"Do you, Frank Anthony Iero Jr., take this woman Jamia Nestor, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have, and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto her for as long as you both live?"
There was an intense silence. He wanted to. "I do." He answered, opening his eyes and looking into those of his soon-to-be wife. "Do you, Jamia Nestor, take this man Frank Anthony Iero Jr., to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto for as long as you both live?"
She answered, "I do." They shared a loving gaze, a quiet smile etched on her face. And thus comes the line, "If there be anyone present who may show just and lawful cause as to why this couple may not be legally wed, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."
There was a calm, happy vibe in the room. Everyone knew this wedding was going to come to a close, with the groom carrying his happy bride to get ready for the after party.
You could hear a pin drop in the silence of the room. Until everyone audibly gasped, when one guest stood.
Frank's P.O.V
Well, this is it. The beginning of senior year. Honestly? I'm fucking dreading it. No, I won't be bullied. I'm not suicidal, anymore. I'm just.. I'm not good in school situations. I have this... this condition.
School is easy for me. I'm able to maintain straight A's and B's, no problem. I don't know why I don't like going, I just don't. My mom doesn't like it. "You have so much potential!" She'll say. "You're so smart!" Yes mom, I know. I go to make her happy. And hopefully, eventually, make something of myself.
It's 7:00AM. Fuck. It feels like I got four hours of sleep, while in reality I got about nine. I dragged myself out of bed with a whiny groan and shut my alarm off. The fuckin' thing makes me want to implode. I left my room, slapping my light switch on, and trudged into the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and gasped, leaning in close and tugging at my under eyes. "Fuck," I said, making a face at myself. "I look fucking dead." I sighed, knowing the steam of the shower would make them go away. I turned the shower on and stripped my clothes while I waited for the water to heat up. I took this time to brush my teeth, too. Once I was done, I stepped in, and mentally prepared myself for my last year of high school.
Pushing through the doors of the school with my back pack perched on my shoulder, I immediately wanted to vomit. God, I was going to be miserable. I looked around. No one was paying any attention to me, but I felt like the world's eyes were on me. I was conscious of everything I was doing. Am I walking weird? Does my side profile look gross? Do I have a fucking shit stain on my ass? I shuddered at the thought. Fifth grade. It haunts me.
I had my schedule clutched in my hand, looking at it to find my locker and locker combination. Okay, I know where this is at. I've only spent the last three years at this school, after all. I found my locker, opened it, and threw my shit in there. Except a binder, notebook, and pencil. The basics for the first day of school. I treaded on to my first class.
"Good morning everyone, and happy Tuesday!" My overly-excited science teacher exclaimed. It was 7:46 AM, how the fuck was he so energetic. I look around, everyone was paying attention, but looked like they were going to fall asleep at any minute. "My name is Mr. McCann, and hopefully, I'll be your favorite teacher by the end of this semester." This earned a few sparse laughs around the room, and he smiled, before continuing. "For today, as with most first days of school, we'll just be filling out this paper. I want you to tell me your name, birthday, and three things you think I might want to know about you. If you're okay with having this paper displayed on the wall for your peers to learn about you, check this box here," He pointed at a box and the bottom of the paper he was holding. "and it'll be hung on the bulletin board. Once you're done, pass them to the front of your row, and the first person in your row must raise their hand so I can come collect your papers."
He distributed the papers down the rows- well, have four to the first person in the rows for them to pass back. I was the second in the row. The first person was a girl with strawberry blonde hair that ran past her shoulders, it was straight with iron curls at the end. Pretty, I thought. I took the papers from her with a quiet "thank you" and passed them back the row. I laid the paper on my desk and began filling out the information. Frank Iero. 10/31/90. I have ADHD. I like to smoke cigarettes. I'll never get married. Once I was done, I handed my paper back up to the girl.
