"Hurry up, Gerard," whined the awkward thirteen year old with long bangs and thick glasses. He was leaning against the wall of the school, his backpack hanging lazily off his arm, like a dorky kid who was making an attempt at being cool. "I don't have all freakin' day." Gerard walked out of the school finally, a box of comic books held in front of him.
"I really don't see why you're whining," Gerard said, walking down the steps, as his brother put his bag back on properly, "You read these just as much as I do." His younger brother began to argue as they walked down the pathway away from the school. I stood up from vantage point on the ground, and began to follow them. The two brothers seemed to constantly banter back and forth as they walked a few feet ahead of me, but I had a feeling it wasn't because they were mad or anything.
I'm not really sure what drove me to following Gerard home. Perhaps it's the insane part of me that really just wanted to cause trouble. After the art room conflict, I spent the rest of the day wondering about him. What was he really like when he wasn't pissed? Does he have any other friends? The same questions kept gnawing on my brain until finally I decided to find out for sure on my own. At the end of the day, I hung around the exit until I saw Gerard walk by on his way to pick up a bunch of comics from the library. After that, I sat outside, behind the flag pole and waited for Gerard to leave. That was when I was introduced to his younger brother Mikey, who had taken to whining for Gerard to hurry up like an annoying kid.
I picked myself up from the ground and followed behind the pair. The two brothers turned down the street towards the shady part of town. I stop walking for half a second before continuing. Do they live in the ghetto? Hesitantly, I followed the pair for a few more blocks before they turned again.
Cemetery Drive.
The two brothers turned into a dark road, and walked up a path to dead and bleak graveyard. There were about a hundred rotting, grey, rocky headstones scattered around the abandoned landscape. The brother slipped inside and sat down next to a dark, black mausoleum. They spread out the comics like holy books in front of them. Gerard pulled a handful of assorted candy bars and sweets out of his bag and set them between the two in a fashion that told me this was an everyday occurrence.
I ducked behind a large headstone, so I was close enough to hear but hidden in the sneaky shadows of the markers of the dead. Mikey opened an X-Men comic and propped it against his legs. He broke off a piece of a chocolate bar, then set the rest down on the grass, plopping the chocolate in his mouth. He seemed so content. Like an animal in it's natural habitat. Mikey looked over at his brother.
"What are you going to do with all these, Gerard? Our closet is full."
Gerard swallowed the last little sour gummy ring, then opened a very old issue of The Doom Patrol. He rolled his eyes at his brother's comment when he processed it. "I don't know," he muttered, as he turned the page of his comic, "Make room."
Mikey closed his comic book, and leaned back against the mausoleum door. He seemed relaxed here, I was almost jealous. So did Gerard. "Maybe Grandma has room or something," he said, closing his eyes. I momentairily lost my footing, and my shoes scraped loudly against the ground. All I could think of was how screwed I was. He was going to see me, and then I would be back to square one. Without warning, Gerard rose to his feet, knocking the comic aside.
"Let's go home, Mikey," Gerard said, loading up the comics. He haphazardly threw the candy trash into his backpack and stood up. "I said, Let's go," he repeated, as Mikey took his time, carefully folding his page and setting it on the ground. Mikey stood up and lifted up his backpack.
"We just got here, Gerard," the younger brother continued as he picked up his comic from the ground, "Like, not even five minutes ago." Gerard didn't answer for a few seconds. He began to walk away as Mikey continued to protest. "God, Gerard! Stop acting so paranoid! People are going to think you're crazy!"
"Mikey!" Gerard snapped suddenly, as he approached the headstone I was hiding behind. The older brother spun around towards Mikey, which gave me the perfect chance to escape. I lept up and hurried into the shadows by the gates. I crouched on the ground, so I could barely hear them. "Shut up! We need to go. Now!" Mikey lurched backwards, then rolled his eyes, like he thought Gerard was the stupidest person he'd ever met.
The two brothers started walking again, this time back up Cemetery Drive the way they came, still without them knowing that I'd been following them. Yes, it had been an overly close call, but I was still safe. I smirked slightly, as I followed them into the strictly residential, but still, creepy part of town. The two talked back and forth like Gerard randomly ripping him from the graveyard hadn't been strange at all. It was so weird to see Gerard seem so calm after being so nervous. From what I saw in the art room and just a second ago, he seemed like a nervous wreck.
Finally, the two stopped outside a tiny house. From where I was, standing behind a tree nearby, I could hear their conversation.
"Next time, don't be such a little asshole," Gerard said, opening up the mailbox. I could see "WAY" printed in all caps on the side of the mailbox. "When I say 'Go' we go, alright? We aren't even supposed to be up there anyway. You're just lucky I'm watching your shit."
Mikey rolled his eyes again, and stood beside Gerard as he retrieved the mail. "Whatever. Why did you make us leave anyway?"
"We were being followed," Gerard said, lowering his voice so I could barely hear. My heart pretty much stopped beating, and I flattened myself closer against the tree and clenched my eyes closed.
"By who?"
I heard Gerard sigh frustratedly. "Like I know, Mikey. I mean, I saw them when we left the school, but I didn't think anything of it. And then, when we were at the graveyard, I saw footprints coming up towards us that weren't yours or mine. It could have been one of those guys from school, who love to shove me in lockers or it could have been a chick. I really don't know."
Mikey muttered something I couldn't hear, then Gerard responded. "I don't know. Combat boots, maybe, but I wear combat boots sometimes, and so does a whole freaking lot of people I know." Gerard shut the mailbox. "Let's go inside," he said, then I heard the shuffling of shoes and a few seconds later, a door open then close. I let myself slid from the tree to the ground. Man, if he had seen me... I can't even imagine what would happen. I let out a huge sigh. The stress of hiding and the tension in my thighs from crouching so long was killing me. I peeked around the tree and caught glimpse of their house again before standing up and beginning the journey to my "home."
At first glance, anyone would assume the orphanage is a nice place. It sure looks nice. It's not in the nasty part of town, but, you know, looks aren't everything. The Luna House is supposed to be a safe place for orphaned girls ages ten to eighteen. I know how stereotypical it sounds, but the headmistress is a real witch. She's absolutely bitter and rude, and she's been known to be a nasty drunk.
I set my bag down on the little ledge thing by the door where everyone sets their bags. Mrs. Norris stepped around the corner. She looked tired with her black hair pulled into a messy bun. She probably missed her precious Vodka. The young headmistress nodded at me, and sighed. "Late again, Lola?"
Avoiding an upset, I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. "I got held up," I said, which wasn't a complete lie, "I have a social life to tend to." That, on the other hand, was a complete lie.
Mrs. Norris narrowed her eyes maliciously and pointed a very pointy finger towards me. "Get home on time, Lola. It's annoying when you show up half an hour late and I'm wondering, 'Oh! Is she off drunk or dead in a ditch somewhere?' But I don't know! Because you're never here on time!" She hissed, and retracted her finger. I flinched backwards, feeling like a snake ready to strike.
"Next time, don't wonder. It doesn't matter. You don't care and neither does anyone else," I say, my voice beginning to become rough and edgy. I feel close to tears, but I don't cry. I never cry. I'm not sure if I felt like crying because she's insulting me, or if I know that what I'm saying is true. Before she can respond, I push past her and vanish into my room.
I call it my room in a relative way. It's NOT my room. I share it with two fourteen year old twins who are never really home. They're in the process of being adopted, so there's a fair chance I'll have the room all to myself. I guess that's good. I mean, they never really liked me. Back when I was really depressed, shortly after I got here, they used to talk about me. They'd whisper horrible things to each other when I was only a few feet away, sitting on my bed. "Emo Freak" was their favorite term of endearment. So, it's a good thing they'll be gone forever. At least, I think so. Those two were the only reason I haven't cried since the fire. If they hadn't been here, I would have drowned in the tears I would have cried in my sleep.
I lay down on my bed and allow my thoughts to run free which is something I don't usually do. As horrible as it may seem, most days are like this. No point or light at the end. It's just me laying in my bed, wishing to be back home. I can't go home though. I never will be able to.
The silkiness of my comforter against my skin calms me down. It makes me want to sleep. It's been a long day. I stretch out my back and close my eyes. Instantly, my restless brain begins to wonder about Gerard and Mikey. Are they as alone as I am? They said something about a mother and grandmother, so no. Not nearly as alone as I am. Maybe they feel lonely like I do. I think everyone feels like this sometimes, but I'm the only one who feels like this all the time