Manage me, I'm a mess.
The way you're talking.
Chapter 4. I am really enjoying this. I am going to update as much as possible as on Friday, to Monday I am going on a small holiday. I can bring my computer to work on some chapters, but I can’t upload them, as I have no internet. Okay, enjoy.
*Knock, Knock*
I groan as I slowly open my eyes, seeing my door open. It is just my mum. She looks around my messed up room and sighs. She then meets my eyes, and her whole face turns sad. I frown for a second, but then realise why.
I am still wearing the jacket.
“Sweetie,” She whispers, walking over to my bed and kneeling down next to it, “It is time to get up. You have school.”
I groan, and roll over, not wanting to deal with her.
“Come on Kobie,” She tells me, stroking my hair, “Once you’re ready, please come down stairs, your father and I want to talk to you.”
She gets up and leaves, shutting the door behind her, leaving me to wallow in my own despair. Great, now I have to talk to my parents about yesterday. Maybe I can sneak out and go to school? Yeah, I’ll try that.
I jump out of bed, fixing up my glasses which I slept with, still on my face, and carefully step around the mess on my floor, walking to my cupboard. I open it up, and pull out a simple outfit for the day. A pair of baggy blue jeans, a plain black Green Day shirt, with a white long sleeve shirt to go under it.
I strip off my clothes that I slept in, not bothering to go shower. I deem my boxers to be clean enough, and don’t bother about changing them before pull on the jeans. I grab my deodorant off my floor, shake it, and spray it on. I then pull over the white long sleeve shirt, shortly followed by the Green Day one. I grab a pair of black and white Convers and slip them on. I stand up and check myself out in the mirror, making sure nothing is crooked, put on backwards, or has a tag showing. Once satisfied, I reach in to my cupboard and grab out my belt. I looped the black leather belt through the loops on my jeans, and buckled it up.
I walk over to where I kept my school bag, a plain black Nike bag with two straps, and began to shove my books into it. I grab my History, Geometry, English, Art and Music books, and shove them into my bag. I double check my pencil case is there before I move off to look for my phone. I find it on my bedside table, and turn it on. It has 97% charge and five new notifications. I put in the password, and open up the notifications. Three new twitter followers, new Snapchat, new update for Neko Atsume, new text from Curly Knob (Jackson Toro), and new text from Sass Queen (Bandit Way).
I open up twitter and check the followers. It doesn’t really surprise me that I am always getting new followers. People don’t follow because they like my posts, they follow me because my father is Mikey fucking Way. I exit twitter once I check the followers, then move on to Snapchat. It was a snapchat from Mini_Drummer_69, A.K.A Miles Iero. It was a photo of a cute little black poodle puppy with the message, ‘When will it end?’ I laugh knowing that this means Frank probably brought a new dog, or found one. I respond by sending a photo of my fucked up room with the caption, ‘You think that’s bad? Look at this shit!’ I exit Snapchat, and scroll past Neko Atsume, knowing it is probably just a new cat I don’t care about, and go straight to the texts. I open Jackson’s first.
‘Hey dude do we hav the test 4 maths 2 day?’
I laugh at his stupidity, as we don’t even have normal maths today.
‘Thats Wednesday dipshit.’
I respond, laughing slightly as I send it. I close down his contact and open Bandit’s.
‘Hey is everything alright wth u?’
I frown. Why would Bandit ask that? Normally when she messages me, it is about her coming by or something stupid Lily and/or Cherry did.
‘Fine. Why?’
As soon as I send the message, Bandit responds almost instantly.
‘Well bcoz ur dad called yesterday rlly upst. My dad said u 2 gt in a fight.’
I feel a white hot rage burn inside me. I can’t believe him. My dad called my uncle for help cause he could deal with this himself. Pathetic.
‘Look what happened is none of ur bssness so just piss off.’
I respond angrily. I can’t believe her. She is meant to be my cousin. She promised never to butt into my business, and to treat me like a younger sibling. Yet here she is, asking about the fight I had with my dad that is none of her business.
‘Srry. I just wanted 2 kno if u were alright.’
I don’t respond to the text. I click my phone off, and walk over to the pile of clothes left on the ground from when I was getting dressed. I shuffle through them, and pick up my dad’s old jacket. I go to put it back in the box, when I stop. I turn to my mirror, and slip it on over my shirt. It doesn’t look that bad. It is a bit big, but I don’t care. I button up the Black Parade jacket, and check it out in the mirror. It looks good.
I decide to finish getting ready, but the rest of my routine is out of my room. I groan and walk over to my door, slowly opening it. I sneak down the halls, keeping my ears open to make sure my parents don’t notice I’ve left my room. I really don’t want to deal with them.
I creep into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind me, locking it so if I am caught, they can’t get to me. I look at my hair in the mirror, and can’t help but grimace. It is sticking up in all directions, and looks matted. I grab my brush of the counter top, and begin to tame and style the mangled mess of hair. I leave it in its usual style, brushed with a little Padawan braid at the back. Once happy, I grab my toothbrush, and start the process of brushing my teeth.
I put my toothbrush away, unlock the door, and quietly rush to my room. I shut the door upon entry, and walk over to the pile of stuff on my floor. I sigh, knowing I’m going to have to clean this all up later, and pick up my money box. I figure, since I don’t want to face my parents, that if I but lunch at school, I won’t have to go down and get food from the kitchen. I unscrew the nose of the pig, and empty out the money onto my desk. I count $5. That should get me at least a bottle of water and sandwich at school, which will do me fine. I’ll just nick food of my friends at recess.
I put the money in the pocket of my jeans, and sling my bag on my back. My clock reads 7:38AM, and I normally leave at 8AM to catch the bus, but I figure I’ll walk today. I open my window, grab my headphones and phone, before I climb out the window onto the roof. I slowly walk across the roof, until I reach the tree out the front of the house. I grab onto the branch sitting against the roof, and climb onto it. I know I could have just gone downstairs and snuck out through the basement, but that was too risky as I have to go past the lounge room to get there. They might be in there. I slowly climb down the trunk of the tree, not letting go till my feet hit the ground. Once out of the tree, I walk away from my house, and on the path to school.
I plug my headphones into my phone, and press shuffle on Spotify. HeavyDirtySoul by Twenty One Pilots comes on. I keep my eyes on the path as the song rings through my ears. I stop at some street lights, and wait for it to turn green. As I am waiting, a boy I sometimes talk to in class comes running up to me. His name is Harry, and he only talks to me because he is a fan of MCR.
“Hey Kobra!” He calls, waving at me, smiling.
I look at him through the corner of my eye and shrug my greetings. He looks at me, before realising he isn’t going to get a reaction any more than that from me, so he just turns away, putting his eyes on the path in front of him. I am glad about it. That kid is so fucking annoying.
The light turns green, and we cross. He runs ahead of me, and I smile slightly, knowing he won’t bug me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice kid, Harry, but he keeps asking if MCR will ever get back together, if he can have my dad’s autograph, if he can have mine. If I can get MCR to play at his birthday, his wedding, even his fucking funeral. It is really annoying.
As I walk further to school, I hear the familiar sounds to the song Boy Division by MCR play from my phone. I take out my phone, as that is my ringtone, and look at the caller ID. It’s my dad.
I let it ring.
I continue to walk in silence, apart from my music, for another thirty minuets, before I reach the school. I enter the school, and don’t acknowledge anyone around me. I head straight for my locker and shove my shit in it, only taking out my Art book and pencil case. I slam my locker shut, and head back outside to the area where I sit with my friends. It is under an old oak tree, with a wooden picnic bench under it. Nothing special.
I sit down at the bench, and open my Art book. I have been working on a drawing for Art, and I want to try and finish it within the next week. We were told to draw something in our life, and how we see it. I drew my father. It is a simple sketch of him dressed in his Kobra Kid costume. He has his helmet next to him on the ground, with his gun in hand. His face, however, has his glasses on, with his hair from 2007. He is frowning, looking disappointed. His signature Mustang bass is strapped to his back, and a tour bus is in the background. The sky is grey, as if it I going to rain, and his Black Parade jacket in sat in the mud.
I am still darkening the outlines, and hopefully will start to paint it today in art. I am planning on using pale water colours to show that he is kinda faded in my memories. He was always on tour throughout my childhood, missing out on important occasions in my life, which I represent with the jacket in the mud, mainly because that item of clothing was my favourite when I was a kid. The bus shows how he would always go into that bus, then leave for months at a time. The glasses are a representation of my relationship with him, as he never wears them as he got eye surgery, so he no longer needs them. This basically shows how he gets rid of something in his life to the point he doesn’t need it anymore, A.K.A me. The hair is from the time when he first really fell into depression, and how it was basically the same severity as when I was six. The face, well I guess you can put two and two together.
“HEY KOBRA!”
I slam my book shut, and whip my head around to see Jackson walking over to me.
“I see you’re bring the Black Parade back,” He smirks gesturing to my jacket.
“Oh, yeah,” I mumble, and turn back to my art book, opening to a blank page, and drawing up a simple sketch.
“Hey what’s up dude?” Jackson asks, growing concerned.
“It’s nothing,” I mumble, not looking up from my art book, “Just didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Oh, okay,” He mumbles, but does look entirely convinced.
He sits down across from me, and whips out his phone.
“Whatcha drawing?” He asks, leaning over to peek at my sketch.
“Just a random cat,” I mutter, smirking as it looks like Piglet.
“Well it looks pretty angry, and fat,” Jackson smirks, “You drawing little Piggy?”
I laugh, and look up at him smiling.
“There we go,” He cheers, “There’s that happy snake.”
“Shut up,” I mumble, ducking my head to hid my blush, but grinning like a mad man, “Miles here yet?”
“Nah,” He shakes his head, “Probably playing sick again.”
“Seriously,” I say, looking up to face him “Frank believes anything that kid says.”
“Yeah,” Jackson agrees, “If he says he has a sore throat, he’ll get a whole month off school.”
I nod, and return to my drawing of Piglet, and Jackson returns to his phone.
We stay like that for around five minutes before the bell goes, signalling Roll Call. I jump up, turn my music off, and follow Jackson into the school.
“See you in history,” He says, as we break off.
“Yeah,” I call back, waving to him and walking into my class room.
I walk to my assigned seat at the back, and sit down. I get a few looks, and I assume that it is from kids recognising my jacket, or may just for the fact that I am related to Mikey Way. They always look at me for that.
“Hey,” The slut of the school, Claire, says walking over to me once I’m seated, “Nice jacket.”
I know her game. She sees someone with something cool and expensive, flirts with them, they sleep together, she takes the item, sells it, breaks it off with the kid.
“Thanks,” I mumble, turning away from her, “And before you ask, yes it belongs to Mikey Way, and yes it is the one from the Black Parade.”
“Ooh,” She says, acting surprised, “I had no idea,” She’s a fucking liar, “Must be expensive Huh.”
She runs are gross, long, manicure nails down my chest, rapping her arm around me.
“Get off me,” I snap, pushing her sightly, “I know your game Claire. If you see something expensive, you sleep with the owner of it, steal it, sell it for money, then dump the poor kid. Well I got news for you, I’M NOT FUCKING INTERESTED! SO YOU CAN JUST BUZZ OFF, AND GO FUCK SOME OTHER POOR BASTERD!”
She stands there shocked from a few moments, before turning on her heal and stomping back to her spot. I am not in the mood to deal with these bitches today.
“Okay everyone,” My teacher, Mr Ryan, calls, walking into the room, “Settle down, so we can get this done. Alright, James Toll?”
“Here.”
He begins to call out the roll, but I just drown him out, only keeping an ear out if my name is called.
“Michael Way?”
“Here,” I mumble, really not interested.
“I see you’re wearing one of you dad’s old jackets,” He points out, “Black Parade, am I correct.”
“Yes,” I sigh, looking out the window, “It’s nothing special, just some manky old jacket.”
“To you,” He tells me, “To thousands of kids, it is a piece of rock history.”
I don’t respond.
Mr Ryan continues on with the roll, and I continue to drown out all noises.
*RRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG*
The bell screams out through the halls, and everyone jumps up from their seats, and head to their lockers to retrieve their belongs for the first period. I stand up from my seat, and forward out of the class with the rest of them, grabbing my art book and pencil case on the way.
The day has officially started.
*Knock, Knock*
I groan as I slowly open my eyes, seeing my door open. It is just my mum. She looks around my messed up room and sighs. She then meets my eyes, and her whole face turns sad. I frown for a second, but then realise why.
I am still wearing the jacket.
“Sweetie,” She whispers, walking over to my bed and kneeling down next to it, “It is time to get up. You have school.”
I groan, and roll over, not wanting to deal with her.
“Come on Kobie,” She tells me, stroking my hair, “Once you’re ready, please come down stairs, your father and I want to talk to you.”
She gets up and leaves, shutting the door behind her, leaving me to wallow in my own despair. Great, now I have to talk to my parents about yesterday. Maybe I can sneak out and go to school? Yeah, I’ll try that.
I jump out of bed, fixing up my glasses which I slept with, still on my face, and carefully step around the mess on my floor, walking to my cupboard. I open it up, and pull out a simple outfit for the day. A pair of baggy blue jeans, a plain black Green Day shirt, with a white long sleeve shirt to go under it.
I strip off my clothes that I slept in, not bothering to go shower. I deem my boxers to be clean enough, and don’t bother about changing them before pull on the jeans. I grab my deodorant off my floor, shake it, and spray it on. I then pull over the white long sleeve shirt, shortly followed by the Green Day one. I grab a pair of black and white Convers and slip them on. I stand up and check myself out in the mirror, making sure nothing is crooked, put on backwards, or has a tag showing. Once satisfied, I reach in to my cupboard and grab out my belt. I looped the black leather belt through the loops on my jeans, and buckled it up.
I walk over to where I kept my school bag, a plain black Nike bag with two straps, and began to shove my books into it. I grab my History, Geometry, English, Art and Music books, and shove them into my bag. I double check my pencil case is there before I move off to look for my phone. I find it on my bedside table, and turn it on. It has 97% charge and five new notifications. I put in the password, and open up the notifications. Three new twitter followers, new Snapchat, new update for Neko Atsume, new text from Curly Knob (Jackson Toro), and new text from Sass Queen (Bandit Way).
I open up twitter and check the followers. It doesn’t really surprise me that I am always getting new followers. People don’t follow because they like my posts, they follow me because my father is Mikey fucking Way. I exit twitter once I check the followers, then move on to Snapchat. It was a snapchat from Mini_Drummer_69, A.K.A Miles Iero. It was a photo of a cute little black poodle puppy with the message, ‘When will it end?’ I laugh knowing that this means Frank probably brought a new dog, or found one. I respond by sending a photo of my fucked up room with the caption, ‘You think that’s bad? Look at this shit!’ I exit Snapchat, and scroll past Neko Atsume, knowing it is probably just a new cat I don’t care about, and go straight to the texts. I open Jackson’s first.
‘Hey dude do we hav the test 4 maths 2 day?’
I laugh at his stupidity, as we don’t even have normal maths today.
‘Thats Wednesday dipshit.’
I respond, laughing slightly as I send it. I close down his contact and open Bandit’s.
‘Hey is everything alright wth u?’
I frown. Why would Bandit ask that? Normally when she messages me, it is about her coming by or something stupid Lily and/or Cherry did.
‘Fine. Why?’
As soon as I send the message, Bandit responds almost instantly.
‘Well bcoz ur dad called yesterday rlly upst. My dad said u 2 gt in a fight.’
I feel a white hot rage burn inside me. I can’t believe him. My dad called my uncle for help cause he could deal with this himself. Pathetic.
‘Look what happened is none of ur bssness so just piss off.’
I respond angrily. I can’t believe her. She is meant to be my cousin. She promised never to butt into my business, and to treat me like a younger sibling. Yet here she is, asking about the fight I had with my dad that is none of her business.
‘Srry. I just wanted 2 kno if u were alright.’
I don’t respond to the text. I click my phone off, and walk over to the pile of clothes left on the ground from when I was getting dressed. I shuffle through them, and pick up my dad’s old jacket. I go to put it back in the box, when I stop. I turn to my mirror, and slip it on over my shirt. It doesn’t look that bad. It is a bit big, but I don’t care. I button up the Black Parade jacket, and check it out in the mirror. It looks good.
I decide to finish getting ready, but the rest of my routine is out of my room. I groan and walk over to my door, slowly opening it. I sneak down the halls, keeping my ears open to make sure my parents don’t notice I’ve left my room. I really don’t want to deal with them.
I creep into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind me, locking it so if I am caught, they can’t get to me. I look at my hair in the mirror, and can’t help but grimace. It is sticking up in all directions, and looks matted. I grab my brush of the counter top, and begin to tame and style the mangled mess of hair. I leave it in its usual style, brushed with a little Padawan braid at the back. Once happy, I grab my toothbrush, and start the process of brushing my teeth.
I put my toothbrush away, unlock the door, and quietly rush to my room. I shut the door upon entry, and walk over to the pile of stuff on my floor. I sigh, knowing I’m going to have to clean this all up later, and pick up my money box. I figure, since I don’t want to face my parents, that if I but lunch at school, I won’t have to go down and get food from the kitchen. I unscrew the nose of the pig, and empty out the money onto my desk. I count $5. That should get me at least a bottle of water and sandwich at school, which will do me fine. I’ll just nick food of my friends at recess.
I put the money in the pocket of my jeans, and sling my bag on my back. My clock reads 7:38AM, and I normally leave at 8AM to catch the bus, but I figure I’ll walk today. I open my window, grab my headphones and phone, before I climb out the window onto the roof. I slowly walk across the roof, until I reach the tree out the front of the house. I grab onto the branch sitting against the roof, and climb onto it. I know I could have just gone downstairs and snuck out through the basement, but that was too risky as I have to go past the lounge room to get there. They might be in there. I slowly climb down the trunk of the tree, not letting go till my feet hit the ground. Once out of the tree, I walk away from my house, and on the path to school.
I plug my headphones into my phone, and press shuffle on Spotify. HeavyDirtySoul by Twenty One Pilots comes on. I keep my eyes on the path as the song rings through my ears. I stop at some street lights, and wait for it to turn green. As I am waiting, a boy I sometimes talk to in class comes running up to me. His name is Harry, and he only talks to me because he is a fan of MCR.
“Hey Kobra!” He calls, waving at me, smiling.
I look at him through the corner of my eye and shrug my greetings. He looks at me, before realising he isn’t going to get a reaction any more than that from me, so he just turns away, putting his eyes on the path in front of him. I am glad about it. That kid is so fucking annoying.
The light turns green, and we cross. He runs ahead of me, and I smile slightly, knowing he won’t bug me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice kid, Harry, but he keeps asking if MCR will ever get back together, if he can have my dad’s autograph, if he can have mine. If I can get MCR to play at his birthday, his wedding, even his fucking funeral. It is really annoying.
As I walk further to school, I hear the familiar sounds to the song Boy Division by MCR play from my phone. I take out my phone, as that is my ringtone, and look at the caller ID. It’s my dad.
I let it ring.
I continue to walk in silence, apart from my music, for another thirty minuets, before I reach the school. I enter the school, and don’t acknowledge anyone around me. I head straight for my locker and shove my shit in it, only taking out my Art book and pencil case. I slam my locker shut, and head back outside to the area where I sit with my friends. It is under an old oak tree, with a wooden picnic bench under it. Nothing special.
I sit down at the bench, and open my Art book. I have been working on a drawing for Art, and I want to try and finish it within the next week. We were told to draw something in our life, and how we see it. I drew my father. It is a simple sketch of him dressed in his Kobra Kid costume. He has his helmet next to him on the ground, with his gun in hand. His face, however, has his glasses on, with his hair from 2007. He is frowning, looking disappointed. His signature Mustang bass is strapped to his back, and a tour bus is in the background. The sky is grey, as if it I going to rain, and his Black Parade jacket in sat in the mud.
I am still darkening the outlines, and hopefully will start to paint it today in art. I am planning on using pale water colours to show that he is kinda faded in my memories. He was always on tour throughout my childhood, missing out on important occasions in my life, which I represent with the jacket in the mud, mainly because that item of clothing was my favourite when I was a kid. The bus shows how he would always go into that bus, then leave for months at a time. The glasses are a representation of my relationship with him, as he never wears them as he got eye surgery, so he no longer needs them. This basically shows how he gets rid of something in his life to the point he doesn’t need it anymore, A.K.A me. The hair is from the time when he first really fell into depression, and how it was basically the same severity as when I was six. The face, well I guess you can put two and two together.
“HEY KOBRA!”
I slam my book shut, and whip my head around to see Jackson walking over to me.
“I see you’re bring the Black Parade back,” He smirks gesturing to my jacket.
“Oh, yeah,” I mumble, and turn back to my art book, opening to a blank page, and drawing up a simple sketch.
“Hey what’s up dude?” Jackson asks, growing concerned.
“It’s nothing,” I mumble, not looking up from my art book, “Just didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Oh, okay,” He mumbles, but does look entirely convinced.
He sits down across from me, and whips out his phone.
“Whatcha drawing?” He asks, leaning over to peek at my sketch.
“Just a random cat,” I mutter, smirking as it looks like Piglet.
“Well it looks pretty angry, and fat,” Jackson smirks, “You drawing little Piggy?”
I laugh, and look up at him smiling.
“There we go,” He cheers, “There’s that happy snake.”
“Shut up,” I mumble, ducking my head to hid my blush, but grinning like a mad man, “Miles here yet?”
“Nah,” He shakes his head, “Probably playing sick again.”
“Seriously,” I say, looking up to face him “Frank believes anything that kid says.”
“Yeah,” Jackson agrees, “If he says he has a sore throat, he’ll get a whole month off school.”
I nod, and return to my drawing of Piglet, and Jackson returns to his phone.
We stay like that for around five minutes before the bell goes, signalling Roll Call. I jump up, turn my music off, and follow Jackson into the school.
“See you in history,” He says, as we break off.
“Yeah,” I call back, waving to him and walking into my class room.
I walk to my assigned seat at the back, and sit down. I get a few looks, and I assume that it is from kids recognising my jacket, or may just for the fact that I am related to Mikey Way. They always look at me for that.
“Hey,” The slut of the school, Claire, says walking over to me once I’m seated, “Nice jacket.”
I know her game. She sees someone with something cool and expensive, flirts with them, they sleep together, she takes the item, sells it, breaks it off with the kid.
“Thanks,” I mumble, turning away from her, “And before you ask, yes it belongs to Mikey Way, and yes it is the one from the Black Parade.”
“Ooh,” She says, acting surprised, “I had no idea,” She’s a fucking liar, “Must be expensive Huh.”
She runs are gross, long, manicure nails down my chest, rapping her arm around me.
“Get off me,” I snap, pushing her sightly, “I know your game Claire. If you see something expensive, you sleep with the owner of it, steal it, sell it for money, then dump the poor kid. Well I got news for you, I’M NOT FUCKING INTERESTED! SO YOU CAN JUST BUZZ OFF, AND GO FUCK SOME OTHER POOR BASTERD!”
She stands there shocked from a few moments, before turning on her heal and stomping back to her spot. I am not in the mood to deal with these bitches today.
“Okay everyone,” My teacher, Mr Ryan, calls, walking into the room, “Settle down, so we can get this done. Alright, James Toll?”
“Here.”
He begins to call out the roll, but I just drown him out, only keeping an ear out if my name is called.
“Michael Way?”
“Here,” I mumble, really not interested.
“I see you’re wearing one of you dad’s old jackets,” He points out, “Black Parade, am I correct.”
“Yes,” I sigh, looking out the window, “It’s nothing special, just some manky old jacket.”
“To you,” He tells me, “To thousands of kids, it is a piece of rock history.”
I don’t respond.
Mr Ryan continues on with the roll, and I continue to drown out all noises.
*RRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG*
The bell screams out through the halls, and everyone jumps up from their seats, and head to their lockers to retrieve their belongs for the first period. I stand up from my seat, and forward out of the class with the rest of them, grabbing my art book and pencil case on the way.
The day has officially started.
Ooh this is interesting! Update soon please!
(And about the BFF video, I'm pretty sure it's Miles. I don't know anything for sure but it would make sense if it was.)
10/16/16