Gerard noted his almost militaristic appearance. Navy suit, complete with jacket and tie. Were it possible to enforce uniforms at a public school, he would. He was a foreboding man to most of the students there, often known for having a bad temper and being able to silence an entire room just by walking into it.
Gerard smirked. They were similar that way. He sank into the uncomfortable chair lazily, letting his arms sprawl out and sighing with a smile.
"What can I say?" he said with a shrug. "He deserved it."
"You wrapped the kid in plastic wrap and locked him in the janitor's closet for throwing a paper wad at you! How can you honestly think he deserved that?" Gerard saw a bluish vein begin to pulse in the man's forehead. He would probably die of a Way-caused aneurysm before the year was out.
"It's me," he said innocently. "What are you going to do, give me a detention?"
"Yes, Mr. Way. Yes I am." He grabbed the form from its wire holder on top of the desk and began filling it out with practiced ease. He turned it around with one finger and slid it over to Gerard for him to sign it, dropping a blue pen in front of him. Gerard merely smirked and pulled a black pen out of his pocket.
"Black is more my style," he explained as he scribbled his signature on the piece of paper, also with practiced ease. They had been through this routine many times before. He finally stood and grabbed his jet-black backpack off the carpeted floor, hoisting it onto one shoulder before walking out.
"Gerard?" the principal called after him. Gerard was already five steps down the hallway, however, and didn't bother to turn back. It wasn't worth his time.
Mikey sat down at one of the gray, rectangular tables, letting his almost weightless backpack fall to the floor. It was black. He hadn't wanted it to be black; maybe blue, or red. Black made him feel depressed. But Gerard had made it clear how Mikey was to act. Speak to no one. Make it very clear who they're dealing with. And don't befriend anyone outside the gang.
He hated his brother's rules. But he could never say anything; he respected Gerard far too much to question him. And he had witnessed his brother's reaction to insolence one too many times. He wasn't stupid. He didn't want to end up with a broken arm and a bloody nose.
Mikey glanced around the room. Most of the students quickly looked away, averting his gaze. They all knew about what had happened earlier and hoped they wouldn't face the same fate thanks to him. He stared down at the desk listlessly. Not even an hour, and everyone already hated him. He sighed quietly.
"Can I sit here?"
Mikey looked up suddenly. A boy with sand-colored hair and a small smile was standing in front of him. He blinked a few times in surprise, not recognizing the other boy's face, and finally nodded in complete shock. The other boy's smile widened as he took the seat next to Mikey. The other students were watching both of them the entire time; some moved their chairs even further away.
"What's your name?"
"M- Mikey," he stammered.
"Frank, sometime today would be nice," Gerard said impatiently, edging his way toward the door and checking his watch. Frank responded by moving even slower.
"Relax, G. The lunchroom isn't going to get up and walk away." He thought for a second, lifting his book-laden backpack to one shoulder. "You know what? I take that back. It's probably terrified of you, so maybe we should go before it gets up and walks away," he said with a smirk. Gerard merely rolled his eyes. Frank was one of very few people who could get away with speaking to him like that. They walked out into the nearly empty hallway.
"I'm meeting up with Matt; you coming?" Gerard asked as they reached the door leading outside. Frank shook his head.
"Nah, today's been pretty boring. I plan to organize a food fight before the day is done. Later," he said with a wave, pushing open the door and walking to the cafeteria building. Gerard took a right and headed over to the fence on the far side of the school, tossing his backpack over it effortlessly before following it himself. Matt was already standing in the building's shadow, leaning against the wall with a cigarette dangling between two fingers. He greeted Gerard with a single nod, as was customary, and took a drag off the cigarette.
Gerard opened his backpack and dug through it for a few moments, cursing to himself.
"What is it this time?" Matt asked with a hint of worry.
"Forgot again," Gerard responded with a low growl in his voice. Matt shrugged.
"White or red?"
"Red, as usual." He gave a light smile as Matt drew a box of cigarettes from his bag and offered it to him. He gratefully took it, pulling his lighter from one pocket.
"Oh, you remember the lighter but not the cigarettes? That's ironic," Matt said with a good-natured smirk. Gerard merely rolled his eyes as he held the lighter's soft flame to the end of one cigarette.
"So, been sent to the office yet?" he asked, handing the box back to Matt.
"A few minutes after you," he said with a smirk. "How'd it go?"
"Detention, as expected." He took a long drag off the cigarette, wondering how to tell Matt his newest plan. "You remember Steven Wright?"
"I'd be a retard if I didn't. He's a legend. Duh." Gerard half-laughed.
"Infamous for the Blood Bomb in the cafeteria. His junior year."
"You've got a way to top it, don't you?" Matt asked suspiciously. Gerard smirked. They could almost read each other's minds at this point.
"His mistake was that he only went for small stuff. I say we go after the faculty."
"You've lost your mind," said Matt, shaking his head. Gerard shrugged halfheartedly.
"Maybe. But if we can pull it off..." He let his voice trail off and fade into silence. They finished their cigarettes almost simultaneously, tossing the remains in plastic bags that were quickly hidden in their backpacks. There was no sense in getting caught.
As they walked back to the main building, the bell rang. A victorious Frank led the food-covered masses through the doors, smiling triumphantly. Gerard and Matt approached him, both smirking.
"Success?" Gerard asked. Frank smiled, raising both hands in classic 'rock on' symbols.