Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > .waste.of.time.
"Gerard," I said.
"No," he said.
I folded my arms, frustrated. "Why?"
"I just don't want to."
"Why?"
"I don't know!" He was getting frustrated now, and he tapped the steering wheel impatiently. "I just don't want to, okay?"
I slouched in my seat and sighed, watching him maneuver the steering wheel. “Hey,” I said, sitting up a little straighter. “Let me off on Carpenter, okay?”
He looked over at me, one eyebrow raised. “Why?”
“Because Gram is the only one home, and I don’t want her seeing you drop me off.”
Gerard rolled his eyes. “What’s next? I’m going to have to avoid you altogether because she might hear that we’re hanging out or something?”
“You never know with her.” I yawned and pulled my messenger bag onto my lap. “Look, will you come or not?”
“I said no.”
“Will you at least drive me?”
He groaned as he pulled onto Carpenter Street. “Why can’t your mom do it?”
“Because she’s in Toronto — please!”
“I swear to God, Alixz . . .” He pulled over to the side of the road and parked. “I take it that’s why your gram’s the only one there?”
“Kind of.” I realized I was chewing my thumbnail, and I pulled it out of my mouth and wrapped my bag’s strap around my hand.
He sighed. “Your gram has a car.”
I glared at him. “Right,” I said. “That’s totally going to happen. When they sell ice cream in hell.” I pulled my ski cap further down on my head.
“Aren’t you hot in that?” he asked, pointing at my head.
“No.” I pulled the hat down until it covered my eyes. “For the love of God, Gerard — do it!”
I heard him smack the steering wheel several times. “I’ll drive you, okay, Alixz . . . But I am not auditioning. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” I said, pushing my hat up and getting out of his car before he could say anything else. I waved at him as I slung my bag over my body and headed down the street.
I twisted my rings around my fingers as I thought. I’d talked him into driving me, which was huge, since Gerard was horrendously stubborn — now I had to think of a way to get him to audition with me.
I’d done school plays for years — which Gerard, like the loyal (if stubborn) friend he is — always attended, for my sake. Now, there was a new theater in town, not far from the school, and they were holding auditions for their upcoming shows.
And they wanted people MY AGE.
I got a little giddy just thinking about it.
Then I remembered that Amanda Snow would probably be there. I hate that girl. Not only is she prettier and smarter than I am, she’s much more talented — and she knows it, too. She’s gotten the lead in every school play since I can remember. And that’s a lot of plays, since I’ve known her since second grade.
I turned onto my street, Haley Road, and was instantly greeted by a terrier barking ferociously.
“You be quiet!” her owner, a silver-haired woman shouted. Then she waved at me.
I waved back.
The more I thought about it, there was no real way I could get Gerard to audition with me. He’d just find a corner to sit in and ignore the world while he listened to his iPod.
I walked up to my front door and was about to stick my key in the lock when the door opened.
It was Gram.
“Where have you been?” she said, as though I was stumbling home, drunk, at 3am.
“Uh, at school,” I said, and looked at the clock hanging on the wall just inside the door. It said 2:25, but since it was always at least five minutes off, I guessed it was around 2:30. School let out at 2:15, so I wasn’t sure why she was asking me where I’d been. I mean, it should have been obvious.
She peered past me outside. “That Gerald kid didn’t drive you, did he?”
“Gerard, Gram. His name is Gerard.”
She snorted. “What kind of name is Gerard?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. I don’t know what she has against Gerard, unless it’s the way he dresses. She hasn’t even deigned to speak to him. “I mean, why do you keep calling him Gerald, anyway? You know his name is Gerard.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady.” She stepped aside to let me in. “Out riding in the car with him . . . People are going to think you’re having sex. I wouldn’t be surprised if you are, what with—”
“Gram!” I shouted. “We are not having sex!”
That was when I saw the silver-haired woman from down the street walking by with her dog. She shot us a dirty look.
Gram didn’t seem to notice her or what I’d said, and she picked up right where she’d left off. “—your attitude, and your clothes,” she said. “I’m surprised your mother lets you get away with it. I’ll tell you something, if you had had my mother, you wouldn’t get away with one-tenth of what you get away with.”
Leave it to Gram to make sure she doesn’t sugarcoat anything.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the large, ornate mirror hanging in the wall in our living room, which is right next to the foyer.
I’ve got long, straight, dark hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. I say my hair is black, but in some light it looks brown, and Gram won’t say my hair is anything but brown. The only makeup I ever wear is black eyeliner.
Today I wore baggy black jeans with red stitching, a red tank top, black Converse, and, of course, my ski cap to match my shirt. I had my favorite green hoodie tied around my waist, and several silver rings on my fingers and a studded cuff on my left wrist.
I didn’t think what Gram said was very fair at all. What was wrong with my clothes?
And then I was suddenly very aware of the very detailed skull that Gerard had drawn on my arm in Algebra 2 today. I’d never hear the end of it if Gram saw that, so I turned away from her and put my hoodie on as fast as I could.
“Gram, close the door,” I said.
“Fine,” she said, and waved to someone outside before she did. “What are you going to do?”
I had to think for a moment. “Start my homework,” I said, heading upstairs. “I have tons to do.”
That was a lie. I’d already gotten about half of it done in study hall, and the rest of it I could probably have done in an hour or so.
“You’d better get your grades up,” Gram said. “You’re going to have to get a scholarship if you have any intention of getting into college.”
“My grades are up,” I said.
“Well, you make sure you keep them up,” she said. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” I said, figuring I could grab something when she went in the family room to watch TV.
“Okay. Well, there are egg rolls in the freezer. Your mother got those for you before she left on her trip. You should be very grateful to have the mother you’ve got —”
“I know, I know,” I said, heading into my room and closing the door.
"No," he said.
I folded my arms, frustrated. "Why?"
"I just don't want to."
"Why?"
"I don't know!" He was getting frustrated now, and he tapped the steering wheel impatiently. "I just don't want to, okay?"
I slouched in my seat and sighed, watching him maneuver the steering wheel. “Hey,” I said, sitting up a little straighter. “Let me off on Carpenter, okay?”
He looked over at me, one eyebrow raised. “Why?”
“Because Gram is the only one home, and I don’t want her seeing you drop me off.”
Gerard rolled his eyes. “What’s next? I’m going to have to avoid you altogether because she might hear that we’re hanging out or something?”
“You never know with her.” I yawned and pulled my messenger bag onto my lap. “Look, will you come or not?”
“I said no.”
“Will you at least drive me?”
He groaned as he pulled onto Carpenter Street. “Why can’t your mom do it?”
“Because she’s in Toronto — please!”
“I swear to God, Alixz . . .” He pulled over to the side of the road and parked. “I take it that’s why your gram’s the only one there?”
“Kind of.” I realized I was chewing my thumbnail, and I pulled it out of my mouth and wrapped my bag’s strap around my hand.
He sighed. “Your gram has a car.”
I glared at him. “Right,” I said. “That’s totally going to happen. When they sell ice cream in hell.” I pulled my ski cap further down on my head.
“Aren’t you hot in that?” he asked, pointing at my head.
“No.” I pulled the hat down until it covered my eyes. “For the love of God, Gerard — do it!”
I heard him smack the steering wheel several times. “I’ll drive you, okay, Alixz . . . But I am not auditioning. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” I said, pushing my hat up and getting out of his car before he could say anything else. I waved at him as I slung my bag over my body and headed down the street.
I twisted my rings around my fingers as I thought. I’d talked him into driving me, which was huge, since Gerard was horrendously stubborn — now I had to think of a way to get him to audition with me.
I’d done school plays for years — which Gerard, like the loyal (if stubborn) friend he is — always attended, for my sake. Now, there was a new theater in town, not far from the school, and they were holding auditions for their upcoming shows.
And they wanted people MY AGE.
I got a little giddy just thinking about it.
Then I remembered that Amanda Snow would probably be there. I hate that girl. Not only is she prettier and smarter than I am, she’s much more talented — and she knows it, too. She’s gotten the lead in every school play since I can remember. And that’s a lot of plays, since I’ve known her since second grade.
I turned onto my street, Haley Road, and was instantly greeted by a terrier barking ferociously.
“You be quiet!” her owner, a silver-haired woman shouted. Then she waved at me.
I waved back.
The more I thought about it, there was no real way I could get Gerard to audition with me. He’d just find a corner to sit in and ignore the world while he listened to his iPod.
I walked up to my front door and was about to stick my key in the lock when the door opened.
It was Gram.
“Where have you been?” she said, as though I was stumbling home, drunk, at 3am.
“Uh, at school,” I said, and looked at the clock hanging on the wall just inside the door. It said 2:25, but since it was always at least five minutes off, I guessed it was around 2:30. School let out at 2:15, so I wasn’t sure why she was asking me where I’d been. I mean, it should have been obvious.
She peered past me outside. “That Gerald kid didn’t drive you, did he?”
“Gerard, Gram. His name is Gerard.”
She snorted. “What kind of name is Gerard?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. I don’t know what she has against Gerard, unless it’s the way he dresses. She hasn’t even deigned to speak to him. “I mean, why do you keep calling him Gerald, anyway? You know his name is Gerard.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady.” She stepped aside to let me in. “Out riding in the car with him . . . People are going to think you’re having sex. I wouldn’t be surprised if you are, what with—”
“Gram!” I shouted. “We are not having sex!”
That was when I saw the silver-haired woman from down the street walking by with her dog. She shot us a dirty look.
Gram didn’t seem to notice her or what I’d said, and she picked up right where she’d left off. “—your attitude, and your clothes,” she said. “I’m surprised your mother lets you get away with it. I’ll tell you something, if you had had my mother, you wouldn’t get away with one-tenth of what you get away with.”
Leave it to Gram to make sure she doesn’t sugarcoat anything.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the large, ornate mirror hanging in the wall in our living room, which is right next to the foyer.
I’ve got long, straight, dark hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. I say my hair is black, but in some light it looks brown, and Gram won’t say my hair is anything but brown. The only makeup I ever wear is black eyeliner.
Today I wore baggy black jeans with red stitching, a red tank top, black Converse, and, of course, my ski cap to match my shirt. I had my favorite green hoodie tied around my waist, and several silver rings on my fingers and a studded cuff on my left wrist.
I didn’t think what Gram said was very fair at all. What was wrong with my clothes?
And then I was suddenly very aware of the very detailed skull that Gerard had drawn on my arm in Algebra 2 today. I’d never hear the end of it if Gram saw that, so I turned away from her and put my hoodie on as fast as I could.
“Gram, close the door,” I said.
“Fine,” she said, and waved to someone outside before she did. “What are you going to do?”
I had to think for a moment. “Start my homework,” I said, heading upstairs. “I have tons to do.”
That was a lie. I’d already gotten about half of it done in study hall, and the rest of it I could probably have done in an hour or so.
“You’d better get your grades up,” Gram said. “You’re going to have to get a scholarship if you have any intention of getting into college.”
“My grades are up,” I said.
“Well, you make sure you keep them up,” she said. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” I said, figuring I could grab something when she went in the family room to watch TV.
“Okay. Well, there are egg rolls in the freezer. Your mother got those for you before she left on her trip. You should be very grateful to have the mother you’ve got —”
“I know, I know,” I said, heading into my room and closing the door.
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