Frank lives 1.5 miles away from Saint Peter's High School for Catholic boys. He can walk that distance in just under twenty five minutes, and run it in just over fifteen - ten if he cuts through fields and gardens without stopping or getting caught. He's had a lot of practice at this and has cut his time down to what he believes is of Olympic standard over the years. It's toned his legs and chest, though there's still that childish pudge around his stomach that refuses to move, improved his stamina and halved the amount of times he gets ill per season. If anything he should be glad about this and want to do it more often, maybe take up track at school or something, but the truth is he despises it. Maybe this is due to the reason he runs home from school almost everyday.
For maybe a little under a year now, seventeen year old Frank Iero has been openly gay. For most teenagers this is a traumatising experience, to be hated for what you are, but for a Catholic boy Frank's sure it's even worse. With every bloody nose and black eye teachers and pupils alike turn their heads even further the other way. They don't care, Frank knows this, and nobody will ever be punished for pummelling him in to his locker. His mother's given up calling in, even though she refuses to send him to a none religious school - having this been her sadly passed mother's wish for all of her children and grandchildren. So Frank's been stuck there, no matter how many times they argue about it. "Nan wouldn't want me to be miserable," he persists, though his mother just rolls her eyes, sighs and begs Frank not to get in to this again. Not long left now, that's what she tells him, but to Frank graduation has never seemed so far away.
It's Friday today and as the end of the day bell rings a chorus of hallelujahs should be ringing out in Frank's mind, but as the captain of the track team grins and cracks his knuckles a wave of dread washes over him. He made sure to have everything he needs out of his locker at lunchtime, and his history classroom is just two rooms from the main entrance. Frank sits on the second row and The Hulk and his cronies sit at the very back, if the halls fill up quick he should get a decent head start. They get the nod from Mr. Needs-To-Get-Laid-ASAP and it's on. Slinging his backpack on to his shoulder Frank bolts from the room at lightening speed, knocking someone's notes from their desk in the process.
The halls fill up fast and as Frank gets to the main doors he can hear the irritated calls of pupils being pushed out of the way not too far behind him. Frank groans, they're in a chasing mood today. He heads for the field and backyards, hoping they'll get bored and pissed off jumping fences. He's small and fast and able to dart and hide behind every obstacle so he'll be hard to keep tabs on. They follow him quickly across the field and the first garden fence is not too far away. The adrenalin is already kicking in, dripping down Frank's legs and feet enabling him to jump the first fence with no problem. He lands effortlessly, mentally giving himself a perfect ten. He can hear the others running, their feet pounding harshly like an angry mob in to the wet grass. He eyes the next fence and carries on.
Two or three gardens later and they're catching up, just one fence behind now as he sees that mop of thick blond hair over the fence he's just jumped. He's going to have to get quicker or find a place to hide. Mikey's house is about four gardens away, but god damn it's Friday and he's got a bass lesson down town which he won't be home from for another hour. He doesn't think Mikey's mother would be overjoyed if he broke in to their house, maybe he can hide in the garage or something if Hulk and co gets too close. Two gardens down and he's feeling the pollen from what smells like a thousand flowers itch at his nose. Fuck his hay fever.
Finally he gets to Mikey's yard, landing on his mother's flower bed. Oops. He'll pay for that one, he's sure of it. The house looks dark and empty, even in the middle of the day. As he takes another step forward a painful twinge runs up his calf. He bites down hard on his bottom lip to conceal the cry of pain. They're catching up, he can hear them. His heart beats loudly in his ears as he looks for a place to hide. Luckily, the Way's garden slopes down and around the corner of the house towards a passage to the front. He's sure he can maybe hide behind a few trash cans until the others pass. He darts around the wall quickly, backing himself up against the orange brick. They land in the garden and Frank swears he feels the ground shake. He closes his eyes, mentally begging them to just keep running. "Hey, guys, I think he's still in here." Frank bangs his head back against the wall and mouths a few curses. "Wait, what's down there?"
