Mikey's P.O.V.
***
I honestly despise croquet.
Don't get me wrong, I love Gee and all, but when it comes to croquet and anything that has to do with the sport, he's way too overbearing. Today's practice was surprisingly short and simple, but that was only because of Frank being here. God bless him, though, because I'm never in the mood for croquet. Ever.
"Frank isn't too bad," Gerard muses, his bags slung over his shoulder, "I mean, he's not the best. But he seems pretty into it, even if he's slightly arrogant about the whole thing." I roll my eyes and shift my hand into a more comfortable position; I'm holding my own bag, and its handle is digging into my palm painfully. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. You've been talking about him all day. Just, like, ask him out already," I suggest irritably, and Gee's eyes widen like I had just claimed to be Osama or something.
"N-No! I don't like him like that," he grunts defensively, but even I can see the color rush to his face as he tries to hide it. I coo teasingly, and he slaps me. "Shut up! I don't like him!" Gee insists, and I shrug and raise my eyebrow as "'S okay. You're secret is safe with me," I jeer, receiving another smack from Gerard. I laugh dryly, but I can tell he's not done. "Wanna talk about secrets? Let's talk about secrets," he threatens, and my lungs suddenly constrict.
He doesn't know anything. "You're bluffing," I spit sourly, and he smirks. "Oh, but I'm not," Gee slurs bitterly, "I know that you sometimes sneak out at night to hit up your little band practices. I also know that you've smoked a few times. You drink, too, but not too often. Oh, and you like Ray a lot more than just friends."
I turn red in the face and my heart flutters in embarrassment. All of the things he had just stated were true, and even if I try to deny it, even I know that everything that he had said was the honest truth. "I... You can't tell Donna," I say desperately, my voice raspy and suddenly quiet. Gee chuckles, his voice full of power and black mail. "Oh, I won't. Besides, you know more than I'd like you to know, too, so I wouldn't even think about it," he replies.
"Like the fact that you like-like Frank?" I say testingly, and Gerard stops walking to glare at me. "You're such an ass-hat. Say that again. I dare you," he contests seriously, and I sigh and continue to walk. Of all days to tease Gee, today he has to take everything so seriously. And it's not even like his attraction to Frank is secretive. Oh, no, we all know he likes Frank. And we also know that Frank likes him. Their friendship is more than what it seems, and it's borderline sexual at times.
That's not just a friendship.
We walk to the mailbox of our house, check the mail, and then walk inside. I take the key to the house out of my pocket, and then unlock the door. "Mom?" Gerard calls once I open the door, to which silence greets him.
She must be out, I guess.
"Odd. Oh, well, I barely have any homework, so I think that I'll..." Gerard starts, dropping his bag my the counter and walking to the fridge. I already know what's going to happen, so I scream shrilly and dash to my room, slamming the door close and throwing my stuff onto the bed.
Ray and I have decided that Gee has a lemon fetish. He has a very sexual relationship with those lemons, or with any lemon, actually. It's very disturbing, and I don't need to witness another game of "How Many Lemons Can Gerard Fit In His Mouth?". I quickly whip out my phone and call Ray, adding Frank to the call as well.
Both of them pick up, and I rush, "Code Yellow, Code Yellow! Return of the Lemon Gee!" Ray laughs heartily, and Frank asks, "What? What the fuck is that?"
I remember that we haven't exactly explained everything to Frank, so I continue, "Gerard has this lemon fetish, and he's at it again. I'm currently hiding out at Base Mikey. Survival of the fittest, and every man for himself!" With that, I quickly hang up, and then laugh to myself. How I manage to blow things so out of proportion, I'm not sure.
"Oh Mikey!" Gerard chimes, but I can hardly understand him. I'm guessing that his mouth is full of lemons.
"No! You'll never take me alive!" I cry, silently cursing the fact that my door doesn't have a lock on it, and I throw myself at my door. Gerard chuckles from a few feet away outside my door, and even though I'm taller than him, he has more strength to throw at my door. Thus, as Gerard turns the door's knob and pushed himself against it, I fall over and he bursts into my room.
I close my eyes and push my glasses up a bit, but as Gerard pulls me to my feet, I still refuse to open my eyes. "No! No!" I scream, and Gerard nearly chokes from laughter. "Yo so funnay," he manages, and I open my eyes just for a glimpse of my very weird brother.
Low and behold, his mouth contains two large lemons, his eyes full of lemon-lust, I call it. I shriek and push him off of me, throwing myself onto my bed and nearly losing my breath. Gerard finally relents, and he leaves my room with a victorious giggle, and I search for my inhaler. Upon finding it, I breathe in deeply and take a puff. What was really stupid was that I once smoked a cigarette or two, not taking into account my asthma, and I had an asthma attack.
That was awful.
I decide to get started on some homework, and Gerard calls, "I'm gonna be in my room if you need me!" I scoff to myself and prop open my laptop, knowing that I need to get started on my report on the Great Emu War. It's a few days over-due, but Mr. McIlrath agreed to give me more time. I open up my browser and type in "The Great Emu War", clicking on the first result that pops up.
It's not that I don't like school. It's just that I don't like working. In school.
I don't like Social Studies.
Wikipedia is an amazing website, and I marvel at its ability to contain every single event in the world as I read about the war.
I hear Gerard cough, and then his footsteps disappear as he heads downstairs. He'll usually make a cup of coffee when he comes home, and then he'll go downstairs and sing and draw to his heart's content. He often forgets to do his homework, but I'm more than willing to share my answers. Besides, they don't have to be right. Gerard usually pays me back somehow, whether it be a small favor or actual money.
Opening Word, I begin the art of copy and paste, altering the words slightly to make it my own. I change the font size to fourteen, because Mr. McIlrath never specified the format, and I also double-space the essay. That way, he can't say that I don't have a format.
I finish the paper relatively fast, and then I begin some of my other homework. There's not much, but I still want to get it done so that I can practice my bass and get on Tumblr.
Even though I'm not particularly fond of school, I love the people I meet there (for the most part) and a lot of the teachers. Mr. Brendon, for example. And Mr. Pete.
And Ray.
