These Friday Night Lights [1/3]
Part Two | Part Three
They’re not even half way through second quarter in the first football game of the season and already Gerard’s spankies are riding up and the sparkles are making his ass itch like a bitch. Seriously, whose idea was it to put glitter on underwear anyway?
He sighed in exasperation and discreetly picked his wedgie before calling the next cheer.
“Alright fans, it’s half-time here at the first football game of the season and the Colonels lead by six going into the third quarter.” AV techie Ray Toro said, nodding down to the turf to Jon Walker who was taking photographs of the football players’ running back into the field house for their half-time pep talk.
“Let’s hope they can keep up that great defense in the second half Ray,” Gabe Saporta said into the microphone. “And now, here comes Colonel’s Pride marching band directed by drum majors Patrick Stump and Spencer Smith.”
“Alright girls, we need to be back in ten minutes. Not a minute later, got it?” Gerard told his fellow cheerleaders down on the field as they walked off the track once Gabe was finished speaking.
“Yes sir,” Ashlee saluted before walking off with Lyn-Z and Maja to the concession stand. Gerard just flipped them off and then turned in search for his brother Mikey. But not before giving Brendon Urie and William Beckett, wannabe cheerleaders, a dirty look as they came running towards him and walked right past them. He was so not in the mood to deal with them tonight.
After about five minutes of looking, he finally finds his brother brooding under the bleachers with Ryan Ross, the school’s top journalist, who just so happens to look like an on the run hobo.
“Mikey! What are you doing under the bleachers? Are you even watching the game? And why are you hanging out with him?” Gerard asked in a scandalized tone, flipping a piece of his hair back in a dramatic fashion, then looked pointedly at Ryan, who was muttering under his breath and staring intently at the black spiral bound notebook in his lap.
Mikey, who’s used to his brother’s diva act by now, just looked up at his brother with a blank look and a slight twitch of the right eyebrow. Gerard replied with the raise of his left eyebrow and finishes it off with a cock of the hip. Mikey’s mouth lifted a fraction of an inch on the left and Gerard whooped in his head and counted it as a win.
But, when Mikey still doesn’t answer he frowned and threw his hands in the air. “Fine, I’ll leave you to brood in peace then,” Gerard said, spinning on his heel and stalking off in the opposite direction to get out from under the bleachers.
Mikey counted to five in his head before he saw his brother whip around, his blue and gold skirt fluttering in the wind, and storm back towards him. Gerard huffed as he passes his brother and Ryan, who wasn’t even paying any attention to anything but his notebook, and stomped off angrily in the right direction.
All he heard was Mikey’s laughter following him out from under the bleachers.
The game resumed after the band walked off the field and the third quarter was just getting under way when Pete Wentz, the school’s mascot, finally shows up.
“Where in the hell have you been?” Gerard questioned in an irritated tone and throwing his pom-pomed hands in the air. “You missed over half of the game Wentz.”
Pete just smiled sheepishly, puts the head of the Colonel over his own head, and started yelling at the crowd to ‘get the fuck off your feet and scream motherfuckers!’
*
The James Wood Colonels won the game that night; 14 - 7 beating out the Beavers of Coastline by a touchdown in the last ten seconds. The lucky final score was made by senior running back Frank Iero.
Frank was one of the best football players on the team. He was also the shortest, but no one bothers to bring it up anymore, well next to lineman Bob Bryar. He was small, very energetic, super quick, and smiled through pain. But, with those aside, he was definitely one of the most difficult players to keep up with. He was extremely accident prone, making Greta’s job more complicated than it needs to be, annoys the hell out of everyone, especially Bob (boy does this kid has a death wish), and has one of the weakest immune systems in today’s youth. So their coach was always keeping tabs on his most manic player.
“Dude, I’m a vegetarian! Get that meat away from me you fucker,” Frank squealed, arms flailing while sliding away from his only friend on the team, Bob Bryar. Well, that is if you could call Bob a friend. Even though he does give dirty looks to anyone who gives Frank shit for being gay and kills those icky spiders, Frank still annoys the shit out of him. Every day actually; but they both still end up at Mack’s Diner after every football game together.
Bob just huffed out a laugh and stuffed the rest of his burger in his mouth, causing a drop of mustard to land in his beard. “Guess who I saw staring at you out on the field tonight Iero,”
“Who?” Frank questioned eagerly, bouncing in the booth slightly. He stopped when it started to make a weird high pitched squeaking noise and giggled childishly.
“That Jamia girl that’s in your Math class,” he paused for a second to drown his fries in ketchup and wipe the mustard off his chin. “Looks like someone’s got a crush,” Bob told him, wiggling his eyebrows and stuffing his mouth with ketchup drenched fries.
Frank visibly wilted a bit and lets out a quiet ‘oh’ at the news. He was hoping it would be Gerard Way, that male cheerleader that wears a skirt instead of pants; he has a bit of a mancrush on him.
Bob just thumped him on the shoulder with greasy fingers in mock sympathy.
Gerard and his fellow cheerleaders, including Brendon and William who were trailing behind them, walked in as Frank and Bob started throwing their fries at each other. He sneered at their childish behavior as they pass and brings his cheerleaders to a table on the other side of the diner. If he swayed his hips in a more dramatic fashion on their way to the booth, nobody said anything.
Everyone in the diner goes home around midnight, stuffed full of enough French fries and milkshakes to full the stomachs of some third world county, still buzzing about the game that night.
The weekend after the football game was basically a huge ass dud for Gerard. No awesome parties were happening, everyone cool enough to hang with Gerard were busy, and his parents were home all weekend so he couldn’t throw his own party at his own house. Luckily, Mikey didn’t have anywhere to go either; he was the only one keeping him sane. He let him do his hair in a bunch of different styles, changed his outfit a million times, and he even let Gerard do his make-up. Complete with tons of different colored glitter and lots of eyeliner.
“You know that you’re a complete and total fairy right,” Mikey told his brother who was, once again, brushing just about the whole jar of glitter all over his face. He was going to end up looking like a walking talking disco ball.
Gerard just hummed in agreement around the make-up brush between his lips and snapped at him to keep his head still or he was going to lose an eye.
*
“Dude, did you know that drum majors don’t have to know how to play the drums,” Pete asked Gabe at lunch on Monday. “Like, being able to play the drums has absolutely nothing to do with being a drum major. How fucked up was that shit?”
Gabe snorted into his strawberry jello. “You didn’t know that?”
Pete pouted, crossed his arms across his chest, and shook his head dejectedly. Gabe laughed. “Well, Patrick and Spencer play the drums and they’re drum majors,” he paused for a second to rub his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, and that guy last year with the beard and those tattoos.”
“Andy Mrotek?” Gabe asked, raising his left eyebrow.
Pete snapped his fingers and pointed at Gabe. “Yeah, that artist guy, he graduated last year; he plays the drums too.”
Gabe raised the other eyebrow, swallowing another spoonful of jello. “And is that supposed to mean something?”
“Well, yeah. It’s a fucking pattern dude,” Pete murmured, eyes wide. “What are the chances that all three of the drum majors I know, play the drums.”
“There’s that out of all the drum majors James Wood has had, you only know three.” Gabe started waving his spoon full of jello around getting all worked up and splatters the red gummy substance all over the table. “The fact that they all play the drums is just a really weird coincidence.”
“It isn’t just a coincidence Gabe!” Pete whispered franticly, brown eyes getting impossibly wider. “It’s like a fuckin’ conspiracy or some shit.”
“Whatever,” Gabe said dismissively while rolling his eyes. “And while we’re speaking of drum majors,” he paused to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively and make crude hand gestured, “Where’s your boy-toy at?”
Pete sagged in his seat, poking at the dirty napkin that was lying in front of his tray with a pout making its way across his face. “Band practice.”
“Since when?” Gabe asked finishing off his jello cup, setting it down on his tray next to his chocolate milk, and nodding at Ray who just walked out of the lunch line.
Pete huffed out indignant “I dunno”, then goes on to whine about how his life sucks, his hands waving all about and accidently hitting Ray in the face when he comes to sit down. “Oops,” He said sheepishly and smiled sweetly, going for the picture of innocence approach, at Ray as he glared and moved to sit by Gabe instead.
“Are we gonna tape next weeks episode of CSPN after school tomorrow?” Ray questioned once he sat down, opening up his milk carton.
“I think so, you said that you got Bob and Frank to-” Gabe’s answer trailed off as William Beckett sauntered out of the lunch line and passed the table they were sitting at. Ray shook his head, fro bouncing around from the movement and snapped his hands a few times in front of Gabe’s face to get his attention. “Whaa,”
“Dude, I think you’re drooling!” Pete shouted, laughter flowing throughout his words. Ray sighed, wishing he had better friends, and picked up his corndog to take a large bite.
“Am not,” Gabe muttered rubbing under his bottom lip just in case Pete was telling the truth. He was. Dammit. “Anyway…” He said turning to Ray, lacing his fingers together, and setting them on the table. “You did get Bob and Frank to agree for an interview right?”
Ray nodded and grinned sheepishly, “I told them that we could interview them after school today,”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “I guess that means we have no choice but to tape the next addition of CSPN after school then.”
“So, now that the nerdy part of our conversation is all settled,” Pete said after clearing his throat to get their attention back on him. “Are you going Ashlee’s party this weekend?”
“I was planning on it,” Gabe answered and tilted his head towards Ray. “You’re gonna come too right?”
Ray shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his tray, picking off the burnt pieces of corn bread off of his corndog, tendrils of his light brown curl falling in front of his face.
“Oh, come on. You gotta come!” Pete yelled with a smirk gracing his face. “You may actually get laid for once!” Both Gabe and Pete snickered noisily.
“I heard that big bad lineman, Bob is gonna be there,” Gabe teased, coming this close to pitching Ray’s cheeks like his grandmother used to do.
“I do not have a crush on Bob,” Ray muttered bitterly under his breath, a scarlet hue making its way across his cheekbones.
“You totally do!” Pete shrieked causing Gabe to snort spurting milk all over the table and making half of the cafeteria turn towards their table, including Bob.
Ray’s cheeks turned an even darker shade of red as he tried to hide underneath his fro. “Oh my god,” he murmured embarrassed. “I am so going to kill you in your sleep Pete.”
That statement just made him laugh harder.
*
The world, Gerard decided Monday at lunch, would be a better place if there was more glitter. He paused and tilts his head to the side imaging it. Glitter though, he muses, might wash away in the rain, but it would look pretty doing it. He sets down his fork, taps his chin in thought, and runs a hand through his hair.
He smiled then and laid his head on his head, thinking about all the sparkles running down off houses and trees. Blues and pinks sliding off the trees in the park, mixing in the street and meeting up with the greens and purples that are descending off the sidewalk. The yellows and oranges come next, followed by gold, silver, and red. All combining together like long lost friends, right before they hit the big plunge and end up dripping into the sewer.
He giggled at his glittery day dream and picked up his fork to stab a piece of lettuce out of his chicken salad.
Gerard loves glitter, he has always been very pro glitter; especially blue and gold glitter because it matches his cheer uniform. And he always has to match. He plans out his outfit two days before hand and makes sure that all his girls know what he was wearing so no one ever wears the same thing. There’s a situation he never wants to happen again; he shudders just thinking about it.
A few minutes later, he was shaken out of his thoughts by a burst of girly laughter coming from a nearby table. He sneers and looked up to glare at what he thought was a table full of freshman girls, but he was surprised to see Frank Iero, Bob Bryar, and some random black haired girl sitting at the table. Turned out that high pitched giggle was made by Frank and not freshman girls.
He really shouldn’t find such a girly laugh so damn adorable.
Jealously clawed at his insides as he watched Frank and that girl flirt right in front of him. The right side of his lip curled up in a snarl and he growled as he furiously stabbed at a cheery tomato lying innocently in the lettuce of his salad pretending it was that black haired girl’s head.
“Someone’s angry…” Ashlee sing-songed skipping over to his table and setting down her lunch tray across from Gerard; she raised an eyebrow at the heated glare he threw at her. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”
Gerard sighed; he doesn’t wanna talk about it. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbled giving one more fleeting glance towards Frank’s table, his eyes darken when he saw her touch the inside of Frank’s wrist and giggle like a school girl. Ashlee followed his eyes to the table he was looking at and giggled. He glowered at her again and flipped her off.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she paused to cover a hand over her mouth to stifle the burst of laughter that was threatening to escape. Gerard whined childishly, widening his eyes so large they’re almost cartoonish in size and pouts, lips full and plump and pink. Ashlee cooed. “You are too cute. Seriously, how are you real?”
Gerard blushed a bit and flapped his hands. “Ashlee…” he complained tucking a piece of his jet black hair behind his ear.
“Gerard…” she drawled picking up the peanut butter and jelly sandwich off of her plate and taking a bite. He huffed, rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms across his chest, pout still in place. “Why don’t you just talk to him?” she asked, watching as he pathetically alternates between making puppy eyes at Frank and glaring daggers at the girl sitting across from him.
He stopped glowering at the poor girl long enough to laugh his signature honking laugh and mumble a sarcastic ‘yeah right’ to Ashlee before going back to making sad lovey-dovey doe eyes at Frank.
Ashlee laughed, her eyes shining with mirth, her cheeks turning a rosy red color, and leaned across the table to ruffle Gerard’s hair. He swatted at her irritably in retaliation. “You know what,” she said pushing her tray further on the table and swinging her bag on her shoulder. “Fine.” Once she gets up from the table and paused dramatically. “I’ll go talk to him for you.” She told him in a tone of defiance, then turned on her heel, strawberry blonde hair whipping around her face and stomped off towards Frank’s table.
Oh shit. “Oh shit,” Gerard muttered, his hazel eyes widening as he stands up from the table to go stop his meddling friend, but it’s too late; Ashlee was already making room for herself next to the black haired girl.
He sat down embarrassed after half of the lunch room turned his way and he feels his face flush bright red as everyone sitting at Frank’s table turned towards him to see where the fiery red head came from. Gerard mumbled something incoherently under his breath, followed by a lot of soft cursing with Ashlee’s name mixed in, dropped his head to his chest, and tried to hide behind the curtain of black hair that falls in front of his eyes.
The next few minutes just seem to drag along extremely slowly for Gerard. The black haired boy has been sitting alone at the table, staring intently at his empty tray while trying to come up the best way to hide Ashlee’s body. He knew all those CSI re-runs would come in handy one day.
“Why so glum chum?” Gerard let out a loud, high pitched mouse squeak and nearly fell out of his seat at the puff of warm air that brushes across his cheek.
“Oh my god Lyn,” he said grabbing his chest in an over dramatic fashion. “Give a man a heart attack why don’t ya.”
The girl in question just giggled and sat down at the lunch table, her pigtails wagging back and forth across her rosy cheeks as she walked.
“So, what’s up with my favorite fairy today?” The glare she got in return was fierce enough to melt faces, or so Gerard thought. Lindsay laughed so hard she snorted milk out of her nose.
It wasn’t until Gerard was already half way to his way to his locker after the lunch bell rang that he realized he must have said that out loud. “Fuck.”
*
“Jonathan Jacob Walker, if you don’t get that camera out of my face right now,” Spencer hissed at his friend. “I swear I’ll,”
“You’ll what?” Jon taunted a smirk making its way across his bearded face and snapped another picture of Spencer’s very annoyed face. “Sic Ryan on me?” he chuckled loudly and started prancing around in a circle pretending to be Spencer’s best friend Ryan.
Spencer growled in reply, an angry glare set in stone on his face, and got up from his position under the tree where him and Jon were studying.
“Oh, come on Spencer. I was just kidding!” Jon yelled at his friend’s retreating back. All he got in response was the finger. “Shit.” He mumbled unhappily as he takes off after Spencer, his flip flops making that annoying click-click-clicking noise as they hit the ground.
As he was getting ready to grab Spencer’s shoulder to stop him, the bell signaling study hall was over rung out causing a stampede of kids to rush to get to class on time. “Dammit,” Jon muttered, as he lost Spencer in the sea of charging students.
Jon sighed and hung his head, his bangs falling carefully into his chocolate brown eyes. “Hey Jon!” a voice yelled over the chattering of students. He turned around and smiled a bit as he sees his partner in crime Tom was jogging towards him, his camera banging against his chest as he runs.
“Hey Tom,” Jon greeted doing a complicated hand shake, fist bump, man hug, slap the back thing that the jocks are always doing when they see each other.
“Ya got those pictures from the game on Friday?” Tom asked walking with Jon inside the doors to the school. Jon nodded his head. “Good, cause the journalism students needs a few to put in this week’s newspaper.”
“Alright, I’ll bring them go give them my memory card before I go to class,” Jon said taking his camera off his neck and popping the memory card out of the side. “Thanks Tom, I’ll see ya later.”
His blonde friend laughed and waved his hand above his head in goodbye as he turned away walking towards his last block class. Jon shook his head and followed suit, walking down the hallway and coming to a stop when he makes his way to room 321 at the end of the hallway.
Before he knocked on the door he switched his camera to his other hand and stuck the memory card between his slightly coffee stained teeth. He smiled around the small chip in his mouth when the door started to open only to get a glimpse of mousy brown hair and colored swirls around brown eyes before it promptly shuts in his face.
“Shit,” he mumbled, almost spitting out the card between his lips. Huffing, he pulled the piece of plastic out from his mouth and cracks his neck. “Ryan! Open this door; I got the pictures you wanted from the game on Friday!”
“Go away!” a muffled voice yelled through the closed door. It sounded oddly like Spencer Smith.
“Spencer! Come on, I was joking!” Jon whined stomping his foot like a two year old. When he didn’t get a reply, he bangs on the door even harder evoking a few choice cuss words and the shuffling of feet to sound from the other side of the door.
He smiled brightly when the door finally opens fully. “Gimme the card and get on your way,” Ryan said in a monotone making a grabby motion with his right hand.
Jon grin fades as he forks over the memory card. He knows that he was not going to win this fight today. “Thank you for your time,” the journalist said in a snarky tone, pulling down his vest. “Now scram.” A voice called from inside the room. Ryan smirks and tips his fedora in goodbye as he shoos Jon away from the door and slamming it shut.
“I was only kidding,” Jon mumbled to himself walking dejectedly down the hallway to his English class. As he was just getting ready to open the door to the room, the late bell rings. He scowls and curses under his breath as he walked in late to his last class of the day.
*
Frank was seriously getting tired of this Jamia girl. She has been following him around all day, sitting with him and Bob at lunch, and made sure to sit by him in every class they have together. Bob thinks it was hilarious; Frank on the other hand, did not.
Ever since lunch, when Ashlee told him bluntly to get off his ass and ask Gerard out, he has been trying to make his move on Gerard, but Jamia keeps getting in the way.
He was seriously this close to asking Gerard to coffee on Saturday when, out of the blue, she literally popped up in between them and asked Frank if he wanted to go to a movie on Saturday; then promptly dropped all of her books on the floor. Frank, being the nice boy that he was (Momma Iero taught him well), told her he would love to and helped her pick up her books. He smiled and nodded at her courteously before looking back up quickly to finish asking Gerard out; only to get hit in the face with Gerard’s blue and gold skirt as he spun on his heel and stomped off.
“It really isn’t that funny Bob,” Frank complained rubbing his reddening cheek where Gerard’s skirt slapped him.
“Dude, you got slapped in the face by a skirt. I think I have the right to laugh,” Bob said laughter floating through his voice. Frank whined and mumbled under his breath about really sucky friends and creepy stalker chicks. Bob just keeps laughing, the fucker.
“Hey Frankie!” a voice called from down the hall. Frank visibly froze, hunched his shoulders, and sped up his walk to get out of the school quicker. “Frankie wait up!”
“No, no, no,” Frank muttered, nearly jogging to his freedom. “Please no, make her go away Bob.” He whispered frantically to his blonde friend. He takes a chance to look over his shoulder to and sees a black blob of hair pushing through throngs of people, running to catch up with him. Oh shit. “Oh shit.”
Bob chuckled; red blotches high on his cheeks shinning with mirth and grabs Frank’s shoulder to stop him. “I’ll stop this, once and for all,” he whispered to Frank, he then turned and a polite grin making its way across his face. “Hey Jamia, how are you today?”
The black haired girl stopped, nearly out of breath, in front of the pair and smiled brightly. “I’m fine Bob, how are you?” she replied, not looking at Bob, but at the brown haired tattooed boy he was holding.
“I’m good. So, Frankie here told me about the movie you guys are going to go to this weekend,” Bob started, nodding to the guy in question, who just smiled half-heartedly.
Jamia’s face nearly ripped in half by the wide grin that spread across her features. “Yep, I was thinking that new horror movie that just came out,” she said, rocking back in forth on her heels in excitement. “I know how much you like horror movies Frank.”
“He sure does love his scary movies,” Bob spoke smirking down at Frank. “But, he also enjoys chick flicks. Those romantic comedies and heart breaking love stories, he absolutely adores them.” The girl’s smile seemed to get even brighter at that statement. Frank, on the other hand, elbowed Bob in the ribs harshly. He didn’t even blink.
“Me too!” she yelled, giggling at Frank’s shocked face and Bob’s very un-amused one. “We can go see something else if you’d like Frank.”
Bob snorted, halfway between amused and annoyed that this girl was not getting it. “Jamia, I’m sorry to break it to ya, but Frank is gay,” All he gets from her was a vaguely confused face. He sighed and rubbed his beard. “You know gay. A homosexual, pillow biter, fairy, fudge packer, pansy…”
“That’s enough Bob!” Frank screamed, a blush spreading across his pudgy cheeks while trying, and failing to tug his arm out of the blonde’s strong hold.
Bob looked over at Frank with an apologetic look. “I might have gotten a bit carried away there. Sorry Frank,” he said, giving him a half-smile.
“I forgive you,” Frank mumbled, yanking his arm free, and crossing his arms protectively over his chest. Bob thumped him on the back in remorse and looked back at Jamia; who looked like she was about to cry.
“You could have just said no if you didn’t want to go out with me Frank,” she huffed out angrily, tossing her hair and stomping off.
“I don’t think she got it Bob,” Frank said shaking his head in a confused manner causing a bit of his fringe to fall in front of his charcoal lined hazel eyes.
“I don’t think she did either Frank,” Bob replied, putting his arm around Frank’s shoulders and guiding him out of the school. “Whatcha say we get some big juicy burgers, I’m starved.” Frank nodded his head in agreement and let himself be pulled out of the school, and then out towards the parking lot.
About three minutes later, “Wait a second, I don’t eat meat you douche!” rung out across campus, followed closely by a manly snort.
*
“And he was like ‘Pete if you don’t sit down right now, I’m going to have to give you a detention.’ And I was like, ‘Fine, Mr. Mace give me a detention I don’t care. I’m just exercising my right to free speech.’” Pete stopped to catch his breath then continued, “And then he was like,”
“Pete,” Gabe said exasperatedly, stopping in the middle of the hallway to cover his ears with his hands.
“What?” he asked innocently, dropping his arms to his sides from where they were gesturing wildly and started to drag his boyfriend towards the parking lot.
“I think he wants you to stop talking,” Ray added pulling his keys from his pocket and spinning them on his finger. At Pete’s affronted look; he chuckled, waved goodbye to the whole group and walked off to his car to go home.
Pete just huffed in annoyance and put his hands on his hips. “How rude.”
Patrick, his drum major boyfriend, rolled his brown eyes and yanked lightly on the hand he was holding. “Come on Pete, let’s go,” Patrick said snapping his keys from his belt loop and stalking off towards his beaten down blue Sedan.
Before Pete let’s himself get dragged off by his boyfriend he turned around to Gabe and yelled, “I’ll finish telling you my story tomorrow Gabe,” with a smile on his face.
Patrick rolled his eyes playfully. “You know he’ll probably not be at school tomorrow now,” Pete just smiled and nodded his head in agreement. Patrick laughed and pushes Pete’s back. “Just get in the car you goof.”
The ride to Pete’s house was pretty much silent, except for the rock music playing softly out of his speakers; that was until they pass Ashlee’s house.
“We’re going to Ashlee’s party this weekend right?” Pete asked his boyfriend as they turn down his street.
“Do we have to?” Patrick whined, keeping his eyes on the road and turning the steering wheel to the right slightly to pull into the driveway. When he doesn’t get an answer he puts the Sedan in park, turned off the engine and turned to Pete’s pouting face. The strawberry blonde’s resolve crumbles, he can never resist that face. “I guess we can go, if it means that much to you.”
Pete grinned brightly and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek lovingly. “You won’t regret it, I promise Patty Cakes,” he said enthusiastically, clapping his hand, and bouncing in his seat.
“I already am,” Patrick mumbled to himself, watching as his boyfriend skips happily up the path to his house and up the front steps before turning around to blow him a kiss. “I already am.”
*
“Alright ladies, I want ya’ll to start stretching!” Coach Schechter screamed at his players, which was followed by a lot of annoyed grumbling as the guys made their way tiredly to the field and started to stretch out their muscles.
“Jumping jacks!” Bob yelled at his teammates once they were all done stretching. Starting with the three captains, everyone on the field started to do their jumping jacks shouting out every number they did.
“Forty eight, forty nine, fifty!” the players cried as they finished their jumping jacks.
“Push ups!” Frank shouted getting down on the ground and pushing his body up into the push up position. Then, he started his team off on their warm ups and dropped his nose to the ground. After staying there for a few seconds he lifts his body back up and yelled, “One!”
“Backs straight boys! I wanna see your noses touching the dirt!” Coach said heatedly pacing in front of his five rows of players. “You are not a cheerleader Trohman! You’re my quarter back! Get up off your knees!”
“Yes sir!” Joe shouted from under the big puff of hair coming out of his helmet and pushed up off his knees.
After a few more warm ups, Coach Schechter really started practice by getting his players doing their respective drills by splitting them up into his offensive and defensive lines. After about twenty minutes of drills he then moved them off to the side and went over the new plays that he came up with at the last game.
Off on the sideline he had set up a white board that had a bunch of blue and red X’s and black lines running all across the board. The coach made his players take a knee, helmets clacking against their aching knees, making sure they all could see what he had written on the board. Then, he pulled out a pointer stick, slapped it across the board and said, “Alright boys, here’s what I came up with.”
*
“Oh my god. I can’t feel my legs Bob,” Frank whined dragging his feet across the pavement, his bag slung carelessly across the front of his chest and digging into his pecs, to the parking lot.
Bob stopped and turned just gave him this ‘okay, and what do you want me to do about it’ look accompanied by a raised eyebrow. When Frank didn’t say anything else, Bob turned forward again and started walking away from his pouting friend, grumbling under his breath. Frank grinned mischievously, his hazel eyes shining with mirth and pounced on an unsuspecting Bob’s back with a positively gleeful whoop.
“Geez, for a little guy you sure are a fuckin’ fat ass,” Bob groaned slumping forward to keep his balance.
“Hey, don’t be insulting my height bitch,” Frank chirped kicking Bob lightly in the side. Bob growled but kept his comments to himself. “Onward, my big blonde stead!” Frank yelled with a smirk, pointing towards his black Jeep Cherokee and giving Bob one more gentle kick to the side.
Frank fell to the ground with a loud ‘Oaf’, gravel dust flying up all around his body making him cough. Bob just laughed and kept on walking. “Bobert, why’d ya do that?” Frank moaned rubbing his non-existent butt, getting up off the ground carefully.
“I’m nobody’s fuckin’ stead,” Bob answered sticking up his middle finger before jumping into his SUV and speeding off.
Part Two
They’re not even half way through second quarter in the first football game of the season and already Gerard’s spankies are riding up and the sparkles are making his ass itch like a bitch. Seriously, whose idea was it to put glitter on underwear anyway?
He sighed in exasperation and discreetly picked his wedgie before calling the next cheer.
“Alright fans, it’s half-time here at the first football game of the season and the Colonels lead by six going into the third quarter.” AV techie Ray Toro said, nodding down to the turf to Jon Walker who was taking photographs of the football players’ running back into the field house for their half-time pep talk.
“Let’s hope they can keep up that great defense in the second half Ray,” Gabe Saporta said into the microphone. “And now, here comes Colonel’s Pride marching band directed by drum majors Patrick Stump and Spencer Smith.”
“Alright girls, we need to be back in ten minutes. Not a minute later, got it?” Gerard told his fellow cheerleaders down on the field as they walked off the track once Gabe was finished speaking.
“Yes sir,” Ashlee saluted before walking off with Lyn-Z and Maja to the concession stand. Gerard just flipped them off and then turned in search for his brother Mikey. But not before giving Brendon Urie and William Beckett, wannabe cheerleaders, a dirty look as they came running towards him and walked right past them. He was so not in the mood to deal with them tonight.
After about five minutes of looking, he finally finds his brother brooding under the bleachers with Ryan Ross, the school’s top journalist, who just so happens to look like an on the run hobo.
“Mikey! What are you doing under the bleachers? Are you even watching the game? And why are you hanging out with him?” Gerard asked in a scandalized tone, flipping a piece of his hair back in a dramatic fashion, then looked pointedly at Ryan, who was muttering under his breath and staring intently at the black spiral bound notebook in his lap.
Mikey, who’s used to his brother’s diva act by now, just looked up at his brother with a blank look and a slight twitch of the right eyebrow. Gerard replied with the raise of his left eyebrow and finishes it off with a cock of the hip. Mikey’s mouth lifted a fraction of an inch on the left and Gerard whooped in his head and counted it as a win.
But, when Mikey still doesn’t answer he frowned and threw his hands in the air. “Fine, I’ll leave you to brood in peace then,” Gerard said, spinning on his heel and stalking off in the opposite direction to get out from under the bleachers.
Mikey counted to five in his head before he saw his brother whip around, his blue and gold skirt fluttering in the wind, and storm back towards him. Gerard huffed as he passes his brother and Ryan, who wasn’t even paying any attention to anything but his notebook, and stomped off angrily in the right direction.
All he heard was Mikey’s laughter following him out from under the bleachers.
The game resumed after the band walked off the field and the third quarter was just getting under way when Pete Wentz, the school’s mascot, finally shows up.
“Where in the hell have you been?” Gerard questioned in an irritated tone and throwing his pom-pomed hands in the air. “You missed over half of the game Wentz.”
Pete just smiled sheepishly, puts the head of the Colonel over his own head, and started yelling at the crowd to ‘get the fuck off your feet and scream motherfuckers!’
*
The James Wood Colonels won the game that night; 14 - 7 beating out the Beavers of Coastline by a touchdown in the last ten seconds. The lucky final score was made by senior running back Frank Iero.
Frank was one of the best football players on the team. He was also the shortest, but no one bothers to bring it up anymore, well next to lineman Bob Bryar. He was small, very energetic, super quick, and smiled through pain. But, with those aside, he was definitely one of the most difficult players to keep up with. He was extremely accident prone, making Greta’s job more complicated than it needs to be, annoys the hell out of everyone, especially Bob (boy does this kid has a death wish), and has one of the weakest immune systems in today’s youth. So their coach was always keeping tabs on his most manic player.
“Dude, I’m a vegetarian! Get that meat away from me you fucker,” Frank squealed, arms flailing while sliding away from his only friend on the team, Bob Bryar. Well, that is if you could call Bob a friend. Even though he does give dirty looks to anyone who gives Frank shit for being gay and kills those icky spiders, Frank still annoys the shit out of him. Every day actually; but they both still end up at Mack’s Diner after every football game together.
Bob just huffed out a laugh and stuffed the rest of his burger in his mouth, causing a drop of mustard to land in his beard. “Guess who I saw staring at you out on the field tonight Iero,”
“Who?” Frank questioned eagerly, bouncing in the booth slightly. He stopped when it started to make a weird high pitched squeaking noise and giggled childishly.
“That Jamia girl that’s in your Math class,” he paused for a second to drown his fries in ketchup and wipe the mustard off his chin. “Looks like someone’s got a crush,” Bob told him, wiggling his eyebrows and stuffing his mouth with ketchup drenched fries.
Frank visibly wilted a bit and lets out a quiet ‘oh’ at the news. He was hoping it would be Gerard Way, that male cheerleader that wears a skirt instead of pants; he has a bit of a mancrush on him.
Bob just thumped him on the shoulder with greasy fingers in mock sympathy.
Gerard and his fellow cheerleaders, including Brendon and William who were trailing behind them, walked in as Frank and Bob started throwing their fries at each other. He sneered at their childish behavior as they pass and brings his cheerleaders to a table on the other side of the diner. If he swayed his hips in a more dramatic fashion on their way to the booth, nobody said anything.
Everyone in the diner goes home around midnight, stuffed full of enough French fries and milkshakes to full the stomachs of some third world county, still buzzing about the game that night.
The weekend after the football game was basically a huge ass dud for Gerard. No awesome parties were happening, everyone cool enough to hang with Gerard were busy, and his parents were home all weekend so he couldn’t throw his own party at his own house. Luckily, Mikey didn’t have anywhere to go either; he was the only one keeping him sane. He let him do his hair in a bunch of different styles, changed his outfit a million times, and he even let Gerard do his make-up. Complete with tons of different colored glitter and lots of eyeliner.
“You know that you’re a complete and total fairy right,” Mikey told his brother who was, once again, brushing just about the whole jar of glitter all over his face. He was going to end up looking like a walking talking disco ball.
Gerard just hummed in agreement around the make-up brush between his lips and snapped at him to keep his head still or he was going to lose an eye.
*
“Dude, did you know that drum majors don’t have to know how to play the drums,” Pete asked Gabe at lunch on Monday. “Like, being able to play the drums has absolutely nothing to do with being a drum major. How fucked up was that shit?”
Gabe snorted into his strawberry jello. “You didn’t know that?”
Pete pouted, crossed his arms across his chest, and shook his head dejectedly. Gabe laughed. “Well, Patrick and Spencer play the drums and they’re drum majors,” he paused for a second to rub his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, and that guy last year with the beard and those tattoos.”
“Andy Mrotek?” Gabe asked, raising his left eyebrow.
Pete snapped his fingers and pointed at Gabe. “Yeah, that artist guy, he graduated last year; he plays the drums too.”
Gabe raised the other eyebrow, swallowing another spoonful of jello. “And is that supposed to mean something?”
“Well, yeah. It’s a fucking pattern dude,” Pete murmured, eyes wide. “What are the chances that all three of the drum majors I know, play the drums.”
“There’s that out of all the drum majors James Wood has had, you only know three.” Gabe started waving his spoon full of jello around getting all worked up and splatters the red gummy substance all over the table. “The fact that they all play the drums is just a really weird coincidence.”
“It isn’t just a coincidence Gabe!” Pete whispered franticly, brown eyes getting impossibly wider. “It’s like a fuckin’ conspiracy or some shit.”
“Whatever,” Gabe said dismissively while rolling his eyes. “And while we’re speaking of drum majors,” he paused to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively and make crude hand gestured, “Where’s your boy-toy at?”
Pete sagged in his seat, poking at the dirty napkin that was lying in front of his tray with a pout making its way across his face. “Band practice.”
“Since when?” Gabe asked finishing off his jello cup, setting it down on his tray next to his chocolate milk, and nodding at Ray who just walked out of the lunch line.
Pete huffed out indignant “I dunno”, then goes on to whine about how his life sucks, his hands waving all about and accidently hitting Ray in the face when he comes to sit down. “Oops,” He said sheepishly and smiled sweetly, going for the picture of innocence approach, at Ray as he glared and moved to sit by Gabe instead.
“Are we gonna tape next weeks episode of CSPN after school tomorrow?” Ray questioned once he sat down, opening up his milk carton.
“I think so, you said that you got Bob and Frank to-” Gabe’s answer trailed off as William Beckett sauntered out of the lunch line and passed the table they were sitting at. Ray shook his head, fro bouncing around from the movement and snapped his hands a few times in front of Gabe’s face to get his attention. “Whaa,”
“Dude, I think you’re drooling!” Pete shouted, laughter flowing throughout his words. Ray sighed, wishing he had better friends, and picked up his corndog to take a large bite.
“Am not,” Gabe muttered rubbing under his bottom lip just in case Pete was telling the truth. He was. Dammit. “Anyway…” He said turning to Ray, lacing his fingers together, and setting them on the table. “You did get Bob and Frank to agree for an interview right?”
Ray nodded and grinned sheepishly, “I told them that we could interview them after school today,”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “I guess that means we have no choice but to tape the next addition of CSPN after school then.”
“So, now that the nerdy part of our conversation is all settled,” Pete said after clearing his throat to get their attention back on him. “Are you going Ashlee’s party this weekend?”
“I was planning on it,” Gabe answered and tilted his head towards Ray. “You’re gonna come too right?”
Ray shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his tray, picking off the burnt pieces of corn bread off of his corndog, tendrils of his light brown curl falling in front of his face.
“Oh, come on. You gotta come!” Pete yelled with a smirk gracing his face. “You may actually get laid for once!” Both Gabe and Pete snickered noisily.
“I heard that big bad lineman, Bob is gonna be there,” Gabe teased, coming this close to pitching Ray’s cheeks like his grandmother used to do.
“I do not have a crush on Bob,” Ray muttered bitterly under his breath, a scarlet hue making its way across his cheekbones.
“You totally do!” Pete shrieked causing Gabe to snort spurting milk all over the table and making half of the cafeteria turn towards their table, including Bob.
Ray’s cheeks turned an even darker shade of red as he tried to hide underneath his fro. “Oh my god,” he murmured embarrassed. “I am so going to kill you in your sleep Pete.”
That statement just made him laugh harder.
*
The world, Gerard decided Monday at lunch, would be a better place if there was more glitter. He paused and tilts his head to the side imaging it. Glitter though, he muses, might wash away in the rain, but it would look pretty doing it. He sets down his fork, taps his chin in thought, and runs a hand through his hair.
He smiled then and laid his head on his head, thinking about all the sparkles running down off houses and trees. Blues and pinks sliding off the trees in the park, mixing in the street and meeting up with the greens and purples that are descending off the sidewalk. The yellows and oranges come next, followed by gold, silver, and red. All combining together like long lost friends, right before they hit the big plunge and end up dripping into the sewer.
He giggled at his glittery day dream and picked up his fork to stab a piece of lettuce out of his chicken salad.
Gerard loves glitter, he has always been very pro glitter; especially blue and gold glitter because it matches his cheer uniform. And he always has to match. He plans out his outfit two days before hand and makes sure that all his girls know what he was wearing so no one ever wears the same thing. There’s a situation he never wants to happen again; he shudders just thinking about it.
A few minutes later, he was shaken out of his thoughts by a burst of girly laughter coming from a nearby table. He sneers and looked up to glare at what he thought was a table full of freshman girls, but he was surprised to see Frank Iero, Bob Bryar, and some random black haired girl sitting at the table. Turned out that high pitched giggle was made by Frank and not freshman girls.
He really shouldn’t find such a girly laugh so damn adorable.
Jealously clawed at his insides as he watched Frank and that girl flirt right in front of him. The right side of his lip curled up in a snarl and he growled as he furiously stabbed at a cheery tomato lying innocently in the lettuce of his salad pretending it was that black haired girl’s head.
“Someone’s angry…” Ashlee sing-songed skipping over to his table and setting down her lunch tray across from Gerard; she raised an eyebrow at the heated glare he threw at her. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”
Gerard sighed; he doesn’t wanna talk about it. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbled giving one more fleeting glance towards Frank’s table, his eyes darken when he saw her touch the inside of Frank’s wrist and giggle like a school girl. Ashlee followed his eyes to the table he was looking at and giggled. He glowered at her again and flipped her off.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she paused to cover a hand over her mouth to stifle the burst of laughter that was threatening to escape. Gerard whined childishly, widening his eyes so large they’re almost cartoonish in size and pouts, lips full and plump and pink. Ashlee cooed. “You are too cute. Seriously, how are you real?”
Gerard blushed a bit and flapped his hands. “Ashlee…” he complained tucking a piece of his jet black hair behind his ear.
“Gerard…” she drawled picking up the peanut butter and jelly sandwich off of her plate and taking a bite. He huffed, rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms across his chest, pout still in place. “Why don’t you just talk to him?” she asked, watching as he pathetically alternates between making puppy eyes at Frank and glaring daggers at the girl sitting across from him.
He stopped glowering at the poor girl long enough to laugh his signature honking laugh and mumble a sarcastic ‘yeah right’ to Ashlee before going back to making sad lovey-dovey doe eyes at Frank.
Ashlee laughed, her eyes shining with mirth, her cheeks turning a rosy red color, and leaned across the table to ruffle Gerard’s hair. He swatted at her irritably in retaliation. “You know what,” she said pushing her tray further on the table and swinging her bag on her shoulder. “Fine.” Once she gets up from the table and paused dramatically. “I’ll go talk to him for you.” She told him in a tone of defiance, then turned on her heel, strawberry blonde hair whipping around her face and stomped off towards Frank’s table.
Oh shit. “Oh shit,” Gerard muttered, his hazel eyes widening as he stands up from the table to go stop his meddling friend, but it’s too late; Ashlee was already making room for herself next to the black haired girl.
He sat down embarrassed after half of the lunch room turned his way and he feels his face flush bright red as everyone sitting at Frank’s table turned towards him to see where the fiery red head came from. Gerard mumbled something incoherently under his breath, followed by a lot of soft cursing with Ashlee’s name mixed in, dropped his head to his chest, and tried to hide behind the curtain of black hair that falls in front of his eyes.
The next few minutes just seem to drag along extremely slowly for Gerard. The black haired boy has been sitting alone at the table, staring intently at his empty tray while trying to come up the best way to hide Ashlee’s body. He knew all those CSI re-runs would come in handy one day.
“Why so glum chum?” Gerard let out a loud, high pitched mouse squeak and nearly fell out of his seat at the puff of warm air that brushes across his cheek.
“Oh my god Lyn,” he said grabbing his chest in an over dramatic fashion. “Give a man a heart attack why don’t ya.”
The girl in question just giggled and sat down at the lunch table, her pigtails wagging back and forth across her rosy cheeks as she walked.
“So, what’s up with my favorite fairy today?” The glare she got in return was fierce enough to melt faces, or so Gerard thought. Lindsay laughed so hard she snorted milk out of her nose.
It wasn’t until Gerard was already half way to his way to his locker after the lunch bell rang that he realized he must have said that out loud. “Fuck.”
*
“Jonathan Jacob Walker, if you don’t get that camera out of my face right now,” Spencer hissed at his friend. “I swear I’ll,”
“You’ll what?” Jon taunted a smirk making its way across his bearded face and snapped another picture of Spencer’s very annoyed face. “Sic Ryan on me?” he chuckled loudly and started prancing around in a circle pretending to be Spencer’s best friend Ryan.
Spencer growled in reply, an angry glare set in stone on his face, and got up from his position under the tree where him and Jon were studying.
“Oh, come on Spencer. I was just kidding!” Jon yelled at his friend’s retreating back. All he got in response was the finger. “Shit.” He mumbled unhappily as he takes off after Spencer, his flip flops making that annoying click-click-clicking noise as they hit the ground.
As he was getting ready to grab Spencer’s shoulder to stop him, the bell signaling study hall was over rung out causing a stampede of kids to rush to get to class on time. “Dammit,” Jon muttered, as he lost Spencer in the sea of charging students.
Jon sighed and hung his head, his bangs falling carefully into his chocolate brown eyes. “Hey Jon!” a voice yelled over the chattering of students. He turned around and smiled a bit as he sees his partner in crime Tom was jogging towards him, his camera banging against his chest as he runs.
“Hey Tom,” Jon greeted doing a complicated hand shake, fist bump, man hug, slap the back thing that the jocks are always doing when they see each other.
“Ya got those pictures from the game on Friday?” Tom asked walking with Jon inside the doors to the school. Jon nodded his head. “Good, cause the journalism students needs a few to put in this week’s newspaper.”
“Alright, I’ll bring them go give them my memory card before I go to class,” Jon said taking his camera off his neck and popping the memory card out of the side. “Thanks Tom, I’ll see ya later.”
His blonde friend laughed and waved his hand above his head in goodbye as he turned away walking towards his last block class. Jon shook his head and followed suit, walking down the hallway and coming to a stop when he makes his way to room 321 at the end of the hallway.
Before he knocked on the door he switched his camera to his other hand and stuck the memory card between his slightly coffee stained teeth. He smiled around the small chip in his mouth when the door started to open only to get a glimpse of mousy brown hair and colored swirls around brown eyes before it promptly shuts in his face.
“Shit,” he mumbled, almost spitting out the card between his lips. Huffing, he pulled the piece of plastic out from his mouth and cracks his neck. “Ryan! Open this door; I got the pictures you wanted from the game on Friday!”
“Go away!” a muffled voice yelled through the closed door. It sounded oddly like Spencer Smith.
“Spencer! Come on, I was joking!” Jon whined stomping his foot like a two year old. When he didn’t get a reply, he bangs on the door even harder evoking a few choice cuss words and the shuffling of feet to sound from the other side of the door.
He smiled brightly when the door finally opens fully. “Gimme the card and get on your way,” Ryan said in a monotone making a grabby motion with his right hand.
Jon grin fades as he forks over the memory card. He knows that he was not going to win this fight today. “Thank you for your time,” the journalist said in a snarky tone, pulling down his vest. “Now scram.” A voice called from inside the room. Ryan smirks and tips his fedora in goodbye as he shoos Jon away from the door and slamming it shut.
“I was only kidding,” Jon mumbled to himself walking dejectedly down the hallway to his English class. As he was just getting ready to open the door to the room, the late bell rings. He scowls and curses under his breath as he walked in late to his last class of the day.
*
Frank was seriously getting tired of this Jamia girl. She has been following him around all day, sitting with him and Bob at lunch, and made sure to sit by him in every class they have together. Bob thinks it was hilarious; Frank on the other hand, did not.
Ever since lunch, when Ashlee told him bluntly to get off his ass and ask Gerard out, he has been trying to make his move on Gerard, but Jamia keeps getting in the way.
He was seriously this close to asking Gerard to coffee on Saturday when, out of the blue, she literally popped up in between them and asked Frank if he wanted to go to a movie on Saturday; then promptly dropped all of her books on the floor. Frank, being the nice boy that he was (Momma Iero taught him well), told her he would love to and helped her pick up her books. He smiled and nodded at her courteously before looking back up quickly to finish asking Gerard out; only to get hit in the face with Gerard’s blue and gold skirt as he spun on his heel and stomped off.
“It really isn’t that funny Bob,” Frank complained rubbing his reddening cheek where Gerard’s skirt slapped him.
“Dude, you got slapped in the face by a skirt. I think I have the right to laugh,” Bob said laughter floating through his voice. Frank whined and mumbled under his breath about really sucky friends and creepy stalker chicks. Bob just keeps laughing, the fucker.
“Hey Frankie!” a voice called from down the hall. Frank visibly froze, hunched his shoulders, and sped up his walk to get out of the school quicker. “Frankie wait up!”
“No, no, no,” Frank muttered, nearly jogging to his freedom. “Please no, make her go away Bob.” He whispered frantically to his blonde friend. He takes a chance to look over his shoulder to and sees a black blob of hair pushing through throngs of people, running to catch up with him. Oh shit. “Oh shit.”
Bob chuckled; red blotches high on his cheeks shinning with mirth and grabs Frank’s shoulder to stop him. “I’ll stop this, once and for all,” he whispered to Frank, he then turned and a polite grin making its way across his face. “Hey Jamia, how are you today?”
The black haired girl stopped, nearly out of breath, in front of the pair and smiled brightly. “I’m fine Bob, how are you?” she replied, not looking at Bob, but at the brown haired tattooed boy he was holding.
“I’m good. So, Frankie here told me about the movie you guys are going to go to this weekend,” Bob started, nodding to the guy in question, who just smiled half-heartedly.
Jamia’s face nearly ripped in half by the wide grin that spread across her features. “Yep, I was thinking that new horror movie that just came out,” she said, rocking back in forth on her heels in excitement. “I know how much you like horror movies Frank.”
“He sure does love his scary movies,” Bob spoke smirking down at Frank. “But, he also enjoys chick flicks. Those romantic comedies and heart breaking love stories, he absolutely adores them.” The girl’s smile seemed to get even brighter at that statement. Frank, on the other hand, elbowed Bob in the ribs harshly. He didn’t even blink.
“Me too!” she yelled, giggling at Frank’s shocked face and Bob’s very un-amused one. “We can go see something else if you’d like Frank.”
Bob snorted, halfway between amused and annoyed that this girl was not getting it. “Jamia, I’m sorry to break it to ya, but Frank is gay,” All he gets from her was a vaguely confused face. He sighed and rubbed his beard. “You know gay. A homosexual, pillow biter, fairy, fudge packer, pansy…”
“That’s enough Bob!” Frank screamed, a blush spreading across his pudgy cheeks while trying, and failing to tug his arm out of the blonde’s strong hold.
Bob looked over at Frank with an apologetic look. “I might have gotten a bit carried away there. Sorry Frank,” he said, giving him a half-smile.
“I forgive you,” Frank mumbled, yanking his arm free, and crossing his arms protectively over his chest. Bob thumped him on the back in remorse and looked back at Jamia; who looked like she was about to cry.
“You could have just said no if you didn’t want to go out with me Frank,” she huffed out angrily, tossing her hair and stomping off.
“I don’t think she got it Bob,” Frank said shaking his head in a confused manner causing a bit of his fringe to fall in front of his charcoal lined hazel eyes.
“I don’t think she did either Frank,” Bob replied, putting his arm around Frank’s shoulders and guiding him out of the school. “Whatcha say we get some big juicy burgers, I’m starved.” Frank nodded his head in agreement and let himself be pulled out of the school, and then out towards the parking lot.
About three minutes later, “Wait a second, I don’t eat meat you douche!” rung out across campus, followed closely by a manly snort.
*
“And he was like ‘Pete if you don’t sit down right now, I’m going to have to give you a detention.’ And I was like, ‘Fine, Mr. Mace give me a detention I don’t care. I’m just exercising my right to free speech.’” Pete stopped to catch his breath then continued, “And then he was like,”
“Pete,” Gabe said exasperatedly, stopping in the middle of the hallway to cover his ears with his hands.
“What?” he asked innocently, dropping his arms to his sides from where they were gesturing wildly and started to drag his boyfriend towards the parking lot.
“I think he wants you to stop talking,” Ray added pulling his keys from his pocket and spinning them on his finger. At Pete’s affronted look; he chuckled, waved goodbye to the whole group and walked off to his car to go home.
Pete just huffed in annoyance and put his hands on his hips. “How rude.”
Patrick, his drum major boyfriend, rolled his brown eyes and yanked lightly on the hand he was holding. “Come on Pete, let’s go,” Patrick said snapping his keys from his belt loop and stalking off towards his beaten down blue Sedan.
Before Pete let’s himself get dragged off by his boyfriend he turned around to Gabe and yelled, “I’ll finish telling you my story tomorrow Gabe,” with a smile on his face.
Patrick rolled his eyes playfully. “You know he’ll probably not be at school tomorrow now,” Pete just smiled and nodded his head in agreement. Patrick laughed and pushes Pete’s back. “Just get in the car you goof.”
The ride to Pete’s house was pretty much silent, except for the rock music playing softly out of his speakers; that was until they pass Ashlee’s house.
“We’re going to Ashlee’s party this weekend right?” Pete asked his boyfriend as they turn down his street.
“Do we have to?” Patrick whined, keeping his eyes on the road and turning the steering wheel to the right slightly to pull into the driveway. When he doesn’t get an answer he puts the Sedan in park, turned off the engine and turned to Pete’s pouting face. The strawberry blonde’s resolve crumbles, he can never resist that face. “I guess we can go, if it means that much to you.”
Pete grinned brightly and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek lovingly. “You won’t regret it, I promise Patty Cakes,” he said enthusiastically, clapping his hand, and bouncing in his seat.
“I already am,” Patrick mumbled to himself, watching as his boyfriend skips happily up the path to his house and up the front steps before turning around to blow him a kiss. “I already am.”
*
“Alright ladies, I want ya’ll to start stretching!” Coach Schechter screamed at his players, which was followed by a lot of annoyed grumbling as the guys made their way tiredly to the field and started to stretch out their muscles.
“Jumping jacks!” Bob yelled at his teammates once they were all done stretching. Starting with the three captains, everyone on the field started to do their jumping jacks shouting out every number they did.
“Forty eight, forty nine, fifty!” the players cried as they finished their jumping jacks.
“Push ups!” Frank shouted getting down on the ground and pushing his body up into the push up position. Then, he started his team off on their warm ups and dropped his nose to the ground. After staying there for a few seconds he lifts his body back up and yelled, “One!”
“Backs straight boys! I wanna see your noses touching the dirt!” Coach said heatedly pacing in front of his five rows of players. “You are not a cheerleader Trohman! You’re my quarter back! Get up off your knees!”
“Yes sir!” Joe shouted from under the big puff of hair coming out of his helmet and pushed up off his knees.
After a few more warm ups, Coach Schechter really started practice by getting his players doing their respective drills by splitting them up into his offensive and defensive lines. After about twenty minutes of drills he then moved them off to the side and went over the new plays that he came up with at the last game.
Off on the sideline he had set up a white board that had a bunch of blue and red X’s and black lines running all across the board. The coach made his players take a knee, helmets clacking against their aching knees, making sure they all could see what he had written on the board. Then, he pulled out a pointer stick, slapped it across the board and said, “Alright boys, here’s what I came up with.”
*
“Oh my god. I can’t feel my legs Bob,” Frank whined dragging his feet across the pavement, his bag slung carelessly across the front of his chest and digging into his pecs, to the parking lot.
Bob stopped and turned just gave him this ‘okay, and what do you want me to do about it’ look accompanied by a raised eyebrow. When Frank didn’t say anything else, Bob turned forward again and started walking away from his pouting friend, grumbling under his breath. Frank grinned mischievously, his hazel eyes shining with mirth and pounced on an unsuspecting Bob’s back with a positively gleeful whoop.
“Geez, for a little guy you sure are a fuckin’ fat ass,” Bob groaned slumping forward to keep his balance.
“Hey, don’t be insulting my height bitch,” Frank chirped kicking Bob lightly in the side. Bob growled but kept his comments to himself. “Onward, my big blonde stead!” Frank yelled with a smirk, pointing towards his black Jeep Cherokee and giving Bob one more gentle kick to the side.
Frank fell to the ground with a loud ‘Oaf’, gravel dust flying up all around his body making him cough. Bob just laughed and kept on walking. “Bobert, why’d ya do that?” Frank moaned rubbing his non-existent butt, getting up off the ground carefully.
“I’m nobody’s fuckin’ stead,” Bob answered sticking up his middle finger before jumping into his SUV and speeding off.
Part Two