(I like wrote eveything in my notes so all i do is just copy and paste 😂😂and put it in my book)
Gerard's P.O.V.
***
I need to switch classes.
I want to go back to Chemistry. For one, P.E. is killing me and everyone knows it. Secondly, Frank is in Chemistry. I want to be with him and Mikey. And finally, Chemistry is just... It's not my favorite, but anything is better than Mr. Alex's class.
"Gerard! Hurry up, you're gonna be late!" I hear my mother screech from upstairs, and I put down my pencil. I'm trying to finish a sketch, and she's been yelling at me at five minute intervals for thirty minutes. "Fine! Fine! I'm coming!" I call back, stacking back up the papers and picking up my backpack. I make sure that my tie is decent, though I have no idea how to even tie a tie. My mom usually takes care of it, but she's sick.
I ascend the stairs in time to see my mother harassing Mikey about his hair and glasses. "And they're always at the end of your nose! Your hair is a mess!" she croaks, her voice hoarse. She's reclined in one of the chairs in the living room, a blanket across her legs and a bowl of soup in her lap. She had spent most of the night puking her guts out, which was an awful sound to endure. "And you!" she turns on me, jabbing a long finger in my direction, "Your room is so dark! You need a light in there! It's ridiculous! You two are animals!"
I exchange an amused glance with Mikey, and then kiss my mother on top of her head. She bats me away and returns to her morning television program, and Mikey and I walk out the door.
Once we make it to the sidewalk, Mikey sniffs loudly. "She's such a toad sometimes," he comments, "My fucking glasses. My fucking sinuses are fucked up." I laugh at the way "fucking" always makes it into Mikey's sentences, and then nod. "I can see that. And hear that. We're still having croquet practice after school, because we need to try out Frank," I tell him, and he whines.
"Noooo!" he whimpers, crossing his arms, "I don't wanna! It's cold and you're ugly!" My looks, though scandalous and voluptuous, have nothing to do with Mikey not wanting to practice, but I ignore him with a small wave of my hand. "Whatever. I'm also switching back into Chemistry, because I'm sick and tired of the way that Alex treats me," I add angrily, running a hand through my greasy hair. I still didn't wash it last night.
Mikey mutters a few choice words of protest, along the lines of "fuck you" and "I don't need my bastard of a brother in another one of my classes" or "fuck my life", but I again ignore him. He's a cocky, sardonic little bitch.
We walk all the way to the school, and I spot Ray all the way from the courtyard. He's leaning against the frame of the school's door, eating what looks like an apple. "Well, I'll be in your first period class as long as I get changed out. See you!" I say to Mikey, making my way through the crowd of high schoolers. Ray sees me and waves, throwing the apple core aside. After second thoughts, he picks up the apple core and throws it into the trash can, receiving several odd looks from onlookers.
"Hey," he says as I approach him, and we enter the school building together. "I'm switching over to Chemistry," I state, and he waves to me as I turn into the school's guidance office. Our counselor is sitting behind the desk, feet on top of it. "Good morning, Mr. Joseph," I greet respectfully, knowing that he can get kind of emotional at times.
