Tutorial | Brendon Urie

Chapter Twenty Five

                 

Later tonight, more on the teacher-student sex crisis at Bridgeman High as we interview witnesses of the canoodling and fondling happening on school grounds. Stay tuned.

My parents haven't left the house since the very first night the story aired. I've had to do the groceries, the errands, handle the bills and the rest of it. It must be so difficult and embarrassing for them to be parents to such a shameless and ungrateful piece of shit like me. It really sucks that they are forced to become recluses because they can't face the finger pointing and whispering of their fellow neighbours and PTA friends. I can't imagine the immense stress and anxiety they must be feeling.

I, on the other hand, have only received positive reactions from my community. Sometimes people will leave nice gifts in the mailbox. Like the morning after the news broke, someone put a box of used condoms on my windowsill. So thoughtful and kind. The other night, when I was checking my social medias, I had a few messages from fake accounts telling me how much of a big whore I am. I couldn't thank them enough for their sweet words.

My teachers have been the best though. Especially the male ones. They give me special treatment. Like how when I forgot my sports uniform the week after the first sound of our affair hit the wind, Mr. Newman gave me the extra-small shorts instead of my usual medium sized ones. He's such a nice and caring man.

Brendon hasn't spoken to me for days now. He called me the night it happened, but I haven't heard from him since. Maybe he's left town because he can't bare to show his face around these people. He might be ignoring me because he's trying to figure out a way to tell me he never wants to see me again. I bet he's just trying to force some distance between us because I've done this to him. I made him not only a laughing stock, but a horrible villain in this community. Where could he possibly go where people won't know about his affairs with me? Maybe like, Lithuania or something.

Honestly, I haven't really spoken to anyone. I don't know what they're going to say to me. Whether it's 'you're disgusting' or 'I'm so sorry this is happening to you', I don't want to hear it. I just don't have time for pity or loathing right now.

My body slumps into the sofa as the perky, lifted hair of the news anchor bounces around her smiling face.

Soon-to-be graduate, Grace Drake, has been caught getting a little too close for comfort with Romanhouse University student teacher, Brendon Urie. We have Channel 21 representative, Nick Brody at Bridgeman High with more on the scandal.

The screen splits to reveal a young man, maybe twenty-something, clutching a microphone in front of the huge doors of the school. His ashy brown hair flicks into his eyes as he desperately bats them away.

"Hey Sandy. I'm here at Bridgeman High School, an institute previously known for its growing alumni of achievers, has now been targeted by locals for employing child predators and producing sexual deviants. We have reached out to Principal Wheelings for a comment but we have not received anything yet."

Sandy's bright blue eyes narrow as she leans forward over her birch desk.

"I understand you have a student with you?" She wiggles her pen towards the camera.

"Yes, Sandy. Here we have Jeremy Shooter, linebacker for the Bridgeman Badgers, with some interesting information on the issue." The name Jeremy sends a bullet down my spine, jolting my body upright.

The camera swivels slightly to reveal a stocky kid in the school bomber jacket. His forehead drapes slightly over his eyes, reminding me of a neanderthal exhibit I once saw at some museum in the city.

As his voice bellows into the microphone, I remember the night Brendon and I first had sex. "Uh, yeah," he slurps some spit up from the corner of his mouth, "one night when I was with my friends out by highway 28 or whatever, I saw that Urie's car on the side of the road, so we went to check it out." He pauses slightly and looks into the barrel of the camera.