Carving Pumpkins (Frank Iero)

Her

Her

I fiddled with my tie, keeping my eyes trained on the floor. I tried to block out the noise; my ears were entirely too sensitive to be in this room with all these people yelling. I considered putting in my headphones, blasting some Pennywise or Misfits, but then I heard footsteps in the hallway. I was surprised that I could hear anything at all over the screams of intolerable babbling. 

The door opened and I knew who it was immediatley. I could tell from his natural musk. I would always remember that smell. I looked up and met his hazel eyes. 

He looked at me and tripped over his feet on his way to the back of the room. Just as the boy looked at me again and turned a bright shade of red, Mr. Maryam walked into the room.

Mr. Maryam was a strict, unhappy man. He was never satisfied wih his students, never satisfied with his life in general.

One day, when I accidentally let my guard down and looked up into Mr. Maryam's eyes, I saw everything. His horrible childhood, his abusive father, his hateful wife, his spiteful, grown children, his future plans to hang himself in the foyer of his living room in his western suburban home.

But did that really have anything to do with me?

I looked back up at the boy, who was now stumbling up to the front of the room, rolling his eyes so hard that I was surprised they didn't pop out of his skull.

"Frank." He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and flipping his brown bands aside. "Frank Iero."

My expression never faltered as he looked at me again, tripping over his own feet on the way back to his desk. I cursed myself for thinking about Frank throughout class instead of listening to the lesson.

Oh, well. I'll just get it from someone's mind tomorrow.

After lunch, I watched Frank race down the hall to the west wing of the school, seemingly following the throngs of seniors who were headed to their classes on the fourth floor.

I wondered about Frank a lot. It was times like these that made me question his life choices. Because I couldn't read his mind for some odd reason, I couldn't tell his motives and plans. So, like any other mortal, I had to use my intuition.

Unfortunately.

I silently followed him, taking care that I was quiet. I knew that he couldn't hear me, because he never even turned around to look over his shoulder, like most paranoid people do in empty halls and rooms.

Pretty soon, Frank led us up onto the fourth floor, where all the seniors were attending class. I snickered silently and watched Frank slide down to sit on the floor, his back against the wall. He huffed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair, setting his bag down next him.

I finally figured that I should help him instead of watch him suffer. I took a deep- and silent -breath and emerged from around the corner that I had perched behind. 

"Need some help?" I asked, cocking my head to the side and grinning a little. 

Frank jumped about a foot in the air, flailing like a fish out of water when he heard my voice. I cringed at him. I'd tried to make my voice as smooth as possible, tried not to scare him.

Well, better try harder.

"God, what?!" He breathed, looking around warily.

"Um, you okay?" I asked slowly, taking a step toward him. I wanted to help the kid, not give him an aneurysm.

I walked over to where Frank was sitting and squatted down to his eye level, my face inches from his. Involuntarily, of course. I didn't really enjoy getting too close to people; the closer I got, the more of that person's negative thoughts I could hear. But, then again, I couldn't hear any of Frank's thoughts.