All the way to Wilmette, I look out the window and cry.
I am not going to miss my Mom, but I feel so horribly guilty. Guilty for leaving her. Guilty for not comforting her as she cried. Guilty for making her cry in the first place. Guilty for making her feel like there's something wrong with her. But above all others, guilty for being alive.
Kevin doesn't talk to me for the first five minutes of the journey. When he finally does talk to me, he says: "Cheer up, Pat."
I sniff.
"You're finally leaving her," he says. "You're finally doing what's good for you. You'll join Wilmette High School, you'll make lots of friends, you'll have a great time for the next two years. And you'll live with me in my apartment, we'll order pizza at the weekends and we'll enjoy ourselves. Doesn't that sound better than spending the rest of your life looking after the woman who scorned you for the past four years or so?"
He's right, but I'm not in the mood to talk, so I just ignore him.
About fifteen minutes later, Kevin says: "Are you not gonna talk to me?"
I sigh. There's something that's been bugging me for this whole journey so far. If Kevin wants me to talk, that's what I'll talk about.
So I do.
"I just left her," I say, not looking at my brother. "Out of the blue, I got up and left. I'm no better than our father..."
Kevin's grip on the steering wheel tightens. "Patrick, never say that. You're a billion times better than that man. You always have been, you always will be. Don't think of it as abandoning her, think of it as starting fresh. Like I said, this is good for you."
Pause.
"And if you ever mention that toad of a father again, I'll throw you out the apartment," Kevin says ominously.
I don't think I've ever heard him that serious. I know he won't throw me out, but it's the thought that he's so serious about the mention of our dad that scares me.
After what feels like forever, Kevin pulls over outside a tall brick building which I'm assuming is the apartment block.
"This is it," he says. "Welcome to Wilmette, little bro."
We get out the car and get my suitcase, then Kevin leads me into the building, up three floors in an elevator, and along a corridor until we reach his apartment: 602.
Kevin unlocks the door and steps inside his apartment.
"Welcome to my humble home," he says.
I look around his apartment. It's smaller than Mom's bungalow. It's got a lounge with a little kitchen area, a bedroom, a spare bedroom and a bathroom. It's a bit messy, but I'm fine with that. It's not even my apartment, so I can't complain. I'm just relieved that I'll have a restful night without having to hear my mother cry herself to sleep.
"So you'll sleep in the spare bedroom," says Kevin when he's put my suitcase in the spare bedroom. "And we'll have a nice, cosy dinner tonight. What do you want to eat? There's a supermarket down the road where we can get pizza. Or there's a chicken place if you'd prefer. Or I can just make a pasta thing. What would you like?"
At the moment, I'd just like a hug. So I fling my arms around my big brother and smile.
"Thank you," I whisper.
I'm thanking him for a lot: for being there for me, for sorting things out, for saving me, for taking me in.
Kevin wraps his arms around me and we enjoy this brotherly hug for a while. It's the first hug I ever remember having, and it's definitely the most loving. This is the first time in my life when I actually feel cared for. I'm so lucky to have Kevin as my brother.
TWO MONTHS LATER...
"Pat, get up."
The sound of my brother's voice is the first thing I hear as I stretch my body and sit up in bed.
"Why?" I ask, rubbing my eyes sleepily.
"Because it's your first day of Wilmette school, silly," replies Kevin.
I suddenly realise - I'm starting my penultimate year of school at Wilmette High School today!
I get up and grab a cereal bar and banana for breakfast. When I've eaten them, I brush my teeth and comb my hair. I dress into a white buttoned shirt, black knee shorts, a yellow knitted waistcoat over the top of the shirt, a black cap that people used to call a "grandpa hat" and trainers. I look nerdy as hell, but that's who I am and I'm going to try not to care what people think of me anymore. Lessons I've learnt from being bullied at my old school:
- Don't talk too much.
- Don't cause a scene.
- Don't make a big thing of yourself.
- Don't think too much.
- Don't be too weird.
But I also need to be myself and not let stuff get to me.
Kevin gives me a lift to school. It takes about ten minutes. During our journey, Kevin says: "So Pat."
"Hmm?" I look at him.
"There's something I need to tell you about Wilmette."
Suddenly his face turns all serious, as if a cold wind blew and chilled him.
"Wilmette can get...quite dangerous," he says sincerely. "Especially at night. A whole load of bad people run round doing all kinds of crazy shit. Just be sensible, okay? I don't want you doing anything dangerous."
"Okay," I say.
I wonder just how dangerous it can be.
Kevin pulls over outside the gates of Wilmette High School. Excited yet nervous butterflies flutter around in my stomach. What if I won't get accepted? What if I get bullied again?
"This is it," says Kevin. "I'll pick you up right here at 3:15. And while you're there, make some friends. You can't be shy forever. Good luck, kiddo."
"Thanks, Kev," I smile.
Taking deep breaths, I get out the car and make my way inside.
As I pass students of Wilmette High School chatting and gossiping excitedly outside the entrance of the school, I notice that only a couple of them look at me weirdly. They don't stare at me and grimace like the people in my old school, though. That gives me a surge of hope. Maybe this school will be better.
When I'm inside, I manage to find my way to a door that says 'PRINCIPAL WAY - PLEASE KNOCK AND WAIT'. This is where Kevin told me to go. Nervously, I knock three times on the door and wait for a response.
"Come in," calls out a man's voice from inside the room.
I anxiously open the door and step inside the office. It's a fairly small, simple room. A desk sits in the middle of the room with chairs at either side. Potted plants are dotted round the room's perimeter. On the desk are piles of paperwork surrounding a large computer. At the front of the desk is a little plaque thing that says 'PRINCIPAL G. WAY'. Behind the desk sits a man with bright red shoulder length hair, who I'm assuming is Principal Way. When I enter, he looks up from his paperwork and smiles at me.
"Ah, you must be Patrick Stump," he says.
"Yes Sir," I say awkwardly.
"Principal Way," he smiles, standing up and shaking my hand. "Welcome to Wilmette!"
"Thank you," I reply, realising I haven't smiled yet. I must seem really negative. I manage a small smile.
"Please, take a seat."
I sit down in the chair at the desk opposite Principal Way.
"So," Principal Way says. "Your brother informed me of the situation with your mother and your old school."
I look away from him. I don't want to talk about that again.
Placing a hand on my arm, Principal Way says, "I'm so sorry. Having to go through bullying and the situation at home must have been so difficult."
I don't really know what to say, so I just nod. I hear the school bell ring.
"If there's anything you want to talk about, my door is always open."
"Thank you, Sir," I smile, finally looking at him.
Principal Way smiles back at me, before saying: "Anyway, the bell's gone. We need to get you to your new form."
My anxiety level rises. What if they're all bullies again?
I follow Principal Way down the student infested corridor. While we're walking, he says: "So I'm sure you know how it works. You'll be introduced to your form now, and everyday you go to your form room after lunch break to get registered. Okay?"
"Yes Sir," I reply.
The bell rings a second time. Principal Way and I reach a classroom door in a corridor that he says is the science corridor.
"This is your form room," he says. "This is where you'll go to get registered."
He opens the door and ushers me into the room. It's a science lab with desks of two lined up neatly in rows. On the walls are posters and quotes about science, as well as work done by previous students. As soon as I come in, all eyes are on me. I look at my new form - everyone looks so unique and individual. There are the obvious cool kids, the stereotypical emo kids, the girly girls and the "nerds", as well as others that I can't quite put a label on. I don't even like labelling people...why am I doing it now? At the front of the classroom stands a tall man with floppy black hair.
"Is this the new form member?" the man asks. He's directing the question at Principal Way, but looking at me.
"Yes," replies Principal Way. "Class, this is Patrick Stump, your new peer. I want you to give Mr Stump a nice, warm welcome to Wilmette. Include him. Be his friend." He whispers to me: "I'll be in my office if you need me."
I nod and Principal Way leaves the room. I notice that the man with floppy black hair, who I'm assuming is my new form tutor, grins slightly at the Principal when he exits the room. Then he turns to me with a big smile on his face.
"I'm Mr Iero, your new form tutor," he says, turning to my form. "You heard Principal Way. Make Patrick feel welcome."
I scan the room. There are several empty seats. Which one am I meant to sit in?
"Um, where should I sit?" I ask Mr Iero quietly.
"Why don't you sit next to Hayley, over there," he says, pointing to an empty seat next to a girl with bright orange hair.
I sit down next to this Hayley girl and put my bag on the floor.
"Hi," she says, smiling at me. "I'm Hayley."
She holds out her hand.
"I'm Patrick," I reply, shaking her hand.
I thought she looked like a cool kid when I came in...and from my experience, cool kids don't talk to me. Or maybe the cool kids in this school are different.
Mr Iero sits down and logs onto his computer, allowing the students time to talk amongst themselves. Hayley turns around to face the desk behind us and talks to the two guys sitting there. Everyone is talking to someone...except me. Suddenly Hayley breaks away from her conversation and looks at me.
"So Patrick," she says. "Lemme introduce you to my guys."
"Your guys?" I inquire.
She gestures for me to turn around. I turn to face the desk behind us. At the desk is a guy with light brown hair that's sticking up a lot. He must've put a lot of hairspray in it. He has greenish-grey eyes and some light brown stubble. He wears a nose ring on one side of his nose. He's sitting next to a slim guy with short dark brown hair and brown eyes. He's wearing a beige trilby hat. I've got one like that.
"Guys, this is Patrick," says Hayley, putting her arm around my shoulders.
"Yep, we know," grins stubble guy, looking at me.
"Patrick, meet my guys Jeremy" - she points to stubble guy - "and Taylor." She points to trilby guy.
"Hi," Jeremy and Taylor say in unison.
"Hi," I reply, waving.
Hayley turns back round to face the front just as Mr Iero speaks.
"So the register," says Mr Iero, shutting everyone up. "You know the drill, answer with 'yes Sir' when your name's called." He clears his throat and looks at his computer screen.
As the names are called and the people say "Yes Sir", Hayley whispers to me to tell me about them. She warns me about the annoying people I need to avoid, she tells me which people are nice and which people are mean, and she seems to know everyone's personalities.
"Jeremy," says Mr Iero.
"Jeremy Davis. He's an asshole," whispers Hayley, grinning.
Jeremy kicks her seat and answers his name. I chuckle. Do Hayley and Jeremy always tease each other like this?
"Josh," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says a guy on the other side of the room. He's sitting at a desk with someone who looks kinda like him.
"Zac," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says the guy next to Josh.
"The Farro brothers," says Hayley. "They're our friends too. They fight sometimes, but they've got a good friendship.
"Chad," says Mr Iero.
No response.
"Chad?" repeats Mr Iero, looking round the room inquisitively. "Has anyone seen Chad?"
Suddenly, a muscly guy with short brown hair strolls into the room. He looks like the typical cool kid - tough, strong, badass.
"Yes Sir," he smirks.
A couple of people at the back chuckle to themselves.
"Why are you late, Mr Gilbert?" asks Mr Iero sternly.
"Well," Chad says, looking as though he's making up an excuse.
"Actually, I don't want to hear it," interrupts Mr Iero. "You have a bad habit of making up ridiculous excuses for things."
"I don't need to make any up. I already know plenty of ridiculous excuses." He looks Mr Iero up and down. "You, for example."
The whole class reacts to that comment - some people gasp, some people laugh, but most people just look shocked. I'm shocked myself. Did he really just say that to a teacher?
"Thank you for volunteering to spend lunchtime with me in detention," replies Mr Iero calmly. "Now go sit down."
People laugh at Chad, who just shrugs and sits down at a desk near the back of the classroom with a smirk on his face. Mr Iero continues taking the register.
"So what's he like?" I ask Hayley quietly, but she doesn't answer. I look at her and notice she's staring at Chad with a blank look on her face, as if she's in a trance.
"Hayley?" I prompt.
"Hmm?" She returns to reality and looks at me with rosy cheeks.
It suddenly dawns on me.
"Oh," I say, realising. "You..." I lower the volume of my voice. "You like Chad?"
Hayley's cheeks blush even more. "Is it that obvious?"
I shrug and Hayley sighs. "I'm trusting you, Patrick," she says sincerely. "You can't tell anyone."
"I won't, I promise," I reply.
It's not my place to judge, but Chad seems kinda rude. I wonder why Hayley likes him.
"Andy," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," replies a guy sitting at the back. He's got scruffy shoulder length gingery-brown hair and glasses.
"That's Andy Hurley," says Hayley. "He's really weird. He's one of the badass musical kids, but in class he's really introverted. He can be really quiet and peaceful one minute, but as soon as you start playing music he likes, he'll go insane."
Strange guy.
More names are said and Hayley continues telling me about the people.
"Ryan," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says a guy sitting near the front.
"Ryan Ross," whispers Hayley. "Him and his friends sometimes hang out with us. He denies it, but totally has a crush on one of them."
"Spencer," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says a guy sitting at the desk next to Ryan's.
"That's Spencer Smith, one of Ryan's friends," says Hayley. "I don't know him as well as the others, but he seems alright."
"Patrick," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," I reply confidently. Why did he say my name if he already knows I'm here?
"That guy?" grins Hayley. "He's new here. I don't really know him, but he seems nice."
I smile at her.
"Joe," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says a guy at the back. He's got a mini brown afro and brown stubble.
"Joe Trohman," says Hayley. "He hangs out with Andy and the rest of their group. I don't really know them all that well."
"Brendon," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says the guy sitting next to Ryan. He's got glossy brown hair that must've been sprayed.
"That's Brendon Urie," says Hayley. "He's like the ringleader of their group. He's smart, very charismatic, funny...he likes to talk a lot. Ryan totally has a crush on him."
"Jon," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says the guy sitting next to Spencer.
"Jon Walker," says Hayley. "He keeps to himself. Don't really know him that well. But he's part of Brendon's group, so he hangs out with us sometimes."
"Pete," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says a guy sitting right at the back of the classroom in the corner, next to Andy. He's got floppy black hair that's swept over to one side, partly covering one eye. He's surrounded his eyes with black eyeliner. He looks like the stereotypical emo kids in my old school.
"Oh, that's Pete Wentz," says Hayley, sounding more serious now. "He's...interesting. He's the most popular guy in the school, but only for one reason; his older brother, who's graduated now, is the founder of a gang that sells stuff to kids in this school."
"Stuff?" I frown.
"Not drugs," she says. "Well, sometimes. I don't think Pete's a junkie, though. He's laid back and he's obsessed with his bass. He used to take an amplifier and bass guitar from the music block and bring it to the playground to play it. He's incredibly musical and he's pretty wild. Sometimes he writes songs in class. I haven't really gotten to know him that well. People love him, though."
I look at Pete. He's tapping his fingers on the desk.
"In my old school, people like him wouldn't be popular," I say to Hayley.
"Well," shrugs Hayley. "This school's different."
I feel so glad when she says that - she doesn't know I got bullied, but the fact that she knows this school's different is comforting. No more bullying. I'll still be the weird kid with the sideburns, but I won't be bullied.
Pete looks over and we share a moment of eye contact. Awkwardly blushing, I look away.
"Hayley," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says Hayley. She then whispers to me: "Hayley Williams is the sexiest, coolest girl in the school. But don't tell her I said that."
We laugh with each other. I think I've actually found a friend. And she didn't tell me I'm weird. She didn't look away in disgust. She didn't look embarrassed to be seen sitting with me. She laughed with me, she was nice to me, she warned me about annoying people. For once in my life, I don't feel like a reject.
"Taylor," says Mr Iero.
"Yes Sir," says Taylor.
"Taylor York, another asshole," sighs Hayley, smiling.
"Shut up, you," grins Taylor, poking Hayley's back.
Mr Iero picks up a stack of papers from his desk and stands up.
"Okay class," he says. "These are your timetables for the year. I'll come round and give them to you."
He goes round the room giving people their timetables. The students start talking amongst themselves.
"Hey," Jeremy whispers to Hayley. "OCK meet-up tonight. Pass it on."
"Okay," says Hayley, passing the message on to the desk next to us.
"What's an OCK meet-up?" I ask her, feeling naïve.
"The OCK is Pete's brother's gang. It stands for Overcast Kids. OCK meet-ups are always in the same place at the same time: the old garage downtown where people skateboard and graffiti, at 7:00pm. You can come if you want."
"Are you going?" I ask.
"Everyone's going."
Kevin's words ring in my ears: "Wilmette can get...quite dangerous. Especially at night. A whole load of bad people run round doing all kinds of crazy shit. Just be sensible, okay? I don't want you doing anything dangerous."
I'm not sure I like the idea of meeting up with a gang, but I want to make friends. I'm sure if I just be careful and don't do anything dangerous, I'll be fine. Like Hayley said, everyone's going.
"Yeah, I might go," I say.
"You'll be going to your first period in five minutes," says Mr Iero once he's handed out all the timetables.
"What have you got first?" asks Hayley.
"Um..." I look at my timetable. "Math in room 86."
"Darn," she mutters. "I'm in a different math class. What about second period?"
"Religious studies, room 42."
"Dang it, I've got history. You can meet me and the guys outside Principal Way's office at break, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks."
The bell rings, and my new form are dismissed.