I got home from Jake’s well into the afternoon of the next day. My mother greeted me at the door and waved Jake off in his car without even questioning his ability to drive. She shut the door and pulled me into a hug, then stepped back and cupped my face in her hands. Her smile was deliriously happy. She picked up my bag and sorted it out for the clothes wash and then made us both a cup of tea.
“Jesus mum, you don’t have to make it quite so clear to me that my Deputy Head is so good in bed.” I said, rolling my eyes.
“James!” she gasped, blushing, but the happiness didn’t leave her eyes. “It wasn’t like that. We had a really lovely time, that’s all. We had dinner in a Spanish restaurant, then we went for a little walk, and-”
“Okay, mother, seriously. Spare me the details.” I said. She didn’t seem to mind though, she just zoned back into romance mode.
I mean, come on. Even if I was truly bisexual, I’d rather date Miley Cyrus if it saved me from dating someone like Mr Hughes. Smarmy git. I mean, it wasn’t as if he was good looking. He wasn’t bad looking, but not good looking.
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully and yet I wanted something, anything, good or bad to happen just to drag out the weekend just that little bit more. Monday mornings are the worst thing ever; back to school or work, back to getting up early even though all you want is those few extra minutes in bed…
So when Monday morning dawned and I didn’t get up before mum, she came into my room with a cup of tea. She sharply pulled the curtains apart, bathing my room with sunlight. I groaned and slumped further down under my duvet- but she simply threw a piece of ice under the covers with me before exiting the room. I shrieked as it touched my skin and threw the covers off me, jumping out of bed and nearly falling over. Once my heart had stopped pounding, I drank my tea and had a shower. Mum always said that having a shower would wake me up, but if I’m perfectly honest the heat of the water just makes me want to go back to sleep. It’s the coolness of the air once you’re out of the shower that wakes me up. And then I’m not happy. Because I’m cold.
I got dressed in a Foo Fighters t-shirt, red skinny jeans- just to mix things up a little- and my usual black Converses. I had packed my bag the night before and was at a loss as to how I could waste time before leaving for school. Mum, however, had other ideas, shooing me out of the house as soon as I was done. I knew why she wanted me to be early; she didn’t want a late mark on her son’s register, not a glitch wonderful Mr Hughes might see. Just to annoy her, even though she wouldn’t know, I dawdled down the street, making my legs refuse to walk in a straight line. I got many funny looks from commuters and one woman even muttered something about ‘teenage drinking these days…’.
Despite my best efforts to drag out the journey, I was still at school with twenty minutes to spare. I decided I would go and sort out my art folder as part of my coursework was due that day. I technically didn’t have proper art lessons; the school had said I could take A-Level art as well as my other subjects if I was taught during lunch or after school. The art block was completely empty- or so I thought until I entered my art room. The actual art room was empty but when I walked in I could hear the quiet crash of cymbals and distorted music through headphones. I poked my head round the corner to the Art Annex- a small room set aside for A-Level students to come and do artwork in their free time.
George was sitting at his desk in the corner of the Annex. His desk was neat and tidy but piled high with papers and as he hunched over it I could hear the faint scratches of a pencil on paper. I crept up behind him and pulled out his headphones, causing him to jump violently though, luckily, his artwork was unharmed.
“Jesus Christ, James- are you trying to kill me?” he snapped, clutching a hand to his heart dramatically.
“Nah- not until you’re rich and famous and we’re married.” I replied with a grin, kissing his cheek. I looked at the piece of paper he was working on. “Bloody hell, Gee, that’s amazing!”
He was working from a photo of Matt and Maisy. It was a natural shot, neither of them looking at the camera but instead looking into each other’s eyes and smiling. The pencil drawing George had done was a near perfect match, practically a photo itself, the only difference being the artistic way he had made the background smudge and fade, hazy so that Matt and Maisy really stood out.
“It’s not my best, but it’s alright I guess. I was hoping to give it to Matt instead of a birthday card, but thank god I gave myself a few months to do it. I evidently need to do more versions until a good one actually appears.” he answered, shaking his head.
We got into a brief argument over how amazing the drawing was; personally I could barely distinguish a difference between the photo and the drawing- background aside- whereas George insisted on pointing out nonexistent flaws, saying that Matt and Maisy’s features were all wrong and the shading was not quite right… Of course, he was being a perfectionist and talking utter shit but, you know, whatever.
I pulled a chair up to his desk and watched as he sighed, took out another piece of paper and began to draw again. His hand worked skilfully and carefully and moved across the page with lightening speed. It seemed impossible what he was doing but, sure enough, I watched as the photo was transferred onto the paper before my very eyes. It was incredible.
The bell for registration rang and George sighed again. He set down his pencil, making sure it was at a perfect right angle to a stack of his work, before hiding his drawing amidst the sheets. I put my chair back in its place and held my hand out, which he took. We held hands and walked until we got to the door and then we stepped apart. No-one at school should ever see us holding hands.
Rich was, once again, overly enthusiastic and overly stressed in music. When I’d first met him I had gotten his character all wrong; he had appeared to be quiet and reserved, in his own world of classic rock and metal music, when in fact he was a bubbly and rather hilarious person with a smile you couldn’t help but return. He grinned at me and George as we approached the music theatre stage, ready to work. George took his usual seat on a chair at the side of the stage whilst the rest of us plugged in our guitars. Bryan was smashing out a beat on the drums, as usual. He quietened down when Rich raised his eyebrows.
Just as we were about to play, George laughed and everyone turned to look at him. He raised a hand up in apology.
“Sorry, but I just have to do this… Well, are you ready Rich?” he asked. Rich grinned.
“Yeah…”
“How ‘bout you, Jake, James?”
“Oh, we’re there baby…”
“How ‘bout you, Matt, Bryan?”
“We’re fuckin’ ready!”
“Well I think I’m alright… One, two, three, FOUR!”
Instead of playing Vampire Money we burst out with The Sharpest Lives. It actually worked rather well with the spoken Vampire Money intro; the happiness of Danger Days playing off the bitterness of The Black Parade- something only a true MCR fan would understand.
George still refused to sing, which made me frown, but I couldn’t be distracted from playing my part. After the first time we played through the song, I looked up to the doorway where someone was applauding.
“You guys, that was pretty sweet.” Ms Brisley said, walking into the room. “You’re together on everything… does one of you have an IPod with the song on? So I can listen to the original?”
George offered her his black IPod Classic and she listened to the song and then made us play it again. She nodded.
“Yeah, it sounds great! Only one thing- George, what’re you doing?” she asked him.
“Oh, I’m going to sing.” he replied.
“Going to sing?”
“Yeah.”
“Why not now?” she asked, raising her eyebrows challengingly.
“…No mic…”
“There’s one over there.”
“…Fine.”
She went and sorted out the microphone, making George stand in centre stage. I could tell he was uncomfortable; maybe he just didn’t like to sing in front of people. Ms Brisley went and sat at the centre of the back row of chairs and looked at us expectantly. George looked at me, anxiety plain in his eyes. I stared back at him, willing him to remain calm. He turned back to Ms Brisley.
The bass started.
“Well it rains and it pours when you’re out on your own…”
I was too busy concentrating on playing my part correctly at first to pay much attention to what anyone else was doing, but by the chorus it was hard to ignore George.
“…Give me the shot to remember, and you can take all this PAIN AWAY FROM ME, your kiss and I will surrender, the sharpest lives are the DEADLIEST TO LEAD…”
His voice was one of a natural born singer. He had that perfect pitch to his vocals that most people needed auto-tuned. It was a voice that could range from high to low, it rang out and filled up your brain… but the second the song was finished, George fled from the room without looking back. I put my guitar on the ground and started to go after him but Matt shook his head.
“No, dude- leave him.” he said gravely.
He told us that George hadn’t sung in front of people for years because when he was a kid he was bullied. He’d been made to sing in class and the other boys made fun of him. George hadn’t believed in his voice after that- even though it was so amazing.
I sighed; yet another tale of bullies not knowing the damage their words could do.
I lovingly placed Ebony back in her case and stowed her safely away in the instrument room.
Second period I had no lesson so I went back to the Art Annex. Looking at George’s desk only reinforced how messy mine was. I had paper, paint pots, paintbrushes and pencils scattered everywhere. Nothing had a proper place for itself. The only thing that seemed to have a place was the small piece of artwork I was working on at the moment. It was nothing special. The task was to create a piece of art that showed emotion, not essentially expressionism but something like that. I sighed as I looked at my work. It was nowhere near as good as George’s.
Don’t you hate it when you think you’re good at something and then someone else is ten times better?
I screwed up the piece of paper and chucked it over my shoulder, not caring where it landed. I picked up some of my things and put them on the floor next to my desk to make room for a larger piece of paper before going to get oil pastels from the supply cupboard. Sat down, headphones in, ready to work.
I wanted to create something… shocking. Something that could catch your eye. Something that would stick in your brain whilst not being too upfront. Something that made you think.
All I came up with within the hour were some shitty scribbles. I tore the paper into little pieces in frustration and threw them up into the air until they showered me like snow. I was about to leave the Annex when I heard a commotion coming from the main room. Silently, I crept towards the doorway and poked my head around the corner.
Liam had Matt pinned against the wall and Matt was struggling against him. Every time he tried to move Liam would press his arm harder onto Matt’s neck.
“…so you listen to me, you little freak. You leave Maisy alone, ok?” Liam was saying, his voice deep and cold.
“But-”
“But, but, but! But nothing.” Liam said. He put even more pressure onto Matt’s neck, making him gasp and clutch frantically at Liam’s arm. His face turned red- Liam was cutting off his air supply.
“STOP IT! YOU’RE HURTING HIM! JUST… FUCK OFF!” I screamed before I could stop myself, surging forward out of my hiding place and shoving Liam away from Matt.
Matt slid down the wall and fell to the ground, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, one hand still on his throat. I knelt beside him as Liam stood up from where I had knocked him to the ground. I put Matt’s body protectively behind me, arms round him, and glared up at Liam as he towered over us. Matt whimpered.
“What… did you say to me?” Liam hissed, bending down so that his face was inches away from mine.
“I told you to fuck off.” I snapped back. He spat in my face and straightened up, turning on his heel and heading for the door. I felt Matt struggle up and as he tried to run after Liam I held him back
“WHY WOULD SHE EVER WANT YOU?” he screamed, and Liam turned and opened his mouth but then carried on walking away.
“Dude, calm down- it’s gonna be ok.” I told him, but his hands flew to the back of his head and his breathing became even more rapid and erratic.
So Liam wanted Maisy. This put Matt in a very awkward, potentially dangerous position. But Maisy would stay with him, right? Who would want a cruel jerk instead of someone sweet like Matt?
I told Matt that he should go home and he paused before nodding. I felt like I should go with him but I couldn’t really miss any more school. I thought that maybe I should tell George what was going on but I couldn’t find him anywhere.
The funniest thing that happened that day was when I walked past Mr Hughes and he didn’t- couldn’t- meet my eyes. I almost roared with laughter right in his stupid face. Then I remembered that he was possibly sleeping with my mother and got mad again. But mainly I just found the situation funny. If you think about it, I could use it to my advantage; he couldn’t really control me or put me in trouble anymore- not with my mother in the equation. God bless her.
At the end of the day I leant against my locker after stowing my books away and pulled out my phone. I paused before dialling George’s number, and that was when it started to ring.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey, James, it’s me.” George said. “Listen, d’you know what happened to Matt? He came home early a little while ago and just went straight up to his room. Now I can hear All I Wanted by Paramore and, let’s just say, I’m a little worried.”
“There was an… incident. With Liam.” I told him, and he started to panic so I fully explained what had happened.
“Ugh, I could’ve helped him! If only I wasn’t such a self-conscious twat!” he whined, exasperated.
“You can’t blame yourself! No-one could’ve predicted that this was going to happen! Who would ever imagine a complete fucktard like Liam would fall for sweet, awkward little Maisy?” I said. He sighed.
“I’m sorry for running out today.” he said.
“Why are you worrying so much? Look, I know what’ll cheer you up. We’ll go out tonight- just you and me, yeah?” I offered.
“Like… a date?” he answered eventually, his voice immediately happier. “The time before didn’t really count, did it?”
“Ok. This will be our first proper date.”