets were tangled up in me and my duvet was halfway across the room. I glanced at the clock. 6:29am, the red LED lights told me. My hand darted out from under me, but not quick enough to stop the piercing sound of the alarm clock ringing as the numbers turned to 6:30am. I groaned, and somehow managed to get out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. I showered off the sweat and woke myself up in the process with the water changing from warm heaven to icy doom in a matter of seconds once the hot water ran out. I gave my hair a quick towel dry and got dressed.

I still had no idea where the blue hoodie came from, or what the strange artwork on it meant, but the design intrigued me so I pulled it on.

I clomped upstairs to grab a coffee and a light breakfast before my first day. My bag had been prepared lovingly by my mom, who knew that I’d forget and then scramble franticly for it in the morning. It was the same scruffy black bag that I’d used since the fourth grade, I’d just added band patches to it. It was still in perfect condition, so I’d never found a reason to get a new one.

Mikey bundled down the stairs and into the kitchen. He drank a cup of coffee in 2 seconds straight, then slammed his cup down on the table.

“More!” he insisted.

He downed 3 more cups of coffee in this manner, before sprinting for the bathroom. When he returned, he asked for more but was refused it by our mom. She ruffled his hair, handed him a slice of toast and his schoolbag and sent the two of us out the door. I don’t know how, but somehow, an hour had passed since I’d woken that morning, and it was almost time to leave for school.

As we drove down the main street, we saw a couple of kids who were obviously headed for our school. They looked tired, red faced and very unfriendly. I was beginning to get a bad feeling that didn’t fade as I drove into the school grounds and parked my car near the gate. I arranged to meet Mikey here after school, gave him a pat on the back, and watched him as he walked off into the stream of people entering the school. I sat on the car bonnet for a minute or two and just watched everyone walk in. Some seemed genuinely excited, probably juniors, others looked suicidal, and others just looked normal and accepting of the fact that you had to go to school. I decided I wanted to be in the latter group and so locked the car, sighed, and joined the people walking into my new school.

I entered the school and made my way to my homeroom, which was first class. I was extremely glad that I’d checked out the school beforehand because otherwise I would be extremely lost. I chose a seat on the edge of a row, near the back, away from the other people who had begun to gather in the classroom. Eventually the room began to fill up and the seat behind and in front of me filled, but the desk to my left side remained empty. The bell rang and a couple of minutes later, a teacher entered the room.

She was middle aged, with red hair and a soft expression. She wore black pants, a white shirt, and a red tie which she’d personalised with Queen lyrics. I’d only known her a few minutes but I decided that I liked her. Her name was Ms. Williams and she was our class tutor for the year. She quickly drew up our timetable on the board, adding little twists and flicks to the design which I thought were awesome.

Despite all her niceness, the other students obviously didn’t like her. I heard the boys behind me whispering about how she was a whore and a stupid cow for giving them detention last year. Their annoying voices had been niggling at my head for a few minutes, so I turned around to confront them.

Before I had uttered a word, my head had snapped back in the direction of the door when it crashed open. In stumbled a short, black haired boy, whose pale cheeks had begun to take on a rosy colour. He apologised for his lateness to Ms. Williams and shuffled down the aisles of tables to find a free one. There was only one table left, the one beside me.

From in front of me, I heard someone say “Nice way to make an entrance, Iero,” and a couple of sniggers echoed from around the classroom.

Ms Williams chose to pretend she didn’t hear that comment and continued explaining whatever she was saying about a new school ethos. I glanced over at the dark haired kid. I opened my mouth to ask him if he was okay, but he caught me looking at him before I had formed a word.

“What are you fucking looking at me for?” he spat at me.

“I-I-I just wanted to see if you were okay,” I whispered, “I know what it feels like to be called cruel shit.”

“I’m fucking top of the morning,” he hissed, “and I don’t need your sympathy or your fucking sob story. So fuck off.” He turned his head away from me and I sighed. Never fucking again was I going to try to be nice. The bell went and I made my way to my next class, which happened to be Music.

In the Music classroom, something happened to me that had never happened to me before; I actually fit in. I took a seat beside some kids with cool band shirts, and I clicked with them immediately. Their names are Josh, Taylor and Ray and they seem pretty cool. The music teacher noticed I was new and called me up to his desk. He asked what instruments I played, and I ashamedly told him I didn’t play anything, I just sung.

He was shocked, apparently “the school doesn’t have any male singers, it’s so great you’re a singer!” and arranged for me to meet him sometime and sing for him. I laughed and agreed, and went back to my new group of friends, who it turns out are in all of my classes, bar one. I had an okay day, managing to make my way through the day scat free until last period; Art.

As the bell for last period went, I realised truly how fucked I was. I had no clue where the art room was, not even the slightest idea. After wandering the corridors for a few minutes, I made my way back to the office and asked Flora for help.

“Ah, Art Dep always eludes people,” she chuckled.

She led me to a dead end corridor, and pointed to a set of stairs leading downwards that I hadn’t noticed before. I thanked her, and made my way down. I hoped the art teacher was nice. I pushed the door open and the smell of wet acrylic paint met my nose. Ms Williams glanced up from her desk.

“Ah, you must be Gerard! You’re in my tutor class right? I’m Ms Williams, nice to meet you, again.”

I knew there was something distinctly arty about her. I realised that I didn’t see any other students and took a look around.

“So you’ve noticed my emptiness?” she said, and laughed. “There’s meant to be another kid here, but he’s a no show. So I guess it’s me and you.”

I laughed too, imagining how awkward this was going to be. But I was surprised to find it wasn’t. She set me a task, sketching a still life of a razor blade plunged into a Bible. I liked the image, and tried really hard at perfecting it. It didn’t take long, so I added a few personal touches, making the Bible bleed and putting it on a background of broken stone with a few blades of grass poking through. When I presented it to Ms Williams at the end of class, she looked genuinely impressed.

“You have a talent Gerard,” she said, sounding extremely serious in a way I’d never heard anyone before. “Don’t waste it. Don’t do anything stupid.”

I promised her I wouldn’t and left her classroom, still not really sure what she meant. I met Josh, Taylor and Ray on the way out, and they invited me to what they called “the most killer party ever, man” which was on in a club in town that night. I agreed to go, and exchanged numbers with them, saying I’d meet them at eight.

Mikey was waiting at the car, talking to someone I didn’t recognise. As I neared, I did recognise the person. It was that weird kid from homeroom. He left as soon as he saw me approaching. I clicked the car unlocked and Mikey sat in. He was extremely happy, he had cool teachers and a huge group of friends already. I asked him what the kid wanted.

“He said I looked like a bass player,” Mikey said, “and that I should give it a try. Strange dude.”

Exactly, I thought, feeling something in my stomach I was ashamed to realise was jealousy of Mikey. The kid had been straight up fucking rude to me, but all happy families with Mikey? I sighed, and I turned on the car radio, blasting the Smashing Pumpkins the whole way home, Mikey and I both screaming out the lyrics totally off key but loving it anyways.

When we got home, we both became blubbering messes, telling Mom the events of the day, and the events planned for tonight.

“Already meeting up with friends? Well I never, my two boys becoming social butterflies!” she exclaimed.

She handed us dinner, a delicious looking mac’n’cheese, gave us ten dollars each and wished us luck on our social outings. I smiled, and then made my way out the door to meet my friends.

My friends. Those are two beautiful words that I will never ever get sick of rolling off my tongue.