12th grade. Shit. This was going to be fun. The only thing I had been looking forward to was choir. But that had quickly faded when we were emailed the news. Mrs.Rhodes had died suddenly from a hit & run. I didn't really know how to take the news. I didn't cry. Of course I didn't cry. I was a heartless bitch. But that didn't stop me from being shocked. I thought Mrs.Rhodes was cool. Not anymore, I guess.
I had heard we had a male choir teacher now. Fucking great. I hated all the male substitutes we had. I hated all our substitutes really, but the male ones especially. I decided to not give a shit and quit worrying about it.
That's what attitude I was going into this year with.
The I don't give a shit one.
Already I had decided to give into the label I was given. My black eyeliner smudged around my eyes. My messy platinum blonde hair. Along with the arms full of wrist bands. I paired my already "emo" look with my ripped black jeans, my black Pink Floyd shirt, and some black sneaks. Which all stood out against my porcaline skin.
Even though I lived in Central Texas, I never bothered to get tan like every other girl that lived in this fucking state. Plus I didn't tan well, but I always went with the not caring bit.
I walked through the hallways alone. The few friends I did have had classes on the other side of the school. So I remained socially withdrawn from everyone else I had in my classes. Often not talking at all through out the day. And when I did, it was most likely to reply to a snide comment with my own sarcastic remark. And I usually ended out on top in those situations.
I was pretty tall. Or everyone in our school was super short. I was even taller than most of my teachers even though I was only about 5 foot 7 inches. Along with my "scary" exterior, I managed to intimidate most people enough that I never really had to defend myself much. Even though I knew I was most everyones topic of conversation. I was so out of the ordinary these days I guess.
Every other girl at Leander High was wearing slut shorts, Hollister tops, and the most uncomfortable footwear they could manage to find. Along with blonde hair, not quite as bleach blonde as I managed to dye mine though, dark tans, and pedicured nails. (I prefered my bitten to the stub nails with a couple of coats of black polish.)
I wandered into choir. The previous class periods being awfully boring. Just our new teachers lecturing us about how they did things in their class. I had no fun teachers this year. I could tell by the body language they used. Or by the lack of it. Most fun teachers are really loose and talk with there hands alot. My teachers this year were fucking stiffs. Staring straight at me most of the time. Even though I made it a point to sit at the back of the class. They'd find out later that they were wrong; that I was the quiet one who did at least the majority of their work.
Nobody else was in the class yet. Just the teacher. I walked in silently. He was playing the piano. Quite beautifully I might add. A mess of bright, red hair sat on the piano bench. It looked familiar. But I couldn't figure out why. That was until I saw his face.
I walked past him heading to the back row of chairs on the highest step in the room. I'd be placed back there anyway with my height. He smiled at me and I almost passed out. He frowned as my breath caught in my throat. And then tilted his head at me as I quickly pasted the bored look back on my face. I recognized him alright. You better believe I fucking recognized him. But I didn't want to make that known. I knew no one else in this school would recognize him. I doubt even the people who hired him knew who he was. Which he probably liked. I wasn't about to ruin that for him.
"I'm Mr. Way." He spoke. Attempting to fill the silence. I nodded at him and gave no reply. "Gerard Way?" He seemed to question. Like he wanted to be recognized. I sighed. Nobody else had come into class yet. Making it even more awkward. "Yes, I know." I spat at him bitterly. I became extrememly interested in my nails. He sighed. Looking around the corner of the door from his bench. "Everyone is always late to choir. Don't expect much. Even though they are Varsity, they're still bitches." He looked at me with his eyebrow raised as I explained. He didn't say anything about my language. I didn't think he would. "How long do they take?" He asked. "Usually around 5 minutes. Double that since it's the first day. Maybe triple it, I don't know." I responded.
I wanted a ciggerette all the sudden. I hadn't wanted a ciggerette in awhile. I think it was the smell he was giving off. Mixed with coffee of course. I expected nothing less from him. "Do you still smoke?" I asked. He nodded cautiously. I gave him a nod back. "So you know who I am?" He asked, still cautious. I nodded again. "I love your music." I said. "Past and present." I added. He nodded. "You won't have to worry about anyone else recognizing you. Trust me. This school has no taste for good music." I saw him breathe a little easier as I gave him that bit of info. And give a bit of a smile.
I leaned back against my chair as the flood of girls made their way into class. None of them made any attempt to hide their sudden attraction towards Gerard. "God he's cute." "Do you see his hair? It's so hot." "His clothing though." I chuckled at that comment. Vallory turned to look at me. "What are you laughing at freak?" "The cum stain on your shirt." I shot back. Her eyes widened looking frantically over her shirt as her friends stared at her with disgust. Realizing that I was lying, she gave me a murderous glare but said nothing.
Gerard called attendence. At every name he called he glanced at me before finding the girl writhing in her chair screaming "HERE" with her hand in the air waiting to be noticed. Finally he got to my name. "Katherine Walsh?" He looked at me and then glanced around seeing and hearing no one trying to get his attention so his eyes fell back on me. I sighed raising my hand the slightest bit. "Kat" I corrected. He nodded writing my one syllable name down on the attendence sheet. And knowing I was the last name, he sat down the paper. He sighed to himself, "Gerard Way - here."
