The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know

Does Frank Iero count as a therapist?

"Well, you're in luck," Gerard said. "Frank's studying psychology, and that's close enough to having a real therapist, right?"

"I'm not sure how helpful I would be," Frank said. "Maybe Ryan could talk to one of my professors or something..."

"Nonsense," Gerard interrupted. "You're an excellent student."

It did seem like a good solution. Having Frank help me meant that I wouldn't have to pay for a therapist, and he had almost completed his degree, so he was quite knowledgeable. Besides, it would help Frank gain some experience.

Frank thought about it and then said, "Fine. We'll meet at the Greek Friendship Society house tomorrow."

"Sounds great," I said. I wished that Frank could rescue me from the misery that had encompassed me since Brendon's death, but I doubted it. No therapist could do something like that - they could only provide temporary relief.

My phone buzzed again, and when I took it out of my pocket, I saw that I had received an email from Professor Caldwell. I opened the email and skimmed it over, and although the news might have excited me a few weeks earlier, I didn't feel anything as I read her email. When I finished reading it, I told the Guyliner Club, "The philosophy department selected my motto as one of the finalists for next year's official Kale University motto."

"That's so cool!" Pete exclaimed, expressing the excitement that I couldn't.

"What was your motto?" Laura asked.

"The piano knows something I don't know," I replied.

"That's kind of neat," Frank said.

"I'll definitely vote for your motto," Gerard said. "I'd like to have that on a Kale University T-shirt."

"We're graduating, Gerard," Laura said.

"You can never have too much Kale spirit wear," Gerard said.

As the rest of the Guyliner Club chatted, I typed up a quick reply to Professor Caldwell's email.

Dear Professor Caldwell,

Thank you so much for letting me know that my motto was a finalist and for your continued support throughout this project. I look forward to seeing what happens when the students vote on our new school motto.

Sincerely,

Ryan Ross

I then handed my phone to Pete, who was once again playing with his purple fidget spinner. "Can you please check this over?" I asked.

"Sure," Pete answered. He read the email, and after he sent it, he asked, "What's with your email address, Ryan?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, assuming that I had sent the email from my school account.

"I was just wondering why you decided to make an account called blinkexists666@gmail.com," Pete said.

"I made that when I was twelve," I said awkwardly. "I think I was trying a little bit too hard to be edgy."

Gerard laughed and then said, "Don't worry about it, Ryan. I was just as bad when I was younger, and blink-182 is a genuinely good band. At least your music taste wasn't too bad."

"Gerard's right about that," Frank said.

The rest of the Guyliner Club started to talk about music, but I couldn't focus. It was painful to listen to them talk about their favorite pop punk bands and how every single of them had copied off of Billie Joe Armstrong's eyeliner when all I could think about was Brendon and the smile that lit up his face every time he entered a record store. Perhaps therapy would help me think of something other than Brendon.