Pretty in Punk [ Peterick Crossdressing ]

[ Sketch ]

Patrick:

Math was torturously slow. We were surprised with a pop quiz on geometry. Thanks, Mr. Hoppus; that threw me off completely! Surely my grade dropped by 20% - I wish we still did percents and division in math class.

I also wish I were Dan Howell in this situation - he's been skillful in the entire unit so far! Meanwhile, I've been stressing about my semester grade. Why couldn't I have been a math genius rather than science nerd?

Well, good news is lunch is nearing. I forgot to ask Ryan when he has lunch, so I doubt he'll be there. I guess I can stand another lunch by myself. Plus that grade has literally got me down. I know how lousy my math skills are, but I will still cry and throw a little fit when I see my low excuse for a grade.

I feel terrible about myself. And I was so awkward with Ryan. I'm seeing all the fake smiles of sympathy from him and the way I stand with my arms closed and overlapped sneakers. I honestly don't want to be with him right now. But only because I pity him. Why does he have to go out with me? Why did Gerard have to choose him? Why did I agree in the first place, knowing the wreck I am?

I don't feel so well. It's all like our set-up of a date. Everyone rushes to the door and turns in their papers. I feel even worst when I turn in an incomplete page.

"You may have to redo this one, Stumph." My eyes water behind my glasses as I hear Mr. Hoppus call me out, some students turning to me.

I don't say anything, I just head to the restrooms downstairs, near the cafeteria. I ignore the lineup of hungry students and zoom past them, setting down my books on the floor and entering a stall.

I can't puke anything... So now I stand awkwardly in the walls of a corrupted, school bathroom. And this is how I'm spending my lunch.

Pete:

I find Mikey in the crowd of starved teens and run to him. He smiles when I tap his shoulder and starts filling a tray.

"Are you gonna eat, Pete? Hey, that rhymed!" Mikey giggles.

"Can you just get me an apple?" I ask him patiently and he nods.

"Here you go. And come sit with me before Gerard does - or he'll start hitting on you." Mikey laughs, scanning his ID card to pay for lunch.

"Thanks." I take the apple and wipe it.

We walk to the table farthest from the serving tables and start discussing Brendon's plan.

"Do you really think we can find him? It's so packed in here!" I doubtingly ask as I turn my head left and right.

"So? You found me easily. Plus he's shy; I doubt he will be mixed in one of the crowds." Mikey states confidently, eating his sandwich.

"As far as you know him... You never surely know anything about someone until after meeting them." I argue back, biting into the cold apple. I grimace at the sourness. Then Mikey and I continue to scan the area.

"Okay. But I'm just making inferences - which is fair - about the way he acts in my class."

"Whatever." I grumble, biting the apple more and scavenging the room for a hat. It just gets my blood boiling when people are prejudice or jump to conclusions based on one little thing. I can't even trust some friends because of how easily they are persuaded.

"Do you wanna go check the restroom? He could be in there." Mikey suggests after we easily give up on the search.

"I guess Brendon will only come back and bite me in the ass later on if I don't, huh?" I sigh, getting up from the crooked bench. Mikey smiles with his mouth full and nods.

"Knowing Beebo, he might do that literally." He chuckles and I shrug. Meh, probably.

I sigh in annoyance as I walk to the dirty bathrooms. I start to think twice when I see a stack of books on the floor. I inaudibly gasp as I look at a drawing of what seems to be a boy in a dress. My cheeks blush a little as I look into the mirror before inhaling a breath.

Pete, you don't have to... Maybe this kid is misunderstood. Remind you of anyone? What about being prejudice? Don't let people change you...

But to my horror, one of the stalls is shut. And I hear mumbling, confirming that it's in use.

"Hey, is... is someone in there?" I ask weakly, tangling my legs as I hear a door click.

"Hm." The voice stopped. Maybe they want me to go in?

"Can I come in...?" I ask uncomfortably. Why are they doing this? Why did I ask in the first place?

"I could care less." I hear a small voice.

"Uhm... I gotta check up on you, dude." My mouth swirls as I conclude my decision.

I push the mucky door open to see a red-faced blonde with dazzling blue eyes. His hair is tamed beneath a cap, few strands swept over his forehead and some dangling in front of his ears.

"Oh. Hello..." I say rather breathily. His eyebrows lower slightly and I feel my face heat up.