Oh, How Your Pencil Moves

CHAPTER ONE

Frank chews nonchalantly on the ends of his pencil. He thinks about his life. His life has never been bad, or good. Nothing made his life a living Hell, but nothing made it paradise. Frank has the normal teenage problems. Parents suck, school sucks, bullies suck, shitty horror movies suck and hormones suck. Nothing specifically made him this way. Nothing made him want to burn down everything around him. It’s not his fault. He just wishes that somehow, everything would fall. Everything would come crashing down around him. Frank secretly enjoys the sadness, his own self destruction. But who doesn’t? Everyone likes to be sad at times. But no, this is becoming too much. He can’t take the never ending black cloud that hovers in his mind. There is no way for him to get it out, no way for him to be rid of the plague in his mind. He can’t talk about it, he must write about it.

Frank opens his notebook and flips passed some pages of notes. He doesn’t really care for what Mr. Way is ranting about. Grant it, Mr. Way is a great teacher. Everything is said with so much passion. Frank also thinks that Mr. Way actually cares about his students. This surprises Frank, because most of his teachers are working for a pay check. Not Mr. Way, he animates every word with a hand gesture and a smile. Frank wonders what he’s like out of the classroom. What he does in his free time. He can’t be a science teacher all the time.

The other thing about Mr. Way is that he isn’t just a science teacher, he also covers art for two periods, and advanced band for another period. Frank guesses that he is extremely talented. Frank giggles. He can come up with a few ways Mr. Way can use those talents.

He would bend me over his desk. His hands would come up and grip my ass. “Listen Frank, you don’t come until I tell you. Understand?” I wouldn’t speak to him, all the air has been forced out of my lungs. Instead I would settle for a nod of the head. He would hum a response and kiss the base of my spine.

“But I bet you like being bad, don’t you. I bet you’re kinda a slut too. Huh Frankie? You a slut?”

I would moan and grip the edge of the table until my knuckles were white. “Please.” I would beg and moan; sounding like the slut he makes me out to be. “Please Mr. Way.” I would writhe against him.

The bell cuts off the rest of what Frank was jotting in his notebook. He closes it quickly and blushes. Frank shoves his belongings in his messenger back and scurries out of his science class, missing when Mr. Way tries to smile at him.

CHAPTER TWO

Frank opened up his notebook the next day. He flipped to what he thought was a blank page. Instead it had the writing from yesterday. Frank wanted to rip it out, he really did, but he couldn’t. Something about having that in his notebook, the fact the Mr. Way could see it at anytime, gave him an adrenaline rush. Frank felt like he was robbing a bank, or doing something equally as bad.

Mr. Way was sauntering around the class as the students wrote up their labs. Frank flipped to the page in his book and sighed. He didn’t give a fuck about any of this shit. He didn’t need this. Frank was going to go on and be a fucking rock star, like Jim Morrison or Jimi Hendrix. He didn’t need the fucking periodic table of elements for that.

Mr. Way leaned over Frank. “Mr. Iero, are you ok?”

Frank could feel the soft fabric of Mr. Way’s tie brushing against his shoulder. Frank tried not to collapse in on himself when Mr. Way started to talk about lithium. His breath had the faint smell of mint, and something else Frank couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Smoke.

Oh god, way to be even more sexy.

“Frank?”