FicWad

When I wake up in the morning, I look at myself in the mirror, trying to gauge the damage my father did. I try without any results to cover up the livid bruise on my cheek. My chest hurts with every breath, but I’m so used to this, I can almost ignore it.
I go upstairs after I change, grabbing my bag and running out the door as quickly as I can, towards the school. Away from him. Towards safety.
I’m throwing my stuff into my locker, when a voice behind me says, “Hey.”
I whirl around, almost bumping into Frankie. There’s no smirk, just a serious face with clear eyes.
I take a deep breath. “Frankie, I’m-,” He cuts me off, slicing the air with his hand.
“Don’t. You don’t have to. Everyone’s got their shit.” I’m stunned, but I don’t say anything. In that moment, Frankie’s eyes widen, and he lifts his hand, running the tips of his fingers along my cheek. I try not to wince.
“What happened?” He says, brows furrowed.
“Nothing. I tripped.” I stumble over my words. I kick myself internally; I can usually do better than that.
“Tripped and hit your face?” He asks skeptically, but his hand falls to his side. There’s a moment of slightly awkward silence like there always is when you lie and it’s obvious.
“So…” Frankie says, and his normal excitement comes back. “Wanna meet some of the people who aren’t assholes?”
“Heck yeah!” I say happily. Any friend of Frank’s is probably cool.
“Ok, well you can meet all of them at lunch, but now just tell me your first class.”
I raise my eyebrow and he explains. “So I can see if you have classes with any of them.”
“Oh. History.” I tell him.
He bites his lip in concentration, then grins. “Ok, one of them is in that. His name is Mikey.”
“So I just go in and scream out his name?” I say sarcastically.
“You could.” Frankie shrugs. “But you’ll be able to pick him out easy. He’s got brown hair, and it sticks up all over the place. He’s really skinny, and tall. And he wears his glasses on the end of his nose.” Frankie demonstrates, pointing to the tip of his nose. “It makes him hold his head weird.” He pulls his head back into his neck, back straightening.
I laugh. “Ok-.” Just then, the bell rings, sending both me and Frankie running off in opposite directions.
I still get to History before the teacher does, and as soon as I walk in, I scan the room for anyone who fits Frank’s description. It’s unnecessary, Mikey is easy to find.
He’s sitting in the corner, evidently reading a comic book with his glasses on the extreme tip of his nose, just as Frankie had said. His hair is going off in every possible direction, and his eyes are narrowed, like the comic has him worried, or frustrated.
I look briefly at the other students, a lot of which seem to be watching Mikey, some of them imitating him.
Jaws drop when I walk confidently to the desk and pull out the chair next to Mikey. Even Mikey is stunned. His comic falls from his hand to the floor, and his eyes widen.
“You’re Mikey, right?” I ask him.
He nods.
“I’m Evangeline. Frankie told me about you.”
Mikey isn’t confused anymore; comprehension crossed his face the moment I mentioned Frankie.
“Oh….” He says. “Frankie told us about you too.” Us? There must be a group, or more than Mikey at the very least, unless Mikey is an intense Lord of the Rings fan. Which, by the looks of him, he probably is. But that’s ok. I am too.
“What comic you reading?” I say, trying to make casual conversation. I’m really wondering what Frankie told “them” about me.
Mikey smiles enthusiastically. “The Watchmen.”
I can feel my fangirlness kick in the moment the words are out of his mouth. “And you love it, right?” He nods manically.
“My brother told me about it.” Brother? Well, there’s one more person.
“Your brother a comic fan?”
Mikey raises his eyebrows and nods. “Huge.” He draws the word out.
“Cool.”
“Yeah. My brother is really cool.” And I can tell by the tone in his voice he admires his brother, whoever he may be.
Mikey looks around the room, at the way everyone is staring. “So, are you gonna hang with us now?”
“I guess. Better than being alone. And definitely better than those assholes.” I raise my voice on the last word, and Mikey laughs.
The teacher stumbles through door, and grudgingly, we both turn to the front of the class. I really do like Mikey.
At the end of the class Mikey and I both get up to go. One of the bigger kids yawns, sticking his leg out right in front of us. I manage to avoid it, but Mikey doesn’t, and winds up sprawled on the tile, his books falling everywhere.
I spin to the kid, growling, “Watch it buddy.” He’s taken aback by my tone, by the way I don’t seem afraid. But then all of his friends start oooooooooooohhhhhhing and numbers win. I turn, picking up Mikey’s stuff as he gets up. I shoot the boys a dirty look before handing Mikey his things and following him out the door.
“Thanks.” Mikey says, cheeks red.
“Don’t worry about it, those guys are dicks.” I shake my head in disgust.
We walk towards my locker, and I find out his is only a few feet down from mine. I’m surprised I’ve never noticed him before.
“I see you found Mikey ok.” I turn and see Frank leaning coolly against the locker next to mine, half his mouth lifted.
“Yeah. He’s pretty cool.” I see Mikey blush, and I get the feeling he doesn’t hear that very often.
“Of course he is.” Frankie says smoothly. “So what class do you have now?”
“Trig.”
Frank bites his lip again, then sighs in disappointment. “No ones in that one I don’t think. But you can meet them all at lunch.”
“Mkay. Where do you guys sit?”
“I’ll find you. I’ll be waiting.” Frankie says easily.
“Ok then.” I smile. “See you, Frank, Mikey.” I wave to both of them, trudging off to my next class.
That class goes quickly, and so does the next. I say hi to Mikey in between, and he seems happy. He’s so nice, it’s amazing. Poor kid. I see tons of kids mocking him. He doesn’t seem to notice, or it doesn’t bother him all that much.
I go to my locker eagerly after my next class, and Frankie is there, just like he’d said he’d be.
He takes me into the lunch room and I follow him to the far left corner, where a small group are sitting haphazardly around a crooked table.
Frankie pulls out a chair for me, before dropping lazily into the one beside it. I’m seated next to a boy with a dark brown afro. He appeared to be in the midst of an intense conversation with Mikey and strawberry blonde boy with gauges and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. An extremely small girl with wavy reddish brown hair is next to him. She has dark eyeliner, showing off her brilliant green eyes. I note the small stud in her nose, the converse that come up to the middle of her shin before melting smoothly into skinny jeans. She punches the blonde boy in the shoulder, and he rubs it, giving her puppy dog eyes.
Next to the girl is a pale boy with black hair that falls messily over his face. His eyes are hazel, almond shaped and intense. They keep darting towards the girl next to him, then away, as if he’s afraid to look at her too long.
“So guys…” Frankie says loudly, drawing everyone’s attention on to us. I can feel heat spreading in my cheeks already. “This is Evangeline.”
I jerk my chin up in greeting like I do most of the time. “Hi.”
They all wave, giving me a chorus of heys, hi’s, and a ‘sup from the blonde boy.
“I’m Ray.” The boy with the afro says. He holds out a hand and I shake it, remembering how I had shaken Frankie’s hand in a similar fashion the previous day.
“You already know me.” Mikey says, shrugging.
“I’m Bob.” The blonde boy says, holding up a hand.
“Nicole.” They girls says, reaching an arm all the way across the table for me to shake. I smile, liking her spunk.
“I’m Gerard.” The black haired boy says, smiling in a friendly way.
“Gerard made my shoes,” Frankie says, gesturing to them.
My eyes widen. “Are you kidding? That’s amazing.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I wish I could draw like that.”
“Told you my brother was cool.” Mikey says proudly.
I suddenly notice the faint resemblance between Mikey and Gerard. While the hair color and skin tones are different, I can see they both have similar features.
Gerard shrugs, like what he did was nothing special. “It wasn’t that good.”
“Yeah, it was!” I tell him.
Just then, Ray exclaims, “Ha! I win!” Bob’s turns towards the window, where a red convertible is pulling up.
“Damn it!” He swears.
“Hand me the money Bobert!” Bob groans and extracts a five dollar bill from his pants. Ray pockets it and explains once he sees my look of confusion.
“We had a bet that Jesse Perkins was gonna get a new car, because he chipped the paint of his old one on a stop sign.” He shakes his head. “He got a new car and I’m stuck with a ’71 Buick.”
“Better than me, I don’t have a car.” I shrug.
“Better than most of us,” Nicole pipes up. “Ray drives us all everywhere.”
“Are you the only one with a car?” I ask him.
He nods, curls bouncing. “Gee and Bob both have licenses though, so they take mine a lot.” I wrinkle an eyebrow.
“Gee?”
“Gerard. Stupid nickname.” Gerard says, shaking his head.
“Shut up,” Nicole says, “It’s awesome.” I can see the look they give each other, and they way both of them blush and look away after a moment.
Bob, Mikey and Ray all look at me, confirming my idea that Nicole and Gerard might have feelings for each other. I don’t say anything, and there’s a moment of silence.
“So, are you willing to become completely and totally uncool?” Nicole asks me.
“I think I was already uncool, but sure.” I smile. They all chuckle.
“Welcome to the club.” Bob says, and they all give me a small round of applause.
I smile doing a mock bow. I’m already comfortable with them.