Malignant

Chapter Two

   After my mom found out what happened, for the eighty-seventh time in five years, she finally made a good decision. I'm surprised she'd ever want to do anything for me, since I am her 'bastard faggot son'. But, as of today, I no longer live in Newark. We're moving to a smaller town in New Jersey, called Belleville. My mom bought a house, and we're packing away all of our stuff. We already packed all of the furniture, so our house is bare.

   I'm in my room, contemplating what goes and what doesn't. All I've packed is my clothes. Clothes upon clothes and nothing else. My mom asked me what happened to my nose and lip rings, but I just said I lost them. I might buy new ones once we move. My camera got completely smashed, but thankfully I have my older one, the one my dad got me.

   "Frank! Hurry up, the moving truck is about to come!"

   I quickly grab my camera and extra film, my guitar, my little radio, and my few good pictures and their journals. I stuff them in my last box and walk down the stairs.

   "CC, are you ready to leave?"

   "Yep, Frank, all packed up!," he says before exiting the house.

 "Mom, did you grab everything we need?"

 "I believe so, Frank," she says. I know she's mad at me, but that's just natural. The only thing that makes her happy is drinking and meeting new 'friends'. And when I say meeting I mean fucking and then never communicating with them again.

 "Okay, Mom. I'll go put these in the van and then I can come back and lock the door for you."

   We moved into the new house about two days ago. We live in a very tiny neighborhood, surrounded by trees and a lake. The school's only a five minute walk instead of a three hour walk, which is well appreciated. Today's my first day.

   I wake up in my room, that's almost like my old one, except bigger. My guitar now is in a separate corner than my dresser, with a tiny piano and microphone. My mom has finally accepted that I want to go into music and not photography. Even though I do like taking pictures of anything and everything I can.

   "Come on, Frank! You can't be late for your first day! And plus, I don't want to have to call the school and talk about my wimpy child. So don't make me."

  I run down the stairs and almost trip right over the bottom step. I hug my mom and CC, and I'm out the door. I decided to be who I am, so I'm wearing black jeans, a Misfits t-shirt, a leather vest, white converse, and two brand new rings on my lip and nose.

   The walk to school is boring, but I think that's just because I don't believe anyone's going to try and attack me, which is a nice change.

   As soon as I'm at the school, I'm amazed. It's two times bigger than my old one, and ten times nicer. I love it already. My first class is math, my worst subject. And when I say worst I mean worst! I might stink at science, and I can't comprehend anything for history, sure, I sometimes can't use correct grammar, and I can't read a one-hundred page book in two days, but none of the equations make the slightest sense to me.

   As soon as I walk in, I feel the stares of everyone. I scan the room for an empty seat, and see one next to this guy. He has black hair the length of his shoulders, and is wearing a leather jacket with white flowers over a very girly pink shirt. I must say, he's pulling off the nice girly-punk. But what totally captures my eye is the fact that he's wearing a skirt! It's black leather, with a chain on the one side.

   I sit down next to this kid, and he doesn't even pay attention to me, even though I'm watching him almost all class. I can feel my eyes gravitating towards him, even though I don't know why. I can barely even describe this feeling, yet it's teetering on a feeling I knew once about three years ago. Do I just admire the look and his confidence to wear such girly things, or do I like him? Whatever it is, I just can't take my eyes off of him. He makes it impossible to pay attention, and I zone out. I don't care if I fail the class; there's a pretty boy here. I might be able to do good things here.