Anatomy Of A Fall |Frerard

Chapter 4

That night, Gerard stayed up late and pondered running away, like Frank, maybe. Then his mom could live at the hospital, and Mikey would have company. But that'd make Mikey upset, and his mom, probably. Not to mention Gerard would probably die if he tried to go all caveman hermit in the woods. He couldn't figure it out, how to fix things, and wound upignoring his earlier plan to try and stay sober, tonight; he just wanted to stop thinking about Mikey in that stairwell, about Mikey lying alone in the dark hospital, wheezing in his sleep.

The next day at school, he was in a shit-awful mood, and he still didn't have his own bag, just Mikey's borrowed knapsack, disproportionately heavy on his shoulders and filled with dead pens.

He knew he was being a dick, scowling at everyone and answering everything in monosyllables. He was probably freaking out Ray and annoying Bob, but he couldn't quite help himself. Each heartbeat throbbed in his temples, like mutant Athenan elves were trying to drill out of his skull, and fucking Ted had spent all of History flicking white-out all over his Bowie hoodie, and Isaac had tripped him so that he fell down the stairs on the way to lunch and everyone fucking laughed. It was a fucking horrible, terrible, day and Gerard would rather chew his own face off than stay in Vermont another three seconds.

He didn't want to whine, though, not out loud, so he just sat quietly at lunch and stared at his plate of wilted lettuce and tried not to give into the urge to just lay his head on the rough wooden table and go to sleep forever. Patrick looked at him a little funny and broke off in the middle of a conversation about zithers to offer him some extra-dark chocolate and a handful of Excedrin.

"You sort of look like you want to die," he said sympathetically, and Gerard didn't think some candy and pills was going to make him feel any differently, really, but it was a nice thought. It was good to remember there were decent people here, that it wasn't all Ted and his goons and the high school staff from hell.

He even managed to perk up a little in Biology, where they were taking a break from dissection to watch a NOVA special on the "Missing Link," which was, by all reports, pretty cute. Like a shell-less ninja turtle with a fishy tail.

"He seems like a Michelangelo to me," Ray commented after Gerard shared this profound insight. "Maybe that giant bug can be Splinter?"

Gerard was about to hypothesize what Shredder would be—one of those armored fish with giant teeth, maybe?—but then the teacher shushed them both. Without a good conversation going, it was hard to stay awake. It was a gray gloomy day, the sun sulking behind the clouds, and the narrator was droning soothingly about lobes and lungs. Most of the class was asleep, slumped motionless over their lab benches, shadowed and faceless. Gerard thought Ray had passed out too, head lolling in one hand, but then he poked Gerard in the shoulder, making him jump.

"So, seriously," Ray whispered. The kid behind them twitched briefly, snorting in his sleep, and Ray lowered his voice even more. Well, as low as Ray's voice could get, anyway. "Tomorrow's Friday. You have to come to Bob's, okay? We're all gonna spend the night and play video games until we puke. You in?"

Gerard had been a fucking bitch all day, he knew he had been, and Ray was still grinning at him hopefully, still making conversation, inviting him to hang out. It was uncanny. Ray was seriously the nicest person Gerard had ever met, ever. Gerard bit his lip. He wasn't—he liked Ray, he did. It was just, he was crap with parties. Pete and Gabe had kept dragging him out to parties back in Jersey, but he'd always wound up that weird kid in the corner that picked over the bookshelves and drank all the tequila and couldn't keep up a conversation.

"Aww, c'mon, Gee. Come. Cooomme." And then Ray seemed to realize he was saying something potentially vulgar and waggled his eyebrows in delight, making a ridiculous leering face and an obscene hand gesture.