Hey, I texted, It's Frank.
I honestly wasn't expecting a response, but I wasn't surprised when I got one. I just wanted to have me in his phone so he wouldn't have to ask who it was if I called. I actually preferred calling to texting believe it or not. Unlike a majority of people in my class who texted in class constantly, resulting in a lot of confiscations. I felt the phone buzz again, reminding me I hadn't responded. I picked it up, turning my attention from my homework.
Hello, Frank. It's GW- but you probably already knew that :D
He was literally a kid. I laughed at the message and responded, still chuckling.
Yes, I did know that.
I waited a second before texting again.
Mind if I call? I prefer calling over texting.
Oh, really now? he responded, I will be seeing you tomorrow, you know.
I know, but everyone will be ahead of me with the project and I want to talk to you about my ideas!
Fine, he texted back, but you call. :P
Alright :)
It only rang twice before he picked it up. I leaned back in my desk chair and smiled, excited to share my ideas with my new (and only) friend. I tapped my pencil on the desk, getting my notes out to share.
"Hello," I could hear the smile in his voice.
"Hey," my smile obvious in my voice as well.
It felt good hearing someone other than my concerned mother on the other side.
"Don't 'hey' me, mister." He paused, "Well, how are you?"
"Excited, you?"
"I'm great. Excited, eh? About the project or calling me?" He teased.
"Haha... both. Well, one, this project is going to be the shit and, two, you are my only friend. So, yes, I'm excited to finally use this phone for more than just calling my mom when she forgets to pick me up from something."
He laughed, "I see. Usually, it's the salespeople who call me."
I laughed at that comment, "Looks like we have at least one thing in common. No one calls us."
I could hear him shift. The room didn't sound echoey when he did so, so I guessed he was in an office of some sort. I grabbed my notebook and he cleared his throat, signaling his subject change.
"So, you wanted to tell me your ideas?"
"Yes! Here's what I've written so far," I paused, finding the page, "No one quite knew who he was, nor where he came from, but something about him caused others to stare. Was it in hate? Was it in awe? Or perhaps in romantic interest? None of the above. You see, they didn't know why they stared. It was something about the way he walked, talked, and even glanced around as if he was being followed. This man was mysterious. He was dashing and was known by some only by his looks. But that was it. No one knew his name. No one knew where he lived. He just showed up one day as soon as people started spreading rumors about this one man in town."
He was quiet for a moment, processing it. He laughed, startling me, "Frank! My, my... What am I going to do with you?"
"You like it?"
"It's amazing. Where do you want to go with it?"
I heard a patter of feet in the hallway. I whirled my chair around just in time to see my mom open the door, "Frank, why are you on the phone, and on a Tuesday for that matter? Nevermind, who are you talking to?"
"A friend, ma."
"You don't have friends, tell me the truth."
I heard Mr. Way giggle on the other end, making me almost do the same. She noticed me smile, "Is it a girl?"
"No, Ma. I told you it's a friend."
She ignored me, "Is it a boy? You can always talk to me, your father and I will always accept you-"
"Mom," I whined, "I actually made a friend for once!"
He was in a fit of laughter on the other end, "Cut it out, will you!?"
"Frank Anthony Iero do not use that tone-"
"That wasn't for you, sorry. Give me a sec. Least let me say goodbye." I gave her a pleading look and she sighed, nodding.
"Be down for dinner. It's waiting."
"Alright, Ma." I sighed.
"This is the hardest I've laughed in awhile, Frank. Ah..." He sighed, "'Is it a boy?' That's when I lost it."
"Dammit, Way, my mom is gonna try to talk to me about my sexual orientation now, thanks," I whispered angrily.
He just chuckled, "Have a good night, Frank. Enjoy that dinner for the two of us."
"Who knows," I teased, half kidding, "maybe you can enjoy it yourself one day."
I ended the call and set my phone on my dresser. I went into the bathroom to wash up, washing my hands and splashing water on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. My long black hair had been dampened by some rogue water and, huh, funny. My cheeks were bright pink. I grabbed the towel and dried myself off, skipping down the stairs afterward, happy to finally get to eat something that wasn't bile inducing school food.
My mom and dad had already sat down and started eating. The meal tonight was Jenny's Famous Pasta, as my dad called it. I smiled at them, sitting down and digging in. I thanked my mother for the meal, of course, I'm not uncivilized. My mom and dad were quiet, which was trange, because most of our meals were loud and full of emotion. It was when we reflected on our day and laughed about the strange people who came into their shop. From the tense atmosphere, it was like they were going to announce Mom was pregnant, or that someone had died. Both of which seemed unlikely. I looked up at the wrong time from my plate, too. They were both staring at me. My smile faded. I didn't even know I had been.
"Frank, honey, your mom here says you were on the phone with a friend?" My dad started, cautiously.
"Yeah? What about it?" I said, taking another bite.
"Well, what's his name?" He offered.
"Gerard Way," I said, taking a sip out of my soda can.
It was a little on the flat side, but it tasted good nonetheless. I watched them process the name until their gears clicked and they exchanged a look. My mom just looked at her plate and Dad cleared his throat awkwardly, "The- the Creative Writing teacher?"
"Yeah...?" I said, trailing off into a question.
"He's a good man," Mom said quietly, "Not a surprise they bonded."
"Yeah," I smiled, "Everyone hates us. The Hated like each other and then become The Liked. He's cool. He plays classic rock all the time and throws markers at kids who talk while he is. He really likes my work. That's why I called. No one wanted to be my partner for a project, so he offered to be mine. I was telling him my ideas."
"He's nice to you, yeah?" My dad asked.
"Oh, definitely. I'm his favorite student. Even told me. Just today he stood up for me. Some kids tried to get me in trouble for something I didn't do. They had stolen my journal and drawn a picture of him in it with the word 'fag' under it. Needless to say, they all got detention." I chuckled at the memory.
I looked at them and they seemed a little tense, "What? He's not gonna hurt me. Like I said, he's cool. Trust me, guys. If anything were to happen, who would I tell first?"
"Us."
"Yes. So come on, now! Smile! Celebrate, I've finally made a friend. Even if it isn't one of my peers. You've always said I was mature and would probably be better situated with people older than me than of my own age, didn't you?"
They nodded.
The atmosphere started to loosen when Dad started talking about some dude who came in, asking if he knew 'that the president of Birkenstocks had just walked in his store and that we should be bowing down to him'. This town was batshit crazy.
It always made for a good story.