Inquiries That Have Nothing To Do With The Italian Mafia - (Multiship){complete}

3. Straight Outta "Home-Schooling" And Ready To Rebel™

Urie

Not even two weeks into being a high school student, I've already broken the majority of my mom's rules.

It all started before school even started, when I ruined my new shoes by jumping in a mud puddle on the way to the building that looks like a really shitty discount lab. The look of it is really daunting, honestly. But in my defense with the whole shoes thing, being stuck in a lab for ten years makes you miss simple childhood things like jumping in puddles and nearly sacrificing your sisters to Satan. But now that I think about it, maybe my powers aren't the only reason my parents thought I was possessed. Oops.

My reign of defiance continued when I bummed a cigarette off some guy smoking in the alley right beside the school on my third day. I hadn't smoked up until that point, and with my newfound freedom I decided to try everything I missed out on, but smoking doesn't seem like something I'll do again. There's something euphoric about blowing smoke out of your mouth like a dragon, but I couldn't stop thinking about my lungs. They don't get enough credit for what they do; they weigh, like, one kilogram each, have to deal with my inactive ass all the time, and they're only payed in useless oxygen. That doesn't seem very fair to me.

But on the seventh day of being the most one-hundred percent normal guy in Chicago, I slipped up and used my powers in public. If my mother had seen, she'd have had my head on a stick. I couldn't help it; I dropped my book and I didn't want to attract unwanted attention by letting it fall to the floor in the middle of the library. I made sure to check my surroundings before bringing it back to the table, and as far as I know, no one saw.

I'm safe. Thank fuck.

~~

Not even an hour later, I'm at my locker (which are absolutely confusing when you try to open them. Honestly, I've had an easier time fighting off hordes of scientists than opening that thing) when the human equivalent of a literal tree swaggers over and leans against the locker next to mine.

I raise an eyebrow at him, not trusting the smirk he's sending my way. "Uh, can I help you?" Oh crap, I think, this is my first interaction with someone my age! What a historic day! Judging by the look on his face, he either wants to sell me drugs or sleep with me. Honestly, I wouldn't be opposed to either of those options.

"Why yes, I think you can." He sends a confident look to something behind me, and I don't have enough time to turn around and see what it is before he asks, "Do you wanna buy some drugs?"

I blink. I knew it! "Uh..."

He suddenly begins chuckling like crazy. "Nah, I'm just kidding. You ain't getting any of my 'juanas." He extends his hand towards me. "I'm Dallon. Dallon Weekes. You're the new kid, Brandon right?"

"Yeah, if you're a Starbucks barista." I smirk, shaking his hand. "But if you're not, my name's Brendon Urie."

Dallon laughs, retracting his hand and stuffing it in his jean pocket. "Hey, you're part of the Weird Name Squad too! High five!"

We high-five, and I begin to wonder what the everlasting fuck is going on as he looks behind me, probably at the thing he looked at before. "Come here guys, he's cool!"

I turn to see who he's talking to, and the first thing that catches my attention is a girl with long straight turquoise hair and black lipstick. She looks like the kind of girl my mom would never want me to bring home, but she's lucky she doesn't have to worry about that.

"Brendon, this is Ashley." Dallon gestures to her, causing her to smile and wave at me. "She likes Chipotle, dank bops, and girls and boys."

I wave back at her, glad I'm not the only LGBT person in the room. "Hey."

"And this," Ashley grabs someone's arm and pulls him to her side. "Is our son Ryan."

My eyes settle on Ryan, and, let me just say, wow. Wowie wowie wow wow wow. Their son Ryan is a wowie wow wow. Not that many people can achieve that level of wow. Props to his parents.

Ryan literally looks like an average guy; I could walk past him on the street and not notice him, let alone think of him as a wowie wow wow. But now that he's here right in front of me and I can see him, I'm glad I can. His hair's short, brown, and curly, and it looks really soft. I feel like, if I were to run my fingers through it (which, unfortunately, I'm not going to do), it would feel really soft; almost like a dog, but without the smell. His eyes look like a brown that reminds me of chocolate. I hear my stomach growl at the thought as I wave at him, trying not to make my staring obvious. Fuck, now I really want chocolate.

"By the sounds of it, it sounds like you're hungry." Dallon grins, and I get the feeling that it's a recurring thing for him. "Wanna join us for lunch?"

I can practically hear my mom's voice in my head, telling me to say no. You don't want to hang out with those types of people, Brendon, her voice echoes in my ears. All they do is smoke marijuana and neglect their futures. You're better than that.

Fuck, even in school I'm haunted by my parents.

This realization is what causes me to smile, saying, "that would be great."

"Sweet!" Ashley cheers.

As they lead me to the cafeteria, I notice them all sharing an eerily knowing look. It's a dangerous look, and it sends a chill down my spine at the memories I have associated with that look. If you were to trademark it, the copyright laws would definitely go to lab rat kings-a new term I've dubbed scientists, since I was a lab rat and they appeared to be the rulers of me.

Jesus, I need to stop thinking about all that. I've escaped, I'm with my family, and no one here knows about how much of a freak I actually am.

Right?

A/N: If you're a security guard at a Samsung store, does that make you a guardian of the galaxy?

-Izzy