Your Heart on the Line

The next day at school, I was going about my usual daily tasks of attending class, proceeding to draw the entire period, and then leaving in an orderly fashion. What I wasn’t anticipating was having someone new sit next to me at lunch. My table usually consisted of me, myself, and the occasional stray freshman who was having a fallout with their regular lunch table. Nobody sat at my table because they wanted to; only because they had no other choice.

Only, this changed, because the next thing I knew, Frank Iero was walking his happy ass on over and sitting right next to me. He nudged me with his shoulder as he set down his tray, greeting, “Hey, man. What’s up?”

Cautiously, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

Furrowing his brow, Frank retorted, “You got short-term memory loss, Way? Don’t you remember yesterday? We’re friends now.”

My eyebrows raised. “Wow, we’re friends?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, so that means you have to meet some of my friends.”

With that, Frank’s motley crew of misfits emerged almost as if they had been waiting for that very occasion. Included in his band of losers was a kid with black hair to his shoulders, another with curly brown hair and glasses, and one with dreadlocks. They all sat down, almost in sync. Frank went around, pointing to each as he introduced, “That’s Bert, that’s Ray, and that’s Eyebrows.”

“I think you meant Pete, fuck face,” Eyebrows snarled.

Frank rolled his eyes very dramatically before correcting, “Sorry, he goes by Pete now.” Frank sat for a moment, then adding, “But you can call him Eyebrows if you want.”

Pete flipped Frank off, then focusing on his food.

“Guys, this is Gerard,” Frank added. “Be nice to him, he’s cool.”

Bert reached across the table, clapping me on the shoulder. “What’s up, man?” He offered his hand, so I pulled mine in for a handshake, only he did this very elaborate sort of ritual in which I dumbly fumbled my hand and tried to mirror his. That’s one thing about being trans that they never tell you; you’re usually behind on social aspects in boyhood.

“Not much, what about you?” I answered, trying hard to keep my voice low.

He shrugged. “Not too much. I’m just waiting for our boy Frankie over here to give you the scoop on what’s going down tonight.”

I looked at Frank expectantly, who only told Bert, “What, I didn’t think Gerard would be interested, you know? He’s like a nerd, and… like a party-pooper.”

“I am not,” I squeaked.

Frank’s friends all raised their eyebrows at my high register, and one of them mocked me, parroting my defensive screech. Frank, seeing this, smacked him, then looked at me, telling, “Yeah, you are. Face it, if we’re the Ninja Turtles, you’re Donatello.”

“He’s so Donatello!” Ray agreed, laughing.

“Wait, what?!” I demanded. “No, no, listen, Donatello was like a geek… and really lame?”

“That’s you,” Frank said, while his friends nodded in agreement.

Unsure of what to say, I sat there, trying to come up with some sort of comeback. Only, I could feel the blood rushing to my face, and it wasn’t long before Frank and his friends noticed.

“Aw, he’s blushing!” Pete announced. He leaned over the table, pulling my head into his chest as he ground his knuckles into my scalp. “Baby boy!”

I shoved him off harshly, and he looked at me surprised. “Sorry,” I murmured. Desperate to cut the tension, I turned to Frank, pleading, “Come on, tell me? What’s going on?”

Frank shook his head, chuckling, “No, you’re like this innocent little flower. I’m not going to ruin that.”

I pouted, shaking at his shoulder. “Please?”

“Come on, Frankie, he wants to know,” Ray reasoned.

Frank sighed, mumbling, “Goddamn it. Alright, look, there’s a party at Ray’s tonight. You in or out?”

Taken aback, I answered, “In. In, I guess.”

“You guess, or you know? I’m not gonna babysit you all night,” Frank warned.

“You don’t have to babysit me; I’ll be fine! I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself,” I assured.

“That’s the spirit,” Ray remarked. “Show up around seven, Gerard.”

“I can’t drive,” I admitted.

“Wait, are you a freshman?” Bert questioned.

I gulped. “Y-yeah.”

Bert merely laughed, “Fresh meat! We’ll show you the ropes, don’t worry.”

“I’ll pick you up; just hang out with Frankie after school,” Pete offered.

I nodded, muttering, “Thanks.”

Pete gave me the thumbs up, leaving to get rid of his tray. On his way back, he was tripped, sending him sprawled out on the floor in front of our table. Some laughter arose, as did clapping from other students. Red, Pete stood, pulling on his hood and ducking his head as he sat down.

I saw Frank get up, move over to Pete and put a hand on his shoulder. Leaning in, the two exchanged a few words before Frank sat back down with gritted teeth. His fists were on the table, knuckles white from how hard he was squeezing his hands together.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Frank dismissed. “Just an asshole, that’s all.”

Wanting to change the subject, I questioned, “So, what’s going on at this party tonight?”

“Toro? Enlighten our boy,” Frank ordered.

Ray spoke, “Well, we’re going to have some drinks, maybe smoke some, and there’s gonna be a lot of people there, so we’ll probably play Spin the Bottle, beer pong, Never Have I Ever, stuff like that.”

“Cool,” I chirped. “I’m excited.”

“You should be,” Ray said. He pinched my cheek, telling, “We’re going to pop your party cherry.”

The guys laughed, and even Pete cheered up a little, peeking around at everyone. Frank pulled Ray in close, whispered something to him as well, to which Ray replied with, “Jesus, Iero, got it.”

Frank pointed a finger at Ray, asking, “You sure, Toro?”

Mocking a salute, Ray answered, “Sir yes Sir!”

Frank rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Everyone’s a fucking comedian.”

Notes

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