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Quick Note-

Thanks for all your epic reviews. I love you guys.
-Bella Ashlie xxx

I stood at the reception desk, waiting for the Barbie doll receptionist to get off the motherfucking phone. I tapped the wooden desk, checking my watch. SHE HAD BEEN ON THE PHONE FOR TEN MINUTES. Who the fuck was on the other end? Finally, she glared at me and hung up.
"You're Frank Iero?" She sounded bored. I nodded, who else was I gonna be? The Queen of England? The Dalai Lama? Santa Claus? Last time I checked, Santa didn't fit into a pair of skinny jeans.
"Your stuff is here." She shoved a folder full of papers at me.
"Thanks." I mumbled.
"Head to the principal's office, she'll tell you where to go" is all I got out of her as a reply. She was such a bitch. Folder under my arm, I picked my way to to the principal's office. She told me to go to Mr. Golden's room. No directions, just my locker combination and a falsely cheery goodbye. GAH. Someone kill me. Oh, looks like someone is going to. As I pushed my way through the crowds, someone yanked on my arm.
"New kid?" A voice asked.
"Whaddya fucking think?" I snapped, pulling my arm away and turning towards a guy with strawberry blonde hair.
"I think your hoodie is fucking awesome," he grinned at me, lip ring glinting. "I'm Bob. Bob Bryar."
"Frank Iero, and I love Green Day," I acknowledged the bag slung casually over his shoulder.
"Thanks. American Idiot and Dookie are definitely my favourite albums." CAN I MARRY THIS BOB BRYAR DUDE.
"American Idiot, eh?" OH FUCK YES.
"Yup. Boulevard of Broken Dreams is obviously the best track on the album." Oh. Shit's gonna go down now.
"No fucking way!! Wake Me Up When September Ends!!"
"Boulevard!"
"September!"
That went on for a while. And when I say a while, I meant through English and Biology. During those two (chaotic) periods, Bob definitely became a friend. A really good friend. Such a good friend and partner in crime that I let him coax me into meeting his few friends. Y'see, people like us- the ones who wear eyeliner and listen to rock and punk and stuff like that, we get called 'goth' and 'emo' and 'gay'. Bob told me all about that when we were meant to be doing Biology work. He gets it too, and so do his friends.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING RIIIIIING RIIIIIIING!!
The shrill bell shattered the air around us.
"Fuck, that thing's loud."
Bob nodded in agreement. "You bet your ass it is."
"I like my ass so I won't bet it." And with that, I slid to the lockers. Shoving the books I didn't need in, I slammed the cold metal door.
"C'mon, cafeteria's this way," Bob gestured towards a massive sickly-mint-green door. Ew, what sane person paints a door that color?!?!?
Following the strawberry blonde through the disgusting doors, I gasped. It was fucking HUGE. And so bloody brightly colored. No, the walls werent, the people in there were. They wore all different shades and colors and it made my eyes hurt. The worst patches were obviously the cheerleader's table and the jocks. Agh. Someone hide me. Now. Before I could shrivel up and die like I wanted to, Bob shoved me to a table.
"Mikey, Ray, meet Frank. He's like us." He grinned and pointed at a seat next to the dude with a huge-ass 'fro.
"I'm Ray," the dude with the 'fro grinned.
"Frank. Nice to meet you... And the cat on your head's name?"
There was an awkward silence.
"... Ray Junior."