Headfirst for You

Ch 1 Moving On

Gerard heard his mom call from downstairs telling him it was time to leave.

"Okay." The teen grabbed the canvas and positioned the painting he finished in the nick of time and tacked it on the wall. He snatched his jacket off of the floor and slung it on, walking down the carpeted stairs one last time.

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing." Gerard shook his head and followed his family out the door.

*

A picture hung in a bedroom of a house that resided on Pivot Street. It wasn't an extravagant house, merely what any family would settle in.

And as the pale oil painted girl waited for it's new owner and said goodbye to it's creator, a silence fell over the house. But the sound of an old record player echoed through the halls like a ghost whispering nostalgic imagination. Telecasters and jazz basses light-heartedly danced around in the fading ambiance like the particles of dust one would notice after laying in the sun for too long.

*

Gerard looked up at his new house with nothing but plain teenage boredom. He knew he couldn't speak his opinion because he had never established himself in the new nest. It was bigger than the last one and darker.

"Gerard, your room is the last one down on the right hall upstairs." His mom announced and opened the door.

"Mkay." Gerard traveled up the carpeted stairs carrying a big cardboard box filled with posters and clothes. He opened the door and gazed into the vast space of carpet and walls with a door in the corner leading to a supposed bathroom. A small walk in closet was nearby and a large window streamed in the light out onto the floor, much like the one in his old room. Dust danced and skipped in the section that was like a window itself into another universe.

Gerard set his box down and fished through it to grab a poster of Smashing Pumpkins and a small wad of tack. With a push of a thumb in several places, Gerard stood back and wiped his hands on his pants, almost feeling satisfied but definitely challenged.

"Okay." He breathed and sighed out.

"Son, don't bring the boxes in yet. We've got to get the furniture in first."

Gerard turned around and saw his dad pushing in pieces of the wooden bed frame and a delivery guy waiting to bring the mattress.

"Sorry. I'll go get my bookshelf pieces."

*

"Quiet kid ya got there." Said the delivery man, helping Gerard's dad, Donald, place a box down.

"Yeah." Donald shrugged.

"Is that why you moved? Bullying and stuff-if you don't mind me asking... That happened to a friend of mine."

"Nah. My job and Donna's job made us move. Besides, Gerard's too quiet to start up fights or get involved. He's pretty much a high-class introvert."

*

"How do you two boys like your rooms?" Gerard's mom asked while standing on one side of the kitchen counter.

"It's big! It's neat to have a room all to myself!" Mikey smiled wide.

"Yeah, the light's nice." Gerard smiled.

"Hey mom? Can I paint my walls?" Mikey looked up with pleading eyes.

"I think that'll be okay. Gerard, want to paint yours?"

"Yeah, but I think I'll do a Goya."

"A what?" His brother twisted his face.

"Romanticism artist that painted on the walls of his house to deal with his PTSD and the loss of his sons during the war. Pretty dark stuff. I liked the idea of painting on the walls, I just don't think I'll go so dark." Gerard smiled at his knowledge and felt proud that he remembered that from the books he read in the library when he wanted to escape.

His mom rolled her eyes, much like all the other times Gerard would splurt out art snit-bits. "Whatever makes you happy I guess."

Gerard smiled with success and continued eating his cereal.