Tiny Dancer {Jalex}

Life.

Alex
When I was a boy, I used to ask my dad why aunty Maura and uncle Kevin weren't married, and he would always answer me; "Alex, have you ever seen a cat marry a mouse?" It seemed like a stupid, quite low humoured, joke when I was about 9 or 10. But when I finally turned 13 I had figured out that what he was trying to say was: "Son, what I'm saying is never marry a woman the complete opposite of you. Or else you'll probably be signing divorce papers before you can say 'I do'" so I've been living by those rules by my whole life. So far I've done nothing of use. Sure I've started a band and we play in places and I'm kind of cool I guess, but then again I'm sort of a dork. I can't exactly find my place writhing through
the school hierarchy. My daily routine consists of walking to school with Joe my supposed best friend but we only really hang out because I give him a good reputation to the girls and in return he gives me weed.

Jack
My first friend was someone called Lacey. We were always playing together in the back yard, we would eat together. But the only thing was that she was 7 years old, and she was a dog. After she died about a good 4 months ago, and A 3 year relationship became a relationshit, I never really had any friends anymore, nor was I that happy. At school there's something called hierarchy. From the top there are the jocks with the models for girlfriends. Or at least that's what they call them when they're not calling them something obscene and sexist. Then there are the band guys, who seem pretty talented if they're not playing anything like nickelback. I prefer bands like blink 182 and green day. But then at the very bottom, no, PAST the very bottom is me. The ballet fag. I'm pretty enthusiastic about dance, so what? But wherever I go I'm gonna get shit. I'm one of those people who have had all their friends leave them after the week is over and they're done with being nice to me for whatever reason, so I don't really know how to socialise.

Chapter one: life

When I was a boy, my dad used to ask me "Alex, have you ever seen a cat marry a mouse?" It seemed like a stupid, quite low humoured, joke when I was about 9 or 10. But when I finally turned 13 I had figured out that what he was trying to say was: "Son, never marry a woman the complete opposite of you. Or else you'll probably be signing divorce papers before you can say 'I do'" If that was true, I wouldn't have ended up with Jack Barakat; my complete opposite, yet the love of my life.
I have so far broken the cat and mouse rule in various ways. First of all: he is a he. Second of all: he does ballet and I'm in a band.
How did we end up together? I don't know. Is he the single most gayest man on earth? Probably. Are we happy together? Yeah.
Without sounding too cliché, I want to explain how this all happened.

September 16th 2004

On a brisk autumn day, underneath the branches of a Sycamore tree enveloping the sidewalk, sat I, Alex Gaskarth, a mediocre, moderately edgy 16 year old senior who happened to attend Dulaney high school of Baltimore. I took a drag of my cigarette (one quality that made me the moderately edgy individual I am.) and turned curtly towards the tall, lanky shadow that had seemingly extra long limbs for a 6'2 18-year-old, perching next to me. "This is good shit, Barakat." I huffed. "you wouldn't know a good smoke if I hit you over the head with it." He replied, witty as ever. Making no expression, he continues on talking. "Anyway, y'know how I told you a couple weeks ago my little brother is joining this craphouse sometime soon?" I nod politely, however much I want to bash his head in. "He's gonna be in ya grade, buddyboy." He smiles maliciously and I squint my eyes, listening intently to what Joe is saying. I fear that he's going to ask me a favour or gonna give me some kind of proposition like he always does. That's part of what he likes to call our 'friendship'. His definition of friendship, if anything, would be my definition of bribery, pressure and blackmail. "You gotta be good to my brother, Gaskarth, if I hear of anyone doing anything to him, the blame's on you and you better not forget that I can snap your neck like a fucking pencil, You got me?" Nevertheless this doesn't come as a surprise to me, so I nod quickly. "I was thinking, I could introduce you two. I gotta warn yous, he's pretty enthusiastic about this ballet crap." I begin to feel like this isn't a good idea but I can't stop my mouth from agreeing. "okay, joe, yeah I can handle ballet-y and flamboyant." He shoots a bitter glare at me "you better." He spits, before up and making his way back into school. Joe Barakat is the kind of guy you'd find hanging out behind a dumpster with a gang in leather jackets, smoking and cutting classes just because he can. If you would ever come across him for the first time on your life, you'll assume his name is Tony or something. According to the school hierarchy he's hot shit, but I don't know what's so interesting about gelling your hair to the point that it's saturated with grease and a fake Italian/American accent, but apparently I like it because that's who seems to be in my band. With 3 other guys, Tony (someone you would think would be called joe) mark and Al. All in all i'd say we're pretty popular, and while I have tonnes of people following us around is overwhelming, but they usually follow Joe around, so it's not half bad.

I figure I'll spend my time sitting on the sidewalk in solitude thinking about what his brother will look like. He would probably look like a rat. A hybrid of Joe and both of his parents has to look nasty. It's not like I have anything better to do than to bitch to myself about people I don't know.

Eventually, the school bell rings arousing me from my careless wonderings. I put out my cigarette and remove my leather jacket embroidered with "lions" on the back. As a consequence of taking my precious time, I realise that the hallways are deserted and classes have started. I bolted straight to calculus. (The second to last lesson on a Wednesday) I forced open the hardly-opening-door to reveal a very displeased Dr. O'shea. It's not like I'm new to being disastrously late. I just sit down, and watch the hour tick by and wait for my personal little hell to end.

Usually by now joe would be waiting for me to walk home with him, but just this once I end up waiting for him. "What took you so long?" I question. "Sorry, I was with Wendy," he pauses. "Not the best I've ever had." At this point I figure out he was with Wendy and not just with Wendy. Another thing about Joe is that he goes through girls the way I go through pens. It may sound weird to you, but not to someone who bites them to the point where you virtually eat them. After a while Joe turns to me and our conversation goes a bit like this.

Joe: what happened with Noël?

Me: it didn't work.

Joe: nothing ever works with you and girls.

Me: I wouldn't say that.

Joe: so... Are you?

Me: what?

Joe: are...you..?

Me: am I what?

Joe: gay.

Me: what if I am?

Joe: what if you are?

Me: what if I'm gay how would you feel?

Joe: fine.

Me: I'm not gay.

Joe: seems like you are.

Me: yeah well I'm not.

Joe: ok.

Me: ok.