"Move, freak," a preppy girl with flat blond hair said, pushing me away from the salad bar. I was nearly knocked to the floor. Instead of causing a scene, which was my first instinct, I stood aside and let her grab what she wanted with her perfect little hands. As I waited for her to move, I heard the snob mutter something to one of her posse that was pretty much attached to her, "You would think the Dyke would have enough sense to stop staring at my ass right now." The lackey laughed loudly, then followed the snob away. I stood there for a minute, feeling struck.
Dyke.
That one word. Four freaking letters.
It's like a sickness in high school. Once said, the word becomes an illness and it sticks to you like a flashy bumper sticker for all to see. Suddenly, nobody wants to talk to you, and you're the girl with no friends all because somebody said that damn word.
I look across the cafeteria. At this point, it doesn't matter. I'm not a Lesbian. Not even a little bit, I promise, but that hasn't stopped my entire class from becoming convinced of otherwise.
At first, my eyes lock onto the scrawny black haired boy. "Not him," I think, my forehead creasing, "He hates you, Lola." I bite my lip and begin walking to an empty table. There is NO use in trying to find someone to fit in with. They'll always hurt you. I slid into an empty table, my eyes focusing on the center. Maybe I didn't take my medicine today. I wouldn't be so jittery and nervous.
Around me, my peers run recklessly to their tables. I try to ignore them. It's the only thing I can do. I've been here two months, and, I haven't interacted with a fraction of these people. It's okay though. I'm used to not having any friends, and when I get them, I drive them off. Perhaps it's my habit of scrutinizing everything and freaking out over minor details, like the changing of the portraits.
I reached into my bag and pulled the worn drawing pad from it's resting place, followed by a sharp pencil. For a long time after I moved here, I couldn't even draw. I'd spent weeks, when I wasn't at school, staring at the four walls of my bedroom. It wasn't until about a week ago when I thought, "I need to go back. I have got to get out of this damn room."
After a minute, I looked across the lunchroom, and my eyes stopped on Gerard. I see the side of his face. He ran his hand through his long, black, oily hair, and looked around, just as I was. Gerard scanned across the lunchroom, his eyes never stopping, until they reached me. It was a funny moment really. Two dark and depressed people making eye contact across the lunchroom in a very awkward way. I kept his eye contact for a minute, but Gerard quickly looked away, and went back to eating his salad. A few seconds later, Gerard looked up again. He frustratedly abandoned his salad and stood up. Moments later he sat down right in front of me. I didn't know what to do, so I stayed silent.
"You're alone?" He asked quietly, trying to catch my gaze.
I smirked slightly, and looked up, straight into Gerard's eyes. "And you're surprised?"
"I got the impression that you are surrounded by friends yesterday," Gerard replied, "Nobody is that confident and alone." I took in his words. They were so accurate and true. I worried that someone would see us together and the bullying would duplicate. I didn't reply for a minute, and folded my arms. "I heard those girls in line," he said, leaning closer, "It's the exact same for me too. Expect they don't call me dyke, because I'm a guy, and they usually hurt me physically. I know you need someone."
I scoffed loudly. Perhaps, I really just wanted to scare him away. I rubbed my scars under the table. For some reason, that makes me feel safe and secure. "I don't need anyone," I replied, sitting up slightly. "It's easy to just be keeping an eye on myself."
"Oh?" Gerard questioned, raising his dark eyebrows, "Is that so?" The young man paused for a second. "When's your P.E. class?"
I looked up from the table. It was random questions like these that bothered me; Things that just don't make sense. "Next hour, actually," I said, "Why?"
"I had to switch my P.E. and art classes, so I have P.E. next hour too. Today's co-ed P.E. so we can hang out, right? Or are you too cool for me?" Gerard leaned across the table like a child begging for candy. I smirked a little and sighed.
"Alright," I agreed halfheartedly. One day couldn't hurt right? He's just.... a guy..... It's not like he's made of cyanide and phosphorus. "But, I never really go to P.E."
"What do you mean?"
I ran my tongue across the front row of teeth from behind my lips, considering how much of my private life I should leave out of this conversation. Gerard definately seemed decent enough to know of my whereabouts during Physical Education. "Behind the stands out on the football field," I replied, lowering my voice, "I hate running, and our teacher never notices. I mean, I went to that ruddy class ONCE, and we ran the entire time. It was pretty much shit central from there, so I made a slight schedule change. Everyday, I go outside and waste half an hour under the stands."
Gerard raised his eyebrows in either respect or disbelief. He smirked slightly, and his eyes flashed a sort of excitement. "Sounds much more fun than playing dodgeball. May I request joining you?"
"Sure," I replied after contemplating, "But I swear to God, if you tell anyone, I'll deck you, understand?"
The young man was practically bursting from excitement. It must have been like some huge joke to him. I guess, when you live in a place like this, everything has to be a huge joke to have any sort of fun. I watched Gerard smile to himself for a minute, before I nodded to the door. "Let's go right now before the bell rings," I said, while I was standing up. Gerard closely followed, walking beside me, out the doors towards the grandstands.
The dark haired young man slid himself beside me under the grandstands. I wasn't still that sure about this. He could be a freak who was planning on drugging me under here. I guess it must have been that arrogant side of me that just chooses the easiest option because it's too lazy too look farther. Gerard smiled a little as he sat down and folded his legs.
"It's funny," he said, looking over at me, "You don't make me feel miserable."
"I don't even know what that means," I responded without even blinking.
Gerard laughed a little, and folded his arms. "Well, I guess I can't keep this a secret forever. I suffer from depression," Gerard stopped for a few seconds, then continued, "It's... It's pretty bad, and for a while, I did a decent job of pretending to be happy, but," he shook his head, "I'm a terrible actor. Finally, it got to the point where I spent days in my room, barely leaving just to pee. My mom took me to the doctor, and I was diagnosed right then and there with chronic depression. I'm on medicine now, and it's some pretty legit stuff. It usually works, but when it doesn't, I'm miserable." The young man stopped talking for a minute, "Little things set me off. Like, annoying people or failing a test or those idiots who harass me. Things like that send me back lashing, and in a second, I'm depressed again." I must have looked pretty bad, because then, he went on to say, "Basically, what I'm saying is, you make me feel happy, in a non-creepy way. Usually, if you would have been a normal person, I wouldn't even be here right now, because you pissed me off yesterday in art, but you're NOT normal!"
I furrowed my brow, "Thanks."
"That's not what I meant," Gerard said quickly, backtracking over his last sentence, "For one, nobody's normal. We all have our problems." Gerard seemed to stop suddenly, "Some more than others. Anyway, you're different to me. I actually, somewhat, appreciate you."
Something in his eyes changed a little. Like, he was realizing something. I suffocated the urge to roll my eyes. Screw deep conversations. I'm a mood killer. "Oh. Well, that's ironic, because I hate your guts," I retorted, murdering the deep, holy mood Gerard had tried to create. Not that I didn't believe his story, because I did, but I'm not going to go telling all my secrets like he just did.
"What? Why? I just met you... yesterday," He said, looking rather puzzled.
"Because," I began, feeling like I deserved a story too, "I really hate you. You stole my damn portrait spot. That was MY spot. The one I've worked on for two months to secure!" I pointed to my chest in an exajerrated way. "It's not fair!"
Gerard started to roll his eyes, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? That's why you hate me? Because I took your spot?"
"Yes!" I replied, my volume growing, "I worked SO hard, and the first day in the class you took it with your stupid batman picture! I was so mad, I could have honestly killed you."
The young man began to smirk just like he had in the portrait. "That was a pretty bad portrait. I sucked on the mask. It looks like a dolphin or something," Gerard began to laugh, "It was so freaking bad." He put his hands over his eyes like he was suddenly feeling shy, but he was laughing too. I felt myself begin to laugh too. Gerard had a sense of humor. He could laugh at himself. That's a quality that I look for in people apon first meeting them. He could be my friend. I decided to go out on a limb.
"Are you my friend now?" I asked carefully, not really knowing what I was doing. I'd never done this before. Excitement flooded my veins. Gerard stopped laughing and looked up, arms still folded on his legs. He looked really confused, so I knew I had messed up somehow.
"You're really new to this aren't you?" He muttered, the look of happiness fading. I didn't know what he meant, and I felt my heart begin to sink. Slowly detaching myself from his gaze, I begin to recoil. "Wait," he said, quickly, "What I meant to say was, yeah.... I don't really have any friends." I looked back up.
"Niether do I," I started, smiling a little, "You, sir, are the very first."