Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > .waste.of.time.
“Morning,” I said, climbing into Gerard’s car the next morning.
“Hey,” he said, handing me a thermos of coffee as I handed him a cinnamon roll. I had figured it was safe for him to pick me up because Gram rarely got up before 10am.
He took a bite of the cinnamon roll as he backed out of my driveway. “So, that audition thing . . . When is it again?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I just kept thinking it was on Sunday for some reason.”
“Why? What’s happening tomorrow?”
“Nothing. I just don’t feel like doing anything tomorrow.”
“How do you know?” I said. “Tomorrow hasn’t even happened yet.” I laughed at my own weak joke. He just rolled his eyes.
We took turns poking at the radio, trying to find a station, and wound up sharing my iPod, even though we still couldn’t agree on anything to listen to.
“Here,” he said, ripping my earbud out of his ear after he parked.
I wrapped the earbuds’ cord around my iPod and stuffed it in my bag. “They have you sing, you know,” I said as we got out of the car.
Gerard shrugged and pressed a button on his car remote to lock his car. “So?”
“I still don’t know what song to sing.”
He laughed. “I thought you’d have that picked out last week. I mean, you’ve been ragging on me about this since then.”
“Well, I have a few picked out. I just haven’t narrowed the list down to one.”
“What’s on the list?”
I sighed and dug in my bag to find my list. If only he’d agreed to go with me earlier. We could have had this all ironed out by now. I finally saw the blue Post-It note I’d written it on. “Got it.”
“Shoot.”
“’Are We the Waiting.’”
“Repetitive.”
“’There is a Light That Never Goes Out.’”
“Eh.” He shrugged.
“Haight Street.’”
“Lame.”
“Hey! I like that song.”
He grinned. “I know. Next.”
I rolled my eyes and returned to my list. “Um. ‘Breathe.’”
“Who’s that by?”
“Anna Nalick.”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember that one. Next.”
“’Modern Morbid Prophecies.’”
“Better.”
“Last one — ‘What’s This’.”
“Nightmare Before Christmas?”
“Yeah.”
“Do that one.”
“Okay.” I crumpled the list into a ball and shoved it into my pocket. “I’ll see you in English.”
“Yeah,” he said, and walked off.
“Hey,” my friend Evie said as I walked into school. “Are you going to that audition tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
I probably wouldn’t even know Evie if we didn’t do shows together. She and I have very different personalities, yet we somehow just click. She’s the type who thinks up pranks for the last night of the show, and I’m the one who’s worried about the flower suspiciously missing from the vase.
“Cool. You know, my brother’s coming too.” She winked at me as we walked into class and took our seats.
I blinked at her. I knew what she was hinting at, but I didn’t want to cop to it. “So?”
Evie rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be great if you both got in? I’d finally get to get you two together.”
I wasn't positive, but it seemed to me she might have burst a seam if she got any more excited.
“I’m not interested in your brother.”
“Oh, right.” Evie rolled her eyes. “You’re with that guy . . . Greg or something.”
“Gerard," I said. "And we are not 'together'." I made air quotes with my fingers around the word ‘together‘.
Evie snickered. “Gerarrrrrrrrd,” she intoned, both sarcastically and longingly. “I love you, Gerarrrrrrrrrd.”
“Shut up!” I punched her arm.
Evie laughed just as Mr. C walked in. That man has no sense of humor.
“Quiet,” he barked. Then he turned to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and started writing something.
Evie opened her notebook and started scribbling. After a moment, she ripped a piece of paper out and slapped it on my desk.
Mr. C turned around and glared. She stared straight ahead innocently.
I looked down at the paper. She had drawn a heart with an arrow through it, and on the left side of the heart, she'd written my name, and on the right side, she'd written Gerard’s.
Seriously. What was this, third grade?
I rolled my eyes and crumpled the paper up as quietly as I could. Then I threw it at her head as soon as Mr. C’s back was turned.
“Hey,” he said, handing me a thermos of coffee as I handed him a cinnamon roll. I had figured it was safe for him to pick me up because Gram rarely got up before 10am.
He took a bite of the cinnamon roll as he backed out of my driveway. “So, that audition thing . . . When is it again?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I just kept thinking it was on Sunday for some reason.”
“Why? What’s happening tomorrow?”
“Nothing. I just don’t feel like doing anything tomorrow.”
“How do you know?” I said. “Tomorrow hasn’t even happened yet.” I laughed at my own weak joke. He just rolled his eyes.
We took turns poking at the radio, trying to find a station, and wound up sharing my iPod, even though we still couldn’t agree on anything to listen to.
“Here,” he said, ripping my earbud out of his ear after he parked.
I wrapped the earbuds’ cord around my iPod and stuffed it in my bag. “They have you sing, you know,” I said as we got out of the car.
Gerard shrugged and pressed a button on his car remote to lock his car. “So?”
“I still don’t know what song to sing.”
He laughed. “I thought you’d have that picked out last week. I mean, you’ve been ragging on me about this since then.”
“Well, I have a few picked out. I just haven’t narrowed the list down to one.”
“What’s on the list?”
I sighed and dug in my bag to find my list. If only he’d agreed to go with me earlier. We could have had this all ironed out by now. I finally saw the blue Post-It note I’d written it on. “Got it.”
“Shoot.”
“’Are We the Waiting.’”
“Repetitive.”
“’There is a Light That Never Goes Out.’”
“Eh.” He shrugged.
“Haight Street.’”
“Lame.”
“Hey! I like that song.”
He grinned. “I know. Next.”
I rolled my eyes and returned to my list. “Um. ‘Breathe.’”
“Who’s that by?”
“Anna Nalick.”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember that one. Next.”
“’Modern Morbid Prophecies.’”
“Better.”
“Last one — ‘What’s This’.”
“Nightmare Before Christmas?”
“Yeah.”
“Do that one.”
“Okay.” I crumpled the list into a ball and shoved it into my pocket. “I’ll see you in English.”
“Yeah,” he said, and walked off.
“Hey,” my friend Evie said as I walked into school. “Are you going to that audition tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
I probably wouldn’t even know Evie if we didn’t do shows together. She and I have very different personalities, yet we somehow just click. She’s the type who thinks up pranks for the last night of the show, and I’m the one who’s worried about the flower suspiciously missing from the vase.
“Cool. You know, my brother’s coming too.” She winked at me as we walked into class and took our seats.
I blinked at her. I knew what she was hinting at, but I didn’t want to cop to it. “So?”
Evie rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be great if you both got in? I’d finally get to get you two together.”
I wasn't positive, but it seemed to me she might have burst a seam if she got any more excited.
“I’m not interested in your brother.”
“Oh, right.” Evie rolled her eyes. “You’re with that guy . . . Greg or something.”
“Gerard," I said. "And we are not 'together'." I made air quotes with my fingers around the word ‘together‘.
Evie snickered. “Gerarrrrrrrrd,” she intoned, both sarcastically and longingly. “I love you, Gerarrrrrrrrrd.”
“Shut up!” I punched her arm.
Evie laughed just as Mr. C walked in. That man has no sense of humor.
“Quiet,” he barked. Then he turned to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and started writing something.
Evie opened her notebook and started scribbling. After a moment, she ripped a piece of paper out and slapped it on my desk.
Mr. C turned around and glared. She stared straight ahead innocently.
I looked down at the paper. She had drawn a heart with an arrow through it, and on the left side of the heart, she'd written my name, and on the right side, she'd written Gerard’s.
Seriously. What was this, third grade?
I rolled my eyes and crumpled the paper up as quietly as I could. Then I threw it at her head as soon as Mr. C’s back was turned.
Sign up to rate and review this story