Live Forever In The Lights You Make

1. You're Never Gonna Fit In Much Kid

Chapter 1: You're Never Gonna Fit In Much, Kid

"Late again, Foster?"

Ms. Watson, the school secretary, stares me down as I enter the near-empty office, tapping her pen impatiently against the desk.

I look around and shrug, raising my eyebrows and pursing my lips in an effort to fight a smirk. "I guess so, Ms. Watson!" I reply in an overly-cheerful, borderline-sarcastic voice.

"Is there a valid reason as to why?" Every syllable of her voice drips with disapproval.

"Dentist appointment," I lie quickly, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Again? Do you have a note?"

I rack my brain for an excuse. "I think I left it in my car. I can go get it, if you want," I say brightly, starting for the door.

"No, no, just get to class," Ms. Watson sighs, tearing out a late pass and handing it to me.

"Thanks, Ms. Watson!" I call, waving and tossing my dyed-black hair over my shoulder as I stroll out of the office. She just shakes her head at me.

I slip off the oversized flannel I had worn because of the October air as I walk down the hall, exposing a tight-fitting, black scoop-neck that I had paired with ripped black skinny jeans and red Converse low-tops.

Of course I haven't been at the dentist. Thinking back, I realize I had told her the same thing on Tuesday, and make a mental note to come up with a better variety of excuses for my morning excursions.

I arrive at my locker, fishing around in my backpack's front pocket for my iPod. I'm about to put in my earbuds when I hear a loud sound coming from four lockers down.

It sounds like someone struggling and banging on the metal from the inside. I slowly make my way over, standing on my toes and cautiously peering into the small slits of the door.

I jump back when I see a pair of long-lashed, hazel eyes staring back. "I could use a little help here," says an irritated voice from the locker.

"What?" I say slowly, not being able to tear myself away from those eyes.

The eyes roll, and I hear a sigh. "I kind of need help getting out of here."

I try to regain my composure, drawing myself up and flicking my hair out of my face. "What are you even doing in there anyway?"

"Could you please just help me get out?"

"Fine." I spin the dial a few times and pull on the lock, but it doesn't budge.

"I'm so glad you know how to open a locker," the voice says drily.

"Shut up!" Frustrated, I kick the bottom of the locker twice and pull hard on the lock.

To my surprise, the door swings open to reveal a hunched-over boy with feathery black hair and pale skin. A smirk graces his lips as he steps out and looks me up and down. "Thanks, princess."

I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. "I could just as easily shove you right back into that locker."

He puts his hands up and shakes his hair out of his eyes, looking at me innocently. "Sorry. Thanks for getting me out, though."

"No problem." I shrug. "Who even are you?"

"The name's Gerard Way," the boy says, looking at the ground. "You?"

"Foster," I say shortly. "You're new here, I'm guessing?"

"Yup," Gerard says, popping the "p". "So, is shoving people into lockers some sort of initiation for their first day?"

"Not that I know of," I laugh.

"Well, it's not like it didn't happen at my old school." Gerard shrugs, and I can't help but feel bad for him.

I take a step back, looking at him. He's wearing black, worn-in Converses, black skinny jeans that are uncomfortably similar to my own, and a dark gray Misfits shirt. Though I admire his style, I can see how he would make an easy target.

"Do you actually know who the Misfits are?" I ask, jutting my hip out and crossing my arms.

Gerard looks at me incredulously and nods, his hair bouncing slightly as his head bobs up and down. "Of course!" he scoffs. "Do you?"

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Do you really think I'd grill you about them if I didn't?"

"Wow," he says, grinning and holding up his hand. "You're pretty cool."

"I wish I could say the same for you," I joke, high-fiving him and glancing at the clock.

"Shoot," I mutter.

"What?"

"Passing time is in ten minutes," I groan. A moment of silence passes as we study each other.

A mischievous grin tugs at the corners of Gerard's lips as he stares back at me. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I barely even know you," I sigh, fervently shifting my weight from one leg to another.

"So?"

"You could be a serial killer for all I know."

Gerard rolls his eyes and places a hand on his hip. "Are you really going to try to use that one on me, princess?"

"Are you really going to call me 'princess'?" I sling my half-open backpack over my shoulder and start down the hallway. "Follow me."

AN: Hey loves! So this is an idea I've had in my head for a while now, and I thought I might as well give it a try. "Flooded Lungs" will remain my main story, so expect an update of that soon, as well as the next installment of this story. ~xoxo