Tutorial | Brendon Urie

Chapter Twenty Six

"I can't fucking believe that piece of shit would lie like that, on live television no less. He's such a numbnut. Did you see this spit hanging out of his mouth? I gagged on the spot. He disgusts me." Dawn yells at the air in front of her.

"It's okay, Grace. We still love you." Conner places his hand on my knee.

Jackson sits up from his black sunken beanbag. "Look, if people are going to talk shit, they're going to talk shit. There's not much you can do about it. Just keep it together and ignore it."

"Thanks guys. It means a lot." My hair falls all around my face, but there's no use tucking it back. It'll just hang back down again.

Conner takes his hand from my knee and intertwines his fingers with mine. "Grace, everything will be okay. I promise you."

More promises. More and more promises that people are forced to make, yet they can't be kept. When's the last time anyone actually kept a promise like that? You can't make a promise about something that's out of your control. You're kidding yourself. Sure, it'll make them feel better, but is it worth it if you're lying to them?

"I just feel bad for Brendon, I guess."

"Dude, he doesn't care. He is so incredibly in love with you." Conner tugs on my arm slightly, tightening his grip around my knuckles.

"As if he actually doesn't care though. The people literally want to carry pitchforks and gasoline torches to his house. Everybody hates him."

"Everybody hates you too," Jackson shrugs.

Dawn pitches a pillow right at his face, sending him falling back into the crunch of the polystyrene balls. "Shut up Jackson, you sack of shit."

"I don't care about that though," I sigh. I wasn't exactly a prominent member of the community, so my sudden alienation isn't really that shocking to me. It's a little relieving, actually.

"Exactly," he is stifled by the poly-blend cushion, "that's probably how Brendon feels. Doesn't care. Like you."

Perhaps Brendon was telling the truth. That he really isn't concerned with the opinions of everyone else.

The night we went to dinner, while I was reading through the incredibly dear menu, I'd peek over the top to find his menu closed on the table. I glanced up to see what he was doing, and what he was doing was staring at me. When I put the menu down, he'd pick his up.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"I'm reading the menu. You?" He replied.

Even when the waiter came, he had to ask for a few extra minutes. The waiter had to come back three times before Brendon was ready to order. I doubt the waiter was very impressed by Brendon's lack of decisiveness.

"I wonder how the news even found out about it. Like, who could've told?" Conner drops my hand and shoves a fist into his hoodie pocket.

"I don't know. The only people who knew is you guys really." I gesture towards our tiny circle. "None of you would've done it anyway. It must have been Ms. Phillips. She's the only other person who knows. Besides my parents, but I mean, obviously, they're ruled out."

"That bitch has always had it out for you." Dawn points a stern finger at me.

"I say we fight her." Jackson takes more than a few seconds to pull himself out of the bean bag.

I shake my head. "We're not going to fight her, Jackson."

"We should do something," Conner reaches out a hand for Jackson to pull him up off the ground.