.ŵēłçømē tø bēłłēvīłłē hīgh. // frerard [DISCONTINUED]

1

I'm worse at what I do best,

And for this gift I feel blessed,

Our little group has always been,

And always will until the end.

TW // slight mentions of drug use & perversion

Tuesday 8th March 2007

Today was my first day at Belleville High.

I'd moved all the way from Wisconsin just this week because my mom had suffered a split with my dad and he, quote, "didn't want to be anywhere near her for as long as he lived". His resolution for this problem was moving away.

981 miles away.

So now we live at number 16 Cemetery Drive in Belleville, New Jersey (AKA The Dullest Place On The Face Of The Earth) along with my grandfather, also Frank Iero, and twin brother Anthony.

I'm in 12th grade so pretty much my last year in high school and then freedom as I'm not going to college.

Screw that!

I'm determined to go to music school instead of college. I play guitar, bass, drums and I sing a little so I think I've got a good chance in a music-based career.

I've been in bands before. The most successful one was probably Pencey Prep; we got signed to a local record label held in a the manager's mom's basement called Eyeball Records and brought out our first album. However, it hardly sold and there were problems within the band so we had no choice but to split.

Anyway, my first day was better than expected. To be honest, I basically imagined the worst to happen; that I would get beaten to a pulp for being "too different" and... being gay...

Yes, okay.

I'm gay.

I'm not that stereotypical gay, however.

I don't have diva-moments or obsess over the colour pink or have days out with my "girlfriends" where we just shop.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Now that that has been discussed, we can actually talk about how today went. Or, rather, I can tell you about how today went since this is a one-way thing here.

When I arrived at Belleville High, I wasn't very sure about the place. It quite clearly needed a coat or two more of paint and the grass looked like it hadn't been cut in months. The "Welcome" sign wasn't as welcoming as intended due to the graffiti littering it and the students smoking all sorts of terrible smelling shit behind the sign itself.

I finally built up the courage to march inside.

I say that I marched in there but that is the wrong word as it seems much too confident for my liking.

I actually just stepped inside with my head down, waiting for a toweringly intimidating jock to walk over to me and slam me into the nearby lockers, punching me in the face several times.

However, quite the opposite occurred and a kind-looking girl tapped me on the shoulder.

She had hazel eyes that had been outlined with pink and blue eyeshadow.

The girl straightened out her sleeves and gave me a sweet, lipgloss smile before shuffling around in her pastel Doc Marten's and holding out her hand for me to shake.

I looked up from my eternal gaze at the tiled school floor and the unusual girl smiled wider, showing off her white teeth. "Hey, I'm Hayley! Hayley Williams!" She said, holding out a hand.

I shook it and replied shyly but friendly, "Frank Iero. I'm new here, it's my first day."

"Oh, I know. I was called in by the principal to give you a tour and walk you to your classes. I think my schedule is pretty similar to yours too."

"Cool," I smiled awkwardly.

"We have half an hour until we have to be at registration. Let the tour begi--," she was cut off by a boy in black attire pushing into her visibly on purpose.

"Dang, Hayley! Could your skirt get any shorter?" He smirked and she rolled her eyes and sighed. "What's wrong? Not in the mood?"

"Piss off, Gerard," she scowled.

"Alright, alright, I'm leaving!" He held his hands up in response and walked away.

He was beautiful.

From what I caught of him he wore a black leather jacket, a Misfits shirt, huge, black leather boots that laced up his ankles, tight, black, ripped jeans and a shitload of bracelets that covered the gap between is obviously outgrown, tight jacket.

He was slightly tanned with hazel eyes and a black mid-neck-length mop of hair. He wore heavily applied black eyeliner and had a chain from his jeans pocket to his belt. He didn't have any piercings or tattoos and looked around my a-- ok, Frank, I think you're already a little too obsessed!

What I was perfectly sure of, however, was that his smirk, that smirk, was contagious and had me under some sort of love spell because nothing else seemed to matter after that.

I think I liked him and I didn't even know his last name.