FicWad

I hated him before I even fully knew him. I’m pretty sure that’s not very fair but it’s the truth. I’m not even really positive why I hated him. I think at that point in time I just hated boys in general. Being only six I had a strong belief that all boys had cooties and if they truly did exist this boy was the cootie king.

I was born in Belleville New Jersey. A shit town with a high crime rate and no good ice cream shop. I lived there with my parents for a while. My father was an Italian from New Jersey, my mother a Russian immigrant with large eyes and an oversized upper lip. My parents divorced when I was six years old because my dad had run off with his sleazy boss. My mom, although she had no idea how to raise a child, kept me. When I turned eight my Aunt Donna and two cousins moved in to help raise me.

The bottom floor of our small house had three rooms. The living room was in the back, the dining room in the middle, and the kitchen at the front. The upstairs had four rooms. Two bedrooms were in the front, one for me and one for Gerard and Mikey another bedroom for Aunt Donna and mom and a single bathroom all five of us shared. We had no front yard and the backyard was small but Gerard, Mikey and I always managed to find some kind of weird game to play in it during day light hours. The alley separated my house from the one directly beside mine. The boy lived in the house across the alley; our backyards faced each other.

My bedroom is in the front of the house, my window facing the house beside mine. It was right above the kitchen’s back door. If I climbed out the window I could climb up onto the roof and jump down on the trashcans that were conveniently placed beneath me. The only problem was that it took me several years to figure this out.

The boy was sick a lot when we were younger. So we didn’t see each other often in the beginning. Sometimes on random days we’d both happen to be playing in our backyards at the same time; he’d always throw rocks at me finding some sick fun in it. I had a strange fascination with pirates back then so when I’d spot him I’d shout “Halt fiend!” This only made him continue to throw rocks, larger this time.

I’d always hated Jersey…it just didn’t smell right. It was three days after I’d turned ten that I decided I didn’t want to live at home anymore…I wanted to go live with Peter Pan in Neverland. Growing up was overrated and stupid. That very day I’d put on a green shirt belonging to Mikey, green shocks, my brown flats and a silly hat I’d made out of green construction paper. I had a plastic dagger, Gerard’s, shoved in one of my socks. I was Peter Pan, or in this case Amber Pan.

I remember the boy was playing in his backyard that day. His hair was dark and he was small, looking at me with wide, blood shot hazel eyes as I stood on the edge of the roof, preparing to fly away. My cousin Mikey was in our yard below me, yelling at me to get down or he’d tell his mom. The boy across the alley stood by his fence to watch me.

“What are you doing?” he shouted, sounding very far away from where I stood.

“Going to Neverland!” I shouted back. He only nodded slightly. His mouth half open in curious wonderment.

“Jump!” he finally said.

“Mom!” Mikey shouted.

I heard her reply inside.

“Amber’s jumping off the roof!” Mikey’s brother, and my oldest cousin, Gerard sprung out of the backdoor to look. I heard Aunt Donna and my mother rushing up the stairs inside the house.

“What are you doing?” Gerard asked me calmly.

“Going to Neverland,” I replied.

The corner of his mouth turned up into a sly smile. Gerard had always encouraged my imagination, even if it was sometimes dangerous. The boy on the other side of the alley seemed more interested in the fall rather than the flight. He stood waiting anxiously for me to make the move.

“Jump! Jump! Jump!” he shouted at me.

I heard my aunt Donna burst into the bedroom door and I realized I only had a moment before she’d rip me back into the room. So I did what the boy said. I closed my eyes and stepped over the edge of the rusting gutter. For a few glorious seconds I was positive I could fly but then gravity got a hold of me and I hit the ground below me. Ten stitches and an arm cast later I’d learned to hate Frank Iero.

The next year of school Frank was in the same class as me. At school we picked on each other to no end. He’d kick dirt at me and I’d pull his hair or spit in his face or kick him. Sometimes we even punched each other. In some ways I think it’s kind of funny because even though Frank and I claimed to hate each other; there was definitely some affection in all the beating. Frank slowly became protective of me, yelling and throwing random objects at anyone who tried to bully me. Eventually the affection would grow into something stronger but at eleven neither of us knew it. As we grew up Frank became less of an enemy and more of a best friend.

Over the years Frank and I started doing everything together although we still claimed to despise each other. The two of us still fought constantly and beat up on each other. Thank goodness I was a tough kid; I don’t remember a day of school that I didn’t come home with a black eye or busted up lip, of course none of these where from Frank but I fought a lot.

When middle school rolled around Frank and I stopped beating up on each other and acted more like friends. We walked to school together. We listened to the same music. He helped me clean up my bloodied lip after I’d get in a fight with the school bully.

In middle school I acted out…a lot. I can’t remember a week that went by that I didn’t land in the principal’s office. I’d start fights, graffiti lockers, skip class, and talk back to teachers…in all I was just a bad kid. In truth I was just trying to find myself. I didn’t want to be anyone I wasn’t. I managed to die my red hair black, I wore dark, rips up clothes and white face chalk. For some odd reason I think I thought I was supposed to be a vampire.

Throughout high school Frank and I remained friends. He was the one who convinced me that my hair looked better red and that I didn’t have to be anyone I wasn’t. It was in high school I finally figured out I liked my odd, dark colored clothes and punk music. Together Frank and I discovered ourselves. He was like a brother to me. I’d never really considered him anything other than my best friend and constant annoyance, but something happened over our summer break before senior year. Something I couldn’t explain or ever admit. I began to nurse an unhealthy crush on my best friend.

Note: This is my very first fic ever. I will try my best to update once or twice every two or three days but I make no promises...life is busy for me. I enjoy comments even if it's just to say update or something like that. Also if you hate the story don't leave nasty comments simply say it isn't the best you've read and then never lay eyes on it again. Anyway...hope you guys enjoy it :)