Before Killing Was Cool ➊ FRERARD

14: The Chips In Bob Bryar's Headstone

C h a p t e r | F o u r t e e n

Present Day - Mikey

It's the day of Pete's high-school graduation, the day before summer vacation kicks off. The air is sticky with heat, thick with anticipation of all the limitless opportunity that comes with the sun and the knowledge that in time you can be anything or anyone you desire. Mikey is aimlessly jealous of that freedom.

Patrick's come to pick him up for school since Pete had to go in early to rehearse for the ceremony or whatever lame excuse it was. But Mikey's in a monumental panic after realising there's no fish food left for Joe.

"What if I kill him?" He's raking through the cupboards, tossing half-empty boxes of cereal and farmer's market baking supplies onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. "I have one responsibility in my life and I'm about to mess it up like I always do."

"Hey, it'll be fine," Patrick reassures him with a friendly smile, "you're talking to the guy who dumped soda in the tank and thought he killed the poor dude with a sugar overload. You're much better at this than I am."

"If I kill this fish, Pete is gonna kill me." Mikey stops in his tracks and looks mournfully at Patrick. "He knows Joe is the only thing keeping me together at this point, and it's probably the only thing keeping Pete together too—"

"That's ridiculous," Patrick laughs, "you two are keeping each other sane. You're like two mismatched jigsaw puzzle pieces that have somehow made yourselves fit. A goldfish is just something you can project onto, Miko."

"Miko?" Mikey echoes in confusion.

"Sorry, just a nickname. I think it's Japanese, though they tend to use it for women." He scratches his head sheepishly. "I heard you aren't keen on 'Mikes'."

"It's what Gerard called me," answers Mikey immediately before going back to searching through the cupboards. Eventually he has to give up, throwing up his arms in defeat. "There's none. I can't believe I didn't notice we ran out." He gives Patrick his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes. "Could we stop by the pet store on the way to school? I don't think I can handle this meltdown for any longer."

Patrick shakes his car keys with an impending grin. "If the traffic allows. Be quick about it."

The traffic does allow. They take the detour to the pet store and the shopkeeper points them in the direction of what they're searching for. Patrick gets distracted at the squeaky dog toys as Mikey rakes through his options. They must look a sight - Patrick with his signature fedora tipped on his head and glasses like Mikey's attempting to hide the bags under his eyes, and Mikey in Pete's hoodie labelled by some obscure metal band he's never heard of with the soles flapping off of his Converse.

"Are you sad you're not up there with Pete today?" Mikey asks nonchalantly. "With your cap and gown and..."

"It was my decision to drop out." Patrick brushes it off like it's nothing to him. "After the shooting - and this is real cliché - I realised how short and unfair life is. I was sure glad I wasn't grouped in with your friends and killed, but I didn't want to spend the next months of my life in that prison just to shake the principal's sweaty hand in exchange for a piece of laminated paper I'd probably lose soon enough. I mean, who cares about a high-school diploma?"

When he sees Mikey's forlorn expression, he stops playing with the dog toys, trying not to let his short attention span ruin the conversation. "Sorry, that was insensitive." Patrick often forgets that Mikey was indeed friends with the kids who got shot, and that his brother isn't here anymore. He can't imagine how difficult it must be.