Chapter Text
Frank was completely positive that his mother had chosen for them to move to Aurora of middle of fucking nowhere Oregon because she wanted him to disappear like a large portion of this population did annually. His mother resented him, she absolutely had to. That was the one way to completely explain why she’d torn him from their beautiful, tiny home in Belleville, New Jersey, driven him all the way across the fucking country in their shitty station wagon with no AC, and forced him into a tiny, two bedroom, one bathroom apartment in a town with unreliable running water, and too many fucking backwood hicks to be humanely excusable. She had to want him to go missing just like the rest of the fucking kids in this town. Adults, too.
Frank had googled the town before they moved (since Aurora had near no cellular connection and they couldn’t afford that fancy, middle-of-nowhere wifi), and seen that the number of disappearances were at such crazy fucking amounts that Frank had been a little shocked no media had done an extensive report.
“The kids just run away,” his mother had explained tiredly as she’d filled the car with gas they couldn’t really afford. “None of them are hurt. I’m sure they contact their families and the families just don’t bother to update the authorities.”
“I’m gonna be kidnapped and you’re gonna celebrate when I’m gone,” Frank accused coldly. His mother just looked sad and didn’t say anything as Frank went into the gas station to buy some gum. They were in Idaho now, a good seven fucking hours away from their destination, and Frank had spent the past couple days listening to his outdated CD player and trying not to reach across the dash and yank the steering wheel, sending the car into a ditch or, more preferably, an oncoming semi. Anything to get them off course and away from fucking Aurora.
“Will you laugh when they find my body?” Frank asked when they were just an hour to the Oregon state crossing line. “Will you call your friends back home and tell them you succeeded? Will you recommend they do the same to their kids? To my friends? Bob and James?”
“I’m your mother, Frank,” she said, voice weary and dragged down by something broken.
“You’re ashamed of me because I ruined your life,” Frank said.
“You didn’t ruin anything, baby.”
“Don’t call me that,” Frank snapped before putting his headphones back in and pressing play on the Anthrax CD he’d bought before leaving home. “You want me dead.” He was being one of those stupid fucking teenagers, saying words to the person who loved him that he would regret if he ever made it past twenty five. But this was the present, he was pissed and hurt and he knew his mother hated him enough to take him to a place where he’d either go missing forever or be found as a corpse.
Frank stared at the sign with unhindered loathing. The population wasn’t even larger than a thousand fucking people, and there were trees everywhere and of course mother dearest had chosen to move in the beginning of fall, when the cold started to seep into the northern hemisphere. Frank didn’t mind the cold when he was in Jersey, but this place? It was a cold, wet, terrible place. He was going to die here, he knew it.
“Is this our house?” he asked with a bitter edge. “Really?” It was a shitty thing, barely bigger than a mobile home. It was in the middle of about a mile or so of property that Frank assumed they now owned. There was visible decay on the front of the house and Frank was willing to bet money that the hardwood floors matched the hardwood walls. He’d seen places like this on TV, where people were hoarders and destroyed their lives and the lives of others.
God, this was such a nightmare. Frank was sure the floor was warped with water and there was probably mold in the corner of the ceilings. Frank was starting school the next day, a month into the regular kids’ schedule, so he was going to be the odd one out with dark clothes worthy of the fucking ghetto and a backpack covered in his own blood from the time he’d gotten his nose nearly crushed into his face by some asshole looking for drug money.
Frank grabbed his backpack that was stuffed with the few things he actually liked from his old room and stormed into the house, into the smaller bedroom, and didn’t come out for the rest of the night. Instead, he kicked the bed a couple hundred times, slept on the floor, and tried to imagine anything but awfulness happening in this room.
He didn’t succeed
. . .
“I love you, Frankie,” his mother said softly as she handed him a sack lunch and five dollars. Frank didn’t take the lunch, but he did take the money. His stomach hurt and his backpack was practically weightless his shoulders. He was about to be thrown to the wolves and his mother thought it would be funny to lie to him.
North Marion High school. Home of the Huskies.
Frank glowered at the brick building with all the greenery in the front and tried not to physically gag. He didn’t eat breakfast for a reason, and this was one of them— the anxiety and the stomachaches always mixed together like poison in his belly. He was already going to be the new kid; he didn’t want to be the new kid that puked all over his shoes on the first day. The student body was something like five hundred or less and nearly everyone was inside already, probably due to the light sprinkle of water falling from the sky. Frank grimaced and tugged at one of the straps of his backpack before trudging inside. There were groups of kids all sitting on the ground, against lockers, everyone chatting amongst themselves. Only a few looked up at Frank, but none of them outwardly stared. That was surprising.
The front office was clearly marked, but the final bell went off before Frank got his schedule. Fan-fucking-tastic. That meant that there would be no one around for him to go to should he be in desperate need of direction to his classes. Frank just sighed and left the office and did his best to figure it out on his own.
He spent the first day eating lunch alone, watching all the teachers with a guarded expression, and realizing he was above average intelligence in this town. At least he wouldn’t fail out of his grade. Being a Junior was hard enough in Jersey. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was going be here.
At the end of the day, he left the building, head low, not making eye contact with everyone like he had been for almost the entire day until one kid, much taller than him, passed him and said, “Nice shoes, dude. The Misfits are underrated.”
Frank watched this kid go with wide eyes and wondered if it would be stupid to smile to himself.
. . .
“Are you new here?” the same kid from yesterday asked as he approached the high school from the same sidewalk as Frank. Frank’s eyes went a little wider, but he tried to keep his cool. He was exhausted. He’d gone home th tother day and hid in his room until it had been time for him to go to school again. He hadn’t even eaten, so his stomach didn’t hurt so much.
“Pretty new,” Frank said, denying himself a witty retort. If you had to ask if someone was new, they were probably fucking new.
“Where are you from?” the kid asked, looking ahead as he walked. Frank took the chance to check him out, give him a once over like he was ready for a fight. The kid was tall and skinny as a fucking twig, and his hair was dark brown and curling around his face. He was wearing a dark green v-neck with a lack hoodie and Converse and there were bruises under his eyes. There were a couple buttons on his satchel (a fucking leather satchel, fucking really?), but most of them were too faded for Frank to make out.
“Belleville,” he responded.
The kid nodded. “I’ve always wanted to go to Canada.”
“What?” Frank frowned. “No, no, Belleville, New Jersey.”
“Oh.” The kid shrugged. “Just as far.”
“How do you know about a place in Canada?” Frank had to ask.
“I know a lot of things about places that aren’t here.” The kid glanced to him. “My name’s Ryan.”
“Frank,” Frank replied.
“Frank,” Ryan repeated. “Nice to meet you. Have anyone to eat lunch with yet?” When Frank shook his head, he nodded. “Me and my friends usually eat in the courtyard, under one of the awnings. Just look for some punk ass kid with eyeliner and a short little thing and I’ll be next to them.”
Frank let out this little noise, a bit shocked. Kids in Jersey weren’t nearly this accepting of a new face. Then again, a lot of the kids had stared down the barrels of funs from young ages. Most of them were pretty old for their ages.
“You look like you’re thinking of something bad,” Ryan said. “Do you do that often? Just zone out during a polite conversation with another person?” Ryan snorted. “Why’d you even move here?”
Frank shrugged. “Probably something to do with my priest.”
“Your priest?”
“My mom is very Catholic,” Frank explained. “She didn’t do anything without getting his advice.”
“That sucks,” Ryan said. “She’ll probably start attending church here. Nearly everyone does, at least one day of the week.”
“Do you?” Frank didn’t care if that was too personal.
Ryan snorted. “No. My dad doesn’t believe in a god. Neither do I.”
Frank looked forward and saw they were in front of the school. “I’ll see you for lunch.”
Ryan parted ways with a wave.
. . .
“Dude, hey,” Ryan greeted as Frank approached with a carton of chocolate milk and nothing else. Ryan was leaning against a steel support of a metal grate awning with two other boys standing next to him. It was raining pretty fucking hard and literally everyone else was sitting in the spacious and warm cafeteria inside.
“Why are you guys outside while it’s pouring?” Frank asked. The one with the eyeliner smirked and held up a smoking cigarette that lit up his fingertips. Frank snorted. “So you guys are the real delinquents of this town, aren’t you?” he asked, voice dripping in obvious sarcasm. The boy with the eyeliner laughed and Ryan smirked, shaking his head.
“Pete likes to smoke,” Ryan said. “We just don’t leave him alone out here in case he gets fucking nabbed.”
“So kidnappings are a thing around here,” Frank murmured.
“Oh, absolutely,” eyeliner-boy said. “Last one was only three years ago. Two guys were hanging out around the woods behind the church. One of them showed up, days later, beaten to hell, while the other is just gone.”
Ryan was watching the eyeliner-boy silently. “...Frank, this is Pete,” he said, gesturing to Mr. Eyeliner. “The guy next to him, with the trucker hat? The one who likes to imagine he’s invisible. That’s Patrick.” The one with the trucker hat narrowed his eyes at Ryan in a grumpy way and Frank instantly liked him because he was short. Pete was pretty short too, same height as Frank, probably, but not like this. Patrick was shorter than him and that made his fucking day.
“Ry said you’re from Jersey,” Pete said as he blew smoke from his lips. They were girly lips. “What’s that like? Is it anything like Vegas?” Pete looked to Ryan when he asked that.
“How the fuck should I know if it’s like Vegas?” Ryan snorted. “I’ve never been to Jersey.”
“You’re from Vegas?” Frank asked.
Ryan just shrugged. “Pete, finish that cig,” he said. “We’ve got ten minutes left in lunch. I’m not too keen on being late to Beckett’s class again.”
“You just wanna play the piano and show off,” Pete snickered. “Who’s in that class? Fuck, Ry, I still can’t remember your schedule and it’s been a month.”
“You were in my econ class yesterday,” Patrick said to Frank. “After lunch, we can walk there together.”
Pete looked to Patrick with a pout. “What about me?”
Patrick snatched the cigarette from Pete’s hand and stomped it into the wet concrete. Pete stared at the cigarette, then looked up at Patrick. Frank nervously waited for him to get angry, but Patrick wasn’t backing down either, challenging Pete’s stare with his own. Pete then slowly smirked and waggled his brow at Patrick. “Later,” Pete said.
Frank frowned and looked to Ryan, but Ryan wasn’t looking at any of them. He was looking to the woods.
“Pat and I are gonna go to the bathroom really quick,” Pete said. “Be back in a second.”
Ryan and Frank didn’t say a word until Pete and Patrick got back, but oddly enough? Frank didn’t mind. He was too busy watching this other boy slink behind the building, a boy with long, black hair that stuck to his face and a black sweater that was too big for his body.
. . .
The same kid was in his last class of the day. He had large cheeks of lingering baby fat and sunken in eyes with a sharp jaw and chubby fingers. His hair was greasy despite the fact that he’d been soaking wet just a few hours before. Frank watched the way the boy drew in the top left corner of all of his school papers. A ton of monkeys and space monsters and stuff. He’d flip to the next page of the packet they were reviewing just for more space, like he didn’t dare stray from the left corner. Frank didn’t listen to most of the class simply because he was right next to the kid.
Frank squinted at the name the kid wrote on the paper and read “Gerald.” Weird name.
At the end of the day, he went home again and avoided his mother.
. . .
“Hey,” Ryan greeted as they met at the same point down the sidewalk on the way to school. “I think you only live a property line or two away from me.”
Frank was a little intrigued. “So we’re neighbors? At least a little?”
“Something like that,” Ryan snorted. “You should come over to my place after school today. You probably don’t have a single fucking friend here, so I thought I should get to know you before I start treading into that amicable territory. Plus, there’s some shit you should know about this place. This fucking town.” He looked around with a grimace. “It’s a place with a couple more stories that I think you should know.”
“Kidnappings aren’t so bad,” Frank lied.
“Kidnappings aren’t the half of it,” Ryan said. “Come sit with us for lunch again. Patrick likes you because you don’t talk too much. He gets a little tired of someone constantly running their mouth like Pete.”
“How’d you guys even become friends if Patrick hates Pete so much?”
Ryan laughed. “Patrick hating Pete? Hardly.”
Frank frowned as the got to the school.
“Meet us for lunch,” Ryan said. “And hang out with me after school. It’ll be fun. Or something close.”
. . .
“You’ve got a date with Ryan after school,” Pete snickered as he smoked his apparently customary cigarette. Ryan rolled his eyes and Patrick kicked Pete in the shin. Frank just tried not to show that the comment had him inwardly freaking out.
. . .
Gerald wasn’t even in class today. Frank wasn’t sure why he cared.
. . .
“Are we on a date?” Frank asked the second he and Ryan started walking back to Ryan’s place. Ryan choked on a laugh and shook his head.
“Don’t listen to Pete,” he told Frank. “Really, just don’t. He’s an asshole that likes making people flustered, it’s like his secret turn on or something.” Frank was still staring at him. “… We’re not on a date, dude, I promise. See, there’s this cool thing called “friends” that two guys can be with each other. It usually entails sharing Doritos and recommending porn to each other.”
“You won’t like my porn,” Frank said.
Ryan arched a brow. “Kinky?”
“Something like that.”
Ryan nodded. They ended up walking up a long dirt road surrounded by trees. Frank looked up and watched the water slide from the leaves. There was a small lull in the rain that Frank was only just realizing he needed to get used to. He honestly missed Jersey so fucking much. It was dark and dreary and hopeless there, but at least he saw the sun once a day.
“You gotta meet my dad first,” Ryan told him. “He’s got PTSD, so he doesn’t like anyone being on the property without him know who they are. He’s not a dick or anything, just, like… stunted.”
“I don’t know much about dads,” Frank confessed.
“You don’t have to.”
They approached a really nice house with blue paint and white shutters and Frank was a little surprised. He figured it had to take a lot of fucking work to keep the place up to these standards. It was amazing to think someone could keep everything looking so nice and well kept when it rained so fucking much. Ryan led him inside into a cozy living room that was pretty bare, but not in a way that made Frank feel like it was uninhabited. A man was in the kitchen, tall with strong shoulders and a buzzcut, and Frank was a little nervous to keep going into the house until Ryan gently said, “Hey, Dad.”
The man looked up, dishes clattering like he’d been surprised. Then his expression softened when he recognized Ryan, but instantly hardened when he saw Frank. “Who is this?”
“My new friend,” Ryan said, acting cool and collected. “Frank. He’s a new kid from Jersey. I was gonna take him out back and we were just gonna hang out and get him caught up on some schoolwork.”
The man stared Frank down, expression calculating and cold. Then he sighed. “Is he staying for dinner?”
“Yeah,” Ryan said before Frank could speak up.
The man nodded. “Just don’t make him stay too late. No walking out after dark. Tomorrow’s Friday and you’ve got that Bio exam.” Mr. Ross nodded to Frank. “Help my boy study. He gets distracted easily. Should’ve taught him a little discipline, but it all went into the damn guitar.” His expression sounded more fond than disappointed, so Frank didn’t feel very uncomfortable from the comment. “Grab some snacks or something before you go. God knows you kids don’t eat the food the school gives you.”
“That shit’s poison, dad,” Ryan snorted. The man just waved him off and Frank was in awe of how Ryan had gotten away with cursing in front of his parent. “Let’s go out back,” Ryan said, leading Frank through the house to the backdoor. Frank almost stumbled when he saw what was outside.
Greenery was everywhere, as was apparently normal to this town, but there was a garden, too. Vines grew to the sky and fresh soil gave way underneath Frank’s feet. The trees had lingering fruit, there were flowers everywhere, and a beautiful little fountain in the middle of a stone path. The yard kept going for ages into well kept woods, but Frank was a little disheartened to realize that all of this beauty was going to die soon.
“My dad likes to work in the yard,” Ryan explained as he walked. Frank looked to Ryan and saw he had some food in his arms. Frank wondered where it had come from. “It helps him feel a lot better. He’s got a lot of problems and stuff, so working in the garden and having dirt in his hands helps him feel like he has a little bit of control.”
“You seem to like your dad a lot,” Frank commented as they walked into the woods.
“My dad’s good to me,” Ryan said. “He lets me do my own shit and be my own person. He’s also pretty accepting. I’m kinda sad we had to move from Vegas, but this place is good for him. Being on his own and with the ground is good for him. It’s cool— he lets other kids come and hang out back here. Even lets the football team toss the ball around when the school is closed.”
“Why does he do that?” Frank asked.
“Because this town is dangerous and no one wants their kids playing outside, unsupervised,” Ryan explained. “My dad, though— he keeps an eye on them. On everyone.” Ryan smiled softly. “He’s a good man.” Ryan stopped walking. “Wanna go first?”
Frank frowned. “Go where?”
Ryan arched a brow, then glanced up. Frank followed his gaze. Then his eyes shot wide.
It was the coolest tree house Frank had ever seen, like something you’d see on the TLC channel. It looked like it was three different rooms all connected, and there was a second tree house in the next tree over that had a wooden bridge slung between them. A rope ladder was high above Frank’s head, but there were obvious branches cut out that you could climb to reach the ladder.
“This was here when my dad and I first moved in,” Ryan explained as Frank started to climb. Frank had never climbed a tree before. “He fixed it up for me. He wants to put a generator at the bottom and give me a microwave and shit, but I think it’d be too loud. I don’t wanna disturb the peace. Or draw attention to myself.”
Frank hoisted himself up into the tree house and grinned. “Are you a hippie?” He had to ask. There were rugs everywhere, expensive ones with the weird designs. Prayer flags were strung across the ceiling with fairy lights and there was a couch and two bean bag chairs and a record player in the corner. There were a couple framed photos on the walls and a bookshelf covered an entire wall, filled with books and records and a single laptop. Ryan joined him a couple moments and Frank laughed. “This is kinda, uh…”
“Gay?” Ryan snorted. “Fuck if I care. This is my place and I get my friends up here and we don’t give a shit about anything.”
“It’s nice,” Frank said. He sat in one of the bags and squirmed to get comfortable. “So do we—”
“You can’t go out alone at night,” Ryan said. “I’m gonna walk you home. I’m gonna have my dad let me take his knife if it really is too dark.”
Frank snorted. “I thought you’d said this wasn’t a date?”
“This is serious,” Ryan said, expression set. “People die out here, Frank, or worse. Everyone has lost someone to whatever is out there.”
Frank faltered. “I-I’d thought kids were just running away.”
“Four year olds don’t run away a d never come back without something awful happening.”
“There’s been a four year old?”
Ryan nodded. “Casey Hale. Her mother went inside to get the lemonade. Her son, fifteen, had been outside with Casey. He’d suddenly started screaming and she ran outside to see Casey disappearing into the woods. Her son was bleeding from the ears. No one saw Case again.”
“But that was ages ago, right?” Frank asked.
Ryan paused. “… That was last week.”
Frank blanched. “W-what the fuck? Why the fuck hasn’t anyone left? Why do people still live here?”
Ryan shook his head, grimacing. “Would you believe me if I told you that Mrs. Hale has already stopped looking for her daughter? People don’t forget, but… I think adults forget to feel. Like there’s something making them tired.” He sighed. “It happens so often. Maybe people just are too scared to leave their homes. No one likes change, right? And a lot of people probably have nowhere to go.”
“You just suggested two completely different things there,” Frank pointed out.
“I’m not some paranoid crock like others around here,” Ryan huffed. “The world isn’t out to get us yet.”
“Yet,” Frank snorted.
“You’ve got to be careful out there,” Ryan continued. “You don’t walk anywhere on your own unless it’s earlier in the morning, when the sun is first rising. Any other time of day is a risk. You should always walk home with me from school and shit. I’ve honestly been pretty stupid and going by myself too and Patrick’s always on my ass about it.”
“Patrick seems like a mom,” Frank commented.
“There’s a lot of things you shouldn’t do after dark,” Ryan said, basically ignoring Frank’s comments. That was okay. His comments were dumb to cover up how uncomfortably nervous he was becoming about this new place. “You shouldn’t make jokes about evil shit kidnapping people. You shouldn’t be alone. You should get some pepper spray or something, a-and you should definitely listen for sirens. If you hear sirens, you walk in the opposite fucking direction. You do not investigate. Curiosity kills the cat, and no one bothers to bring it back.”
“When we moved here, I accused my mom of choosing Aurora so I would disappear from her life forever,” Frank said, slight remorse tinging his tone. “I was being a dick. But now that I know all this shit, I-I don’t know if I was being dramatic or not.” He sighed. “Does anyone older ever get taken?”
Ryan shrugged. “No one really knows. There are old locals that die in their sleep with blood from their eyes. No one knows how it happens, really, cause autopsies are a lot of money. They just burn them or drop them in the ground. Sometimes a wayward crazy person will stop coming to the supermarket one day, but no one actually knew where they lived in the first place, so who could check?”
“Are you scared of dying?” Frank asked.
Ryan faltered. His gaze flickered to a picture frame, but there were too many for Frank to be able to discern which particular one he’d been looking at. “… I don’t know.”
“Do you think it’s a person?” Frank asked. “Or something dangerous around here? Maybe a hole in the ground? Or an animal? What about a person with a trained animal? Or what if they just walk forever and ever until they bleed to death from their feet?”
“Like in X-Men?” Ryan asked. Frank was a little surprised Hollywood had reached this far into the woods. “Fuck, Frank, literally no one knows, and no one bothers to call the cops outside this town anymore. They just report it to the paper, do a search for a while, and then give up. There’s no hope to get these people back. People are hopeless here, okay? They don’t bother wasting resources on people that will never be found. They just keep to the curfew and cross their fingers.”
“God, what a way to live,” Frank breathed.
“Hold on for the ride,” Ryan said. “You’re gonna live like this for the next two years, at least. You said your mom is religious, right?” Ryan grimaced when Frank nodded. “A bunch of psychos. The priest himself, Father North? He’s pretty okay. He’s nice. But the actual people attending are certain that our town is cursed. They pray to their god, begging him to spare us or whatever. They think they’re gonna save the town.”
“They’re crazy, right?” Frank had no idea if they were crazy or not.
Ryan paused. “… It depends.” Frank had no idea what that meant. “God, Frank, I don’t wanna fill your head with crazy stories. I’ve been trying not to do that. I can tell you what I know, but not what I think is happening because I don’t know anything for sure.”
“So did you just bring me up here to freak me out?” Frank asked, a wild edge to his voice. “Fuck, I-I’ve only been here, like, three fucking days! What the fuck is this place? Why the fuck hasn’t anyone just evacuated and everyone bombed the town yet?”
“Fuck if I know,” Ryan sighed. “Look, I just… Wanted to warn you. So you didn’t do anything you aren’t supposed to do. Honestly, I kinda just wanted to hang out with you.” Ryan shrugged when Frank looked to him with an expectancy for Ryan to explain. “Patrick and Pete are awesome, and I’ve got other friends, but I’ve lived here for about five or six years and I just… Want something new. And you’re new. You’re cool. You’re interesting. Like getting a new book, but the book is a human, so who the fuck cares, right?”
“I’m a science experiment, and you’re in the observational stage,” Frank snorted.
“If you wanna be a psychopath, sure,” Ryan said. “I just say what I’m thinking. And I wanna make a new fucking friend, so sit down and read fucking comic books with me, then play video games after dinner. Deal?” Frank hadn’t noticed the stack of worn comics in the corner.
“Deal.” Frank said.
. . .
“You boys get any studying done?” Mr. Ross asked, looking between the two boys with a tired sort of curiosity. Ryan snickered into his hand and Frank had to work really hard at schooling his expression.
“We sure did study something,” Ryan said, glancing across the table to Frank, who was thinking of the same thing. Studying the homoerotic moments between Scott Summers and Logan, more like.
Mr. Ross sighed and shook his head. “Good thing you’re smart, kid, or you’d get nowhere.”
Ryan just laughed.
. . .
As Ryan walked him home, Frank looked down the only dirt road that separate his house and Ryan’s house. There was a good two miles between their separate properties, but only one residence between them. “Whose house is that?”
Ryan’s expression fell into something haggard. “That’s the house of the Way family,” he said, sounding a little stiff. “Good people. Bad circumstances.” Ryan looked back ahead. “Used to be really good friends with their older son until he kinda just… Went into his shell. After a bad thing that happened.”
Frank stared down the dirt road that was almost overgrown with trees. “… Did someone get kidnapped?”
Ryan shook his head. “No. Not forever. They came back, but might as well have been dead.” Ryan’s jaw visibly clenched. “We shouldn't talk about it. It’s a really sore subject at school.”
Frank just nodded and hurried to keep up with Ryan’s pace.
. . .
“I fucking failed that exam,” Pete moaned, arms wrapped around Patrick’s neck like he was looking for sympathy. They were sitting at a table inside, for once, and Frank appreciated the warmth, but the chattering student body was a little louder than the falling rain outside. “God, Pattycakes, why can’t you teach me how to be a genius?”
“Ryan got a higher score than me,” Patrick pointed out.
“Ryan doesn’t love me like you do,” Pete retorted easily, kissing Patrick’s neck, who grimaced and flipped Pete off. “C’mon, Pat, just let me copy your homework until we’re out of this hellhole and everything will be okay. I’ll graduate and follow you to university and we’ll never be apart. We’ll take the world by storm, Patrick and Pete, P-P.”
“Fuck you, we’re not urine and I’m not helping you cheat,” Patrick deadpanned. Frank snorted a laugh.
The room suddenly got rowdier and Frank looked up as a group of boys all clambered into the room, hooting and hollering and freaking out, getting in line for lunch and shoving each other around. Frank grimaced. “Who’s that?”
Pete glanced away from Patrick for only a moment. “Football team. The only reason anyone leaves their homes on Friday nights.”
A boy split off from the football team and came towards their table, grinning wide with bright pink hair and tons of fucking energy. He stopped beside Ryan’s seat, facing everyone with the broad smile. Patrick nodded politely to the guy, but Pete absolutely beamed.
“Joshy!” Pete greeted, standing and doing some complicated handshake with him. Joshy laughed and looked down at Ryan, then drew his gaze to Frank, and his brow shot up.
“You’re the new kid!” Joshy exclaimed. He stuck out his hand. “Josh Dun.” Frank only took it so that way Josh would shut up and leave sooner. He hadn’t sat down yet, which was a good sign. “I just wanted to come by and invite all of you to the game! We’re all pretty fucking excited and it’d be cool to see some familiar faces in the stands.”
“Literally everyone you know and their mother goes to these games,” Ryan grumbled. Josh heard him and laughed uncomfortably hard at the joke.
“Shit, Ryan, you’re so funny,” Josh giggled, resting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan didn’t exactly push it away and that was weird. “You should totally be there tonight, Ryan, it’d be awesome to know you were in the stands. Definitely a moral boost. Been wanting you to come to a game for a long time.” Frank’s brow shot up. Pete was grinning like an idiot as Josh basically declared some sort of long-lasting affection for Ryan, while Ryan was one hundred percent oblivious. “Hope to see you guys there!” Josh said, leaving as quickly as he came.
“Games are lame,” Patrick commented.
“There’s food,” Pete reminded Patrick. “It’ll be a date for us, Pattycakes.” Frank realized that no one was going to mention the elephant in the room with the pink hair. Fuck it.
“God, why are you so obsessed with making everything a date for us?” Patrick demanded, looking very annoyed. “I’m in the fucking marching band, I’m gonna be there whether you want me there or not.”
“What do you play?” Frank asked.
“Sex-o-phone,” Pete literally moaned. Patrick rolled his eyes.
“That’s really cool,” Frank commented. He paused. “… I think it’d be cool to go to the game.”
Patrick snorted, Pete’s eyes lit up, and Ryan just looked so disinterested. “We should all go to the game together!” Pete exclaimed. “Let’s do it! Let’s all hang out and have fun and be stupid! Oh my gosh, I’m gonna eat a hot dog. I love hot dogs. And I’ll buy Patrick some nachos for the third inning or whatever you call it so he can eat, and—”
“I can’t eat until the game is over,” Patrick interrupted duly.
“I’ll buy Patrick nachos after the show!” Pete corrected without missing a beat. “And Ryan will sit there, grumpy as every loving fuck, and just mope about how terribly unorganized everything is, and we’ll have fun like we haven’t in years.”
“Why do you even wanna go?” Patrick asked, looking skeptical.
Frank shrugged. It probably would’ve been dumb to admit that he felt like Patrick didn’t get much support from his friends when it came to marching band. Frank wanted to say some excuse, but his stomach was starting to hurt. “Might be fun,” was all he said.
Ryan sighed as Pete looked to him, eyes wide and beseeching. “Don’t make me sit in those bleachers alone,” Pete begged, having no shame. “C’mon, Ry— you hardly ever do fun things outside your house. I know it’s been hard on you this past year, but just because bad stuff happens doesn’t mean you should avoid the possibility of good things, too.”
Frank would’ve asked what Pete was referring to if he hadn’t seen the way Ryan’s expression became deadly. “Fuck off, Pete.” Ryan snapped.
“Only if you come with us tonight,” Pete negotiated gently.
Ryan scowled. “I’m going to class early,” he said, standing and slinging his satchel over his shoulder. “Kindly go fuck yourself, Pete.” He left in a huff, and Frank was a little floored. Ryan had, so far, been a pretty chill guy to the point of lethargy. Such an visceral reaction was new to Frank. And he kinda appreciated it. He liked it when people didn’t take someone else’s bullshit.
“He’ll be there,” Pete said confidently. “We’ll meet you at the stands, Frankie. I'm so excited you suggested this! I would’ve, but no one ever listens to my shitty ideas.” Pete grinned and looked to Patrick with the moon in his eyes. “I get to see you play! I’m so excited. I wish they’d let you play solos at football games. How much of your show have you guys completed?”
“Only the first act,” Patrick said. He was glancing to Frank. Frank waved awkwardly and Patrick sighed. “Look, uh, Ryan… He can be a bit of a dick, but he usually has a reason. Don’t worry about it. He won’t blow up, normally.”
“I think it was fine,” Frank said. His stomach turned and he pressed his palm into his gut. “Hey, uh, I’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay? I probably won’t be back in time for the end of lunch, so, uh… I’ll see you at class, Patrick.”
Patrick just nodded as Frank got up and left. As he was walking to the bathroom, he knocked shoulders with a boy who had his head down while shuffling through the halls with a book in his hands.
“Sorry,” the boy mumbled, and Frank was a little surprised to see it was Gerald. But he just nodded and returned the apology and went to take a piss. He wondered what Gerald had been reading and if it was really that good. He also wished he knew the kid well enough to ask about the book.
. . .
His last class of the day, Frank was enthralled with watching Gerard work. Gerard wasn’t actually working on anything, just drawing, as usual, except he had left the top left corner of the page. Gerard was drawing a extensive scene, a large group of men fighting against these dark, evil looking things. The drawing covered the words of the package they were reviewing and stretched onto Gerald’s notebook that was underneath it. Gerald was only using a black ballpoint pen and a neon pink highlighter, but he somehow made it work.
Frank could see the gore and carnage in the drawing and wondered if Gerald was in any sort of art class, because his composition looked amazing to Frank. He was entranced by watching Gerald’s pen move across the paper, the scratch of the pen on the page soothing him, louder than the drone of the teacher. He wished he could get the guy to draw him something. Frank planned on getting a ton of tattoos one day, and he almost wanted Gerald’s work to be somewhere on his skin.
Suddenly, Gerald ripped the paper away and opened his notebook, drawing something new on the graph paper inside. Frank sat up a little straight to try and see what it was, but Gerald’s shoulder was in the way. He was very disappointed.
Gerald drew his mystery piece for a good ten minutes before the piece of paper was suddenly being shoved into Frank’s face, like Gerald was forcing it into his space so he couldn’t deny it.
Frank took the paper with a confused frown and looked it over.
It was a drawing of a zombie like creature with bolts through its head. It had a hi that looked very similar to Frank’s and wore the same shirt that Frank had worn that day— a ratty old t-shirt that had a worn picture of a smiley face on the front with one of the eyeballs of the smiley face falling out.
The drawing had a description:
“FRANKENSTEIN— creepy watcher stalker”
It was signed in the corner by “G Way” and Frank snorted and found himself smiling. He knew he was being a creep and he was a little ashamed he had been caught in the act, but he kinda thought the drawing was a little too awesome to be eclipsed by his shame. He also liked that he had been noticed. Gerald didn’t seem to be anyone super popular, so it wasn’t like Frank would be mocked for staring at Gerald’s drawing.
He really liked what Gerald had drawn him, too. It looked rugged and scratchy, like an artist sketch he would see in an art museum that showed the steps an artist took for a final product. He wondered if Gerald had ever thought about leaving this hick town to go to the city and make a name for himself. He looked like he had the ability if he just had the right connections.
The bell rang, and Gerald stood up sharply, standing to face Frank’s desk, hair in front of half his face. “You’re staring,” Gerald accused, looking more curious than upset. “Why are you staring?”
“You’re really good at drawing,” Frank said with absolutely no shame. “I was watching because it all looked really awesome. It was cool that you started leaving the corner of the page, too. I thought it was kinda sad that you constricted yourself like that. You’re really good. Borders are dumb.”
“Do you draw?” Gerald asked, looking a little more interested.
Frank shook his head. “But I read a lot of comics,” he amended when he saw Gerard’s face fall. “I know a lot of stuff about art too, cause I lived pretty close to New York city for a long time and my mom liked to take my to galleries and stuff since they were free on the first Friday of every month in the art district. So I saw a lot of art and that means that I know that you’re really, really good, dude. You should, like, do something with it.” He paused, then threw himself out there. “Are you going to the game tonight?”
Gerald shook his head. “I have plans.”
Frank bit his lip and nodded. “Well, maybe another time then.” He started to finally pack of his bag and smiled a bit up at Gerald. He usually didn’t like smiling at people, especially strangers, but Gerald looked pretty haggard and Frank suspected he needed a smile. “You should keep drawing, dude. You’re really fucking good and I like your style. Just on the edge of psycho and dark.”
Gerald was looking down at his toes when Frank looked up. “… You seem nicer than most kids that talk to me,” Gerald said. “But that’s kinda my own fault. So, uh,” and then Gerald was holding out his hand. Frank took it and shook his head. “My name is Gerard. It’s nice to meet you…”
“Frank,” Frank told him, feeling like an idiot for calling this kid Gerald in his head the whole time. Frank stood from his chair and smiled again at Gerard. “It’s cool to meet you too. You should come to that game tonight if you happen to finish whatever plans you had. I’m meeting a few friends there. It’d be cool to see you.”
Frank didn’t normally forge friendships, nor did he call people his friends without them calling him their friend first. Frank had no idea what was coming over him with all of this proactive shit. But Gerard didn’t seem very upset about being invited and just shrugged.
“I’m gonna draw an alien tomorrow,” he told Frank before leaving the classroom. Frank watched him go and felt pretty fucking good. The kid wasn’t creeped out, and now Frank knew his real name.