Peterick fic collaboration with Mikeyunicornrawr. Patrick's POV: Mikeyunicornrawr. Pete's POV: Me.
Missing the bus when you have no other ride, sucks. Living four miles from the school you go to, sucks more. I’ll probably end up late to school, but it’s better than not going, my mother would be furious. So I walk the four miles, grumbling angrily. By the time I get there, I’m exhausted and almost an hour late. Great. I check in at the office, getting scolded about my hat and tardiness, before walking to class with a late slip. Another cruelty of highschool is the possibility of having math as your first class of the day. Why can’t my first class be something simple? I walk into the class, blushing lightly as I feel everyone’s eyes look up at me.
“Late again?” Mr. Smith sighs and takes the late slip, “Take your seat.”
I look down and walk to my assigned seat, almost sitting in it before realizing someone else is already there.
“Need something?” he looks up at me, shaking his hair out of his eyes.
“I um.. y-yeah that’s my assigned seat.” I fidget nervously.
“Patrick just sit somewhere else!” Mr. Smith’s voice makes me jump, making the boy snicker.
I nod before going to the seat beside it. I look over to the boy in my seat, realizing he’s new. So maybe he wasn’t being rude, but he does seem a bit...arrogant. I hate to judge people off the bat, but he’s not making it easy. Oh well, I’ll just avoid him and hopefully he won’t sit there tomorrow.
The late dude is staring at me. I turn in my seat and glare at the wall. I hate this place already. Not only did this idiot of a teacher sit me in someone else's seat, but he also forgot I was there not five minutes later. Way to care about your students, jerk. I glance back over at the one who interrupted the teacher's droning. I feel bad for this kid, he looked so nervous just to walk into the room. Hell, he even jumped when I laughed bitterly at the ignorant teacher. I can't help it; I laugh at everything, even if it's at my own expense. He's still sneaking looks at me and squeaks when I make eye contact. I start tapping my pencil, turning to the board. Fuck, what class is this again?
It was a month ago when my mom called me downstairs and told me she had a job offer in Chicago. Don't get me wrong, I've always thought Chicago would be cool, but I just didn't want to leave New York. I liked the big city and we'd be moving to a suburb. Naturally, I was angry. I had friends, I had good grades, I had a life. It had taken a few years to work up to that. I'm not very easy to get along with, so it was difficult to trust anyone or focus in school. But I did it. I was finally happy. Now this shit. This school is falling apart, the only teacher I've met so far is a complete tool, and everyone here looks either hostile or complete losers.
I sigh and look at the boy again, to see he's still staring.
"What?" I snap.
"N-N-Nothing..." he stutters, jumping back and knocking his book to the floor. I raise an eyebrow as he leans to pick it up, his cheeks reddening by the second.
"Right." I look at the teacher again, who's talking so quietly I can't hear him. Still unsure of what class I'm in, I groan and drop my head on my crossed arms.
It’s extremely tempting to bash myself in the face with one of the books I just dropped. Why do I keep looking at him? Wasn’t my plan to avoid, not stare? I look up to Mr. Smith telling us our homework assignment, quickly writing it on my homework planner. The homework planner, is not my idea. It’s my mother’s way to make sure I’m not fucking up in school. She has me write my assignments in the planner, get the teacher to initial it, then she initials it after I’ve done it. If I get anything below a B, I’m grounded. And that isn’t just on report cards, that’s on school work, homework, tests, everything. And in math, that’s a problem. Numbers don’t quite work in my brain. I slowly walk up to Mr. Smith, handing him the planner for him to initial.
“Better make sure you sign that for Patty’s mommie.” Josh snorts from his desk, causing the entire class to erupt into laughter.
He initials it, being sure to leave a note about me being late. I sigh and walk back to my seat, keeping my eyes on the floor as the class mumbles about me to each other. Another bit of high school cruelty, is when you’re the outcast. I don’t mean, in a group of outcasts where you still have friends either. Even to the outcasts and other social rejects, I’m the one that everyone mutually dislikes, and I don’t really understand why. I mean, I get that I’m unattractive and nerdy, but I’m a nice guy. God forbid any of these kids find out I’m gay. They’ll eat me alive. I drop my pencil, becoming aware that I’m shaking, and sigh as it rolls over to the new kid. Great, now I’ll have to ask him to hand it to me.
I look over to him, “I-I... I dropped... c-can you hand me-”
“Patrick!” Mr. Smith snaps, causing me to jump again.
Even I jump when the teacher yells for the second time. He's up there looking smug as the kid next to me snaps back into a sitting position and looks at the teacher, eyes full of fear.
"S-Sorry Mr. Smith," he manages to mumble out. He looks like he's about to cry or completely shut down, either one.
"There is no talking in my class unless your hand is raised. You are fully aware of that."
He nods and stares intensely at his desk, shaking slightly. I glance at the clock and see there's only 3 minutes left before the bell. Is this guy really yelling at a kid for talking with three minutes left?
"You're a complete ass," I say loudly before I can help myself.
"Excuse me?" The teacher snaps, looking at me. No. No, I cannot get detention on my first day. My mom will kill me.
"Sorry, sir. I uh... I was talking to him," I reply, pointing to the dude next to me. His eyes widen as he turns to look at me.
"There's no talking. You need to learn that now or get out of my class."
I nod and look down, sighing in relief. I nearly fall out of my chair as the dude next to me jumps up and bumps into me by accident. He runs to the door and leaves, two minutes to spare. I can tell there are tears in his eyes. The teacher glares at the door before writing the boy's name on the board. "Patrick Stumph."
I mentally kick myself before leaning over to pick up the pencil he dropped. I don't want to become known as a bully. I need to make this right. As the teacher finishes writing the name, the bell rings. I stand up to pack my stuff, finally glad to be rid of this horrible experience. As I make my way to the door, I'm stopped by the guy who made fun of Patrick earlier.
"Hey man, that was pretty damn cool of you to say that out loud. Normally fresh meat don't have the guts to do that. I'm Josh. You're one of us, man. C'mon. We'll show you to your next class."
No. No, bad idea! I don't want to be anywhere near these jerks. I shake my head and keep going, pulling out my school map. Josh grabs it and starts leading me out the doorway.
"I said, we're gonna show you to your next class."
I groan and follow them, slightly afraid. I glance around the halls and notice someone ducking into the boys' bathroom. Someone whose eyes were very red. Someone who gasped when I walked past him, with the group of bullies.
I lock myself in a stall and try to cry as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, I’m unable to control the loud sobs. I shake and wipe my eyes, trying to calm down before my next class. At least Mrs. Stewart is nice to me. I sniffle and wipe my eyes before leaving the bathroom and walking to class, quickly sitting down and taking out my books. I really wish I’d paid more attention to where I sat. Josh is behind me, which means hair pulling, pencil stabbing, and seat kicking. I sigh and take out last night’s homework as she closes the door. The new kid stands awkwardly at her desk. How many classes does this kid have with me?
“Pete Wentz?” she smiles, “Could you take the seat by Patrick?”
How many classes is he going to sit by me in?
She takes up the homework, gives us the assignment before allowing us to talk freely. Which means, Josh gets to tease me and everyone gets to laugh.
I wince as he pokes me in the back with his pencil, “Hey, Patty.” I scribble into my homework planner as he pokes again, “Don’t you ignore me.”
I take the planner up to her, having her initial it before returning to my seat. As I start to sit down, the chair is kicked to the side and I fall to the floor. My eyes water as I stand and move the chair back over, holding it before sitting this time.
“Patrick are you alright?” Mrs. Stewart walks over.
“I-I... I’m fi-fine.”
She glances towards Josh before nodding and returning to her desk.
He pokes harder with his pencil, making me whimper.
I can't seem to shake either of these guys. Josh has been in here for five minutes and he's already harassing Patrick. At least the bullies in my school were subtle about it. I'm starting to lose my temper, but I can't afford to get in trouble. Not on my first day. Of course not. Oh well, at least this teacher looks decent. Letting everyone do as they please though... I'd normally be happy about that but I'm a bit afraid for Patrick. I may be a bit arrogant and uncaring sometimes but I can't stand to see a bully.
"What's the matter, Patty? Your ass sore?"
Both Patrick and I turn to Josh, eyes wide. Did he just make a gay joke? Patrick looks away quickly and I keep looking between them both. Josh is laughing and making motions with his hand that resemble pushing over a chair. Wow. This guy had the perfect opportunity to create a new rumor and make this kid's life hell and he didn't even realize what he was doing. What an idiot. The one thing I hate more than bullies are extremely stupid bullies. They're the most dangerous. Bullet dodged, though. This kid doesn't need to be subjected to homophobia as well as the abuse he already gets. I should know. But why did he seem so startled?
"Patrick?" I lean over to him when Josh goes to the back to give his friend a high-five.
"Wh-What?" Patrick moves away from me in his seat, clearly afraid. "Y-You gonna call me gay too?"
"Whoa, you thought that's what he said too?"
Patrick blinks. "Well... what else could he have meant?"
"He meant because he pulled your chair out. He wasn't calling you gay. You don't want that rumor spread. Homophobia is the worst thing ever, so be careful."
"Why are you talking to me? Acting like you give a shit when you called me an ass? Talking about homophobia?"
I sigh and shake my head before turning away. He can't know. No one can.