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Chapter 3 - Catch & Release




Gerard




“What am I going to do with you?” Silvia Blyton murmurs in a tone so condescending, Gerard has to force himself not to sneer at her. She’s sitting is her plush, black swivel chair, lipstick coated mouth pulled into a small frown as she flips through Gerard’s file. Once a very attractive woman, she was now thin and haggard, with dark shadows under her eyes and a mass of tangled, graying hair that was permanently pulled back into a tight bun. Her bony, tapered fingers flick delicately over the sheets of paper as she scans the forms with unmoved concentration.

“Your grades are unacceptable, Gerard,” she says after some silence, icy grey eyes locking onto the boy’s features, “If you don’t clean up your act, start turning in homework and at least try to stay awake during my lessons, you will fail this course.”

The teenager sighs, not at all concerned by her urgency. He’s had this conversation many times before and has come to the conclusion that he really doesn’t care much. Math simply wasn’t his thing and no amount of lecturing would change that.

Gerard pushes back in his seat slightly, forcing his spine to curve into a ‘C’. He’s tired, hungry and bored and would much rather be in gym class right now that have to deal with this.

Mrs. Blyton gives a disapproving shake of the head before turning back to her computer. She clicks once. Twice. Three times.

“You know this is you senior year, right?”

Gerard blinks at her, boredom etched into his features, “Is that a serious question?”

More clicking. “If you fail my class, you’ll have to repeat the 12th grade.”

The teenager stiffens and glances at his teacher. Her features are an odd combination of smugness and concern. Gerard sits up straight, attention thoroughly piqued.

“What?” he asks softly, although he doesn’t need to hear it again. He understands. He can’t believe it hadn’t occurred to him before.

“Yes, Gerard. Fail my class and I’ll be seeing you for another year,” she replies in a voice that’s far too cool, almost as if she’s enjoying this. But Gerard knows that’s not true. Mrs. Blyton has never liked him and certainly wouldn’t want him sticking around for whole other year.

Her hand is back on the mouse in a split second and there’s more clicking. Gerard thinks it might be the most annoying sound in existence. He chews on his bottom lip, suddenly consumed by the overwhelming need for a cigarette. He presses his hand against his front pocket instinctively, pale finger tracing the outline of the small, cardboard box.

Click, click, click.

“So, I know you’ve been having tutoring classes with Frank Iero. How are those going?”

Gerard says nothing for a moment, thinking, and then, “Frank… is… great,” he clears his throat, “Uhm, he’s very helpful and very smart. I like him. I like him tutoring me. You know.”

Mrs. Blyton gives him a knowing glance and Gerard visibly cringes.

“Yes, he is one of my best students,” she’s tapping away on her keyboard now, soft glow of the screen illuminating her hard features, “If he can’t help you, no one can.”

Gerard sighs heavily, annoyed. He shifts in his seat, placing his elbows on his thighs and cradling his face in his hands. There’s silence, then more clicking, the rumble of Gerard’s empty stomach, then even more clicking.

Once. Twice. Three times.

“Oh,” Mrs. Blyton breathes, looking surprised, “I didn’t know Frank Iero was your neighbor.” She turns to look at her student, thinly smiling, “According to this you live… right across the street from him.”

The seventeen year old raises his head, throwing her a sideways glance, “Yeah.”

“That’s perfect!”

Gerard straightens his spine and frowns at her.

“Instead of using the after school program, you can hire Frank as a full time tutor. I mean, he is only a few steps away and you need all the help you can get,” she says, looking at him expectantly.

Gerard is silent for a moment as he thinks about this. Repeating his last year of high school was simply not an option. No fucking way. And he wouldn’t really mind having Frank come round every now and then to help him out. In fact, it was beginning to seem like a pretty obvious solution. Not only would he be able to pass math, he’d have reason a to invite the kid over whenever he felt like it. Why hadn’t he thought of this before?

“That sounds like a good idea,” Gerard murmurs, giving his teacher a distant smile.

She seems pleased as she replies, “It’s settled then. You will hire him as a full time tutor. That is if he agrees, of course.”

Gerard smirks, “I wouldn’t worry about that,” he drops his hands to his sides, standing smoothly, “Frank can’t say no to me.”






*






Frank Iero has always managed to find trouble. Or perhaps, trouble was the one that had the sneaky habit of finding him. Either way, he always ended up being someone else’s bloodied punching bag.

A pale fist connects with Frank’s stomach before he even sees it coming, knocking every ounce of breath from his lungs. He gasps as a wave of red-hot pain pounds through his abdomen. It’s enough to make him fall over but his captor doesn’t give him the opportunity. He’s pressed up against the metal lockers before his mind can clear through its haze of pain and shock.

Sam Walker leers malevolently, receiving nothing but shouts of encouragement from his peers. Frank wonders how it got this bad. But the thought is forced from his mind when the sting of a forceful slap ripples across his skin.

“That’s what you get for calling me out in front of the entire class today, short shit,” Sam’s voice is thick with contempt and Frank has to force himself not to recoil. The bully smirks as his cronies give him a loud hoot of approval. Thriving on the praise, Sam dishes out another blow, this one connects with Frank’s right shoulder. The smaller boy cries out, damp lips parting in agony.

He’s preparing himself for another strike when a voice comes from the end on the hall, “What’s going on here?”

Sam freezes, head snapping up in fear, but he soon relaxes when he recognizes the figure.

“Oh, Brian! How wonderful that you’re here. I was just informing our dear Frankie-boy of the consequences of trying to one up me in class. I think he’s receiving the message quite well, don’t you think?” Sam grabs Frank by the arms and presents him to Brain, slipping his taut biceps under Frank’s armpits, holding him tight and steady. But the smaller boy doesn’t struggle, no, instead he hangs limply and waits for another dosage of hurt to be inflicted upon him.

“C’mon, give it a shot,” Sam urges as he notices his friend’s hesitation.

Brian throws Frank a glance and although it’s fleeting, Frank can clearly see the emotion present within it: guilt.

Brian clears his throat, like he’s preparing himself for a long speech, but all he says is, “Let him go.”

Frank can feel Sam’s body go tense at the words, his back pressing even harder into the bigger boy’s solid chest.

“What the fuck, Pearson? Are you serious?” Sam breathes, his tone as cold as ice.

Brian glares at him. His cheeks are tinged with pink but his voice remains hard and leveled as he says again: “Let. Him. Go.”

Without anymore protest, Sam’s grip loosens and Frank falls the floor. He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and grips at his sore, aching shoulder. Brian gazes down at him. That tiny twinge of regret Frank had noticed earlier was still there, swimming in his blue eyes.

“Get out of here,” Brian murmurs, eyes snapping back to the others as soon as the words leave his lips.

Frank doesn’t need to be told twice. He manages to get onto his feet, despite his bruised body, moving as quickly as he can out of the hall. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the bathroom where crashes into the nearest stall and sinks to the floor, trying to calm himself down.

A/N: Gosh, it's been forever since I updated this. I'm really sorry about that but my exams are over, so I'll be able to focus on writing from now on. So the gaps between chapters won't be so long anymore.

Thanks for all the pretty comments on the last chapter.