Babe, I'm a Classic Closet Case

welcome to this train wreck

I wore a brand new jersey as we drove into the state of New Jersey. I tried to be funny like that. A pun master, ironic disater. My humor was pretty advanced so my mom didn't laugh.

Jokes aside, she was nervous. She hadn't spoken a word since last night. I think she was nervous about returning to Belleville. I was born here, she split up with my father here, she left her friends here. It must be hard to come back. The only struggles I had to look forward to is another Catholic school.

The joy of being stuck with homophobes and closet cases was upon me. I was neither, about as straight as a bendy ruler. And let me tell you, you can't draw a straight line with one of those after a few bends and squishing it into a pencil case.

Belleville was apparently dangerous. Local parks a hot spot for finding dead bodies in the middle of the day. Kids didn't go out and play. It just wasn't done. I was thankful for the tattoos I already had despite only being 17. It made me look harder than the usual short dude. They were my main intimidation point, a saftey beacon. The other being my piercings. I had to have something to hide behind.

We finally stopped outside a house with a sold sign slumped on its wooden pegs hammered into the grass. A welcome to suburbia. It was only a 40 minute drive from New York but a major change of scenery. A familiar shade of yellow caught my eye a few houses down- police tape. Great. Somethings don't change.

I was grateful to see the house almost in order due to a trip mom took to set up before I came. There was slight disarray in the kitchen of pots that hadn't been homed and boxes half opened spread out around the room.

"You can go down to the basement and unpack, Frankie," my mom finally spoke, cutting the silence.

I nodded in response, dragging my suitecase behind me to the stairs.

This was the pull the house had. It was small with one bedroom but the basement made up for that. It was a large open space, seperated by only two interior walls, my room in the center, a bathroom to the left and a storage space and double doored exit to the right through a locked door.

My bed and a set of draws were already in place with boxes of my junk stacked neatly in the corner. It was going to be a long time unpacking. My suitcase only contained things needed for the two days I was without all this stuff and my guitar, wrapped in my new school uniform. I'd need to find the amps.

The next morning was the hard part. It was terrifying to wake to a 7 AM alarm in a dark unfamiliar room. It was nearpy pitch black except for my phone lighting up, telling me to wake. It casted shadows on the walls and the darkest places became darker. My breathing picked up, heart rate too fast as I used my phone light to find the swich of my lamp. I blew out a sigh of relief when I was flooded with light surroundings suddenly less sinister.

I rubbed my face, creating a mess of eyeliner on my hand. My hair even felt messy I didn't even want to see it. The uniform i had tossed to the floor was tugged on, with skinny jeans instead of dress pants and the shirt sleevs rolled up to show the only sleeves I enjoyed. My tattoos hardly qualified as sleeves yet, just outlines of what was to link the individual pieces scattered across my skin.

I pinned my cross to my tie, shoved my blazer in my bag before saying goodbye and walking down to the school. I walked like I was tall and confident despite feeling smaller than ever as I entered the building. The reception desk was the first thing I saw to my relief.

"I'm, uh... Frank Iero. I'm new..."

The receptionist looked at me with a touch of distaste. "I'll print off your timetable and have someone collect you for homeroom. Tighten your tie, blazer is compulsory to and from school and is not removed until first spell. Piercings out. Tattos covered. Cross pinned to blazer."

She clicked at her desktop before flouncing off behind a door. Ouch.

I adjusted my tie and pulled my crumpled blazer out of my bag and quickly corrected my uniform except for the piercings. At least she said nothing about my jeans.

She returned to thrust a printed map and timetable into my hands. "Take a seat. Someone is on their way."

As if her words had summond him, a lanky dude came through the door.

"Hat off, Michael." She snapped hardly glancing up.

He smiled sheepishly at me, "Hey Frank, I'm Mikey. Let's go."

We went back through the door he entered in and I found myself in a corridor lined with lockers. Miley didn't speak as we walked and stopped without warning.

"Your locker," he pointed at it after a moment of silence.

I mumbled awkwardly, internally smacking my forehead for not realising. I glanced at the neighboring lockers and noticed none had locks so I shrugged and tossed my bag in. Pulling out a ring binder and a pen. Mikey smailed and indicated that we should continue.

To my luck, homeroom was located at the next door we passed. Nice and close to my locker. Easy. Mikey lead the way in and the class was quiet. It wad blatantly a mix of all years and gender with a sole teacher leading them.

"Hey, Frank Iero Junior! Welcome! Take a seat. I'm Brian, your homeroom teacher." Okay, so a first name basis within 30 seconds.

"Just Frank," I smiled.

Mikey pulled over a chair completely ignoring the teacher, placing it between his own and a guy with an afro. I hesitantly sat between him. The fake confidence had left me.

"This is Ray, Alicia, Bob and my brother Gerard," Mikey indicated around the table as he introduced. "You may have worked out that ages are mixed in here."

I nodded quietly and Alicia requested to see my timetable, stating that she was also a senior. Bob hovered over her reading it too. I glanced at Gerard noting his pale skin and light regrowth against the black. He didn't look away from his phone.

"We have English, bio and chem together," she said passing the paper to Gerard, who finally looked up from his phone.

"We have art and music together." He barely looked at it.

The paper went back to my hands only to be snatched out of my grip. I turned to see a guy in tighter jeans than mine with black hair straightened into his eyes that appeared more natural than Gerard's dye job due to the guy's olivey skin.

"And I'll show you the way to religious studies and I'm with you and Geebaby for music," he smirked down at me, ignoring an apathetic sigh from Gerard. "We are in for a wonderful semester, Frankie boy," he laughed a little, leaving us.

"And that was Pete," Mikey huffed. "He can be an asshole."

I shrugged trying to show my lack of bias as I glanced around, meeting Pete's gaze. He winked before turning back to his own tables discussion.

My own table had began a discussion about Brian, the homeroom teacher whi had just walked out to set up his next class.

"Brian's the head of the music department. It's why he only uses his first name," Ray explained before launching back into the gossip about him.

I glanced at my own phone. It was 8:54, six minutes before art. I yawned slightly. I would only just be getting out of bed now for school at 9:30. This was shaping up to be a long day.

"I better get going, lot of stairs to climb," Gerard rose out of his seat.

"Hey! Take Frank with you, asshole. He won't find the art rooms," Mikey protested.

Gerard said nothing, looking at me almost asking if I was coming with out saying a word. I picked up my binder and stood. He lead the way out.

AN: ok hi kids im a trash boat with a trash new kid au um i just wanted to write really and take my mind off and here i am

I have daydreams playing in my mind about where to go from here so yeah