Just A Drag No One Wants To Inhale

The First Days Are The Worst Days

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You see, I found out 3 days before school even started that none of my friends from middle school would be going to the same high school as me. And we all came to an agreement that we'd try and make new  friends and try to stay in touch as much as possible. 

That was a complete lie on their part, but I was a naïve 14-year-old who was bad at striking up conversations with new people. It was scary trying to find new friends in a completely new environment. Terrifying, even.

And when the first day of school rolled around... Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. No kid asked me for directions, no one asked if I really did listen to the band that was printed on my shirt... Not like how it would usually go in the movies or high school romance novels.

I was... Invisible. All day long. I spoke 6 words that day, and it was all the same; I said 'here' whenever the teacher called out my name for roll-call.

When I came home and my mom and dad asked if I had a nice first day, of course I smiled wildly and nodded my head vigorously, saying, "Yeah, it was super good. I think I made a friend already! I already have an assignment for history, which kind of blows. But other than that, it was good. Real good."

I changed the subject right after though, asking what we'd have for dinner and then refusing to eat because I'd already eaten so much at school.

I went up to my room and closed the door quietly. My eyes felt hot and my fingers trembled as I went through my pitiful stack of CD's, nothing like I have now, and played the first one I touched in my stereo and blasted it as loud as I wanted. I slid down the wall and pulled my knees up to my chest, chin resting on my knees.

I cried. Hard.

And my parents didn't bang on my bedroom door, telling me to turn it the Hell down  because I've blasted my music so loudly and so frequently that I think I either made them deaf or made them unwilling to do anything about it.

There was someone tapping at my window, and if I wasn't looking up at the window anyway, I probably wouldn't have heard it.

I wiped my nose, eyes and face with the bottom part of my shirt as I stood up, turning down the music slightly so I could see better.

Whoever was tapping at my window didn't stop and it seemed urgent. So what did I do? I let them the Hell in, is what I did.

After I opened the window, he climbed right in, like he's done it a million times before. He looked around my room as he slipped his hands into his pockets. He stopped and stared at my stereo and the stack of CD's next to it. He sat down a little more to the left to where I was just sitting and he pat and the spot next to him. I reluctantly sat next to him; mostly because I was just weirded out at the fact that he looked a lot like me.

He looked like the me that I wanted to be if I was brave enough: piercings, dyed hair, weird haircut, cool clothes... The whole package.

I brought my knees back to my chest and turned the music back up. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He smiled. I could tell that he was really digging the music, and that made me feel... Something. Something that was definitely not loneliness.

He cracked one eye open and his smile grew wider when he saw me. That was when I realized that I had been staring. I felt my cheeks turn red and I looked away from him, he laughed softly at me.

"Why were you crying?" He asked all of a sudden.

I flinched and rubbed my eyes. "I wasn't crying..."

He pursed his lips, but I knew that he knew that I was lying. "Okay, then why are you upset?"

It was the same question, but he asked it in a way that made me comfortable. I sighed and looked down at the hard wood floor, drawing circles in the dust with my finger. "I dunno... I guess it's because I have no friends-"

"You've got me!"

I scoffed at him and bumped his shoulder with mine. "I don't even know your name. And you don't even know mine, how can we be friends?"

"Fine," he held his hand out to me and I shook it slowly. "My name's F. T. Willz, what's yours?"

"F. A. Iero Jr." I replied, not wanting to give him my real name if he wasn't going to offer it to me either.

"You've got the same name as your dad?" He teased.

"Hey, don't talk about my dad like that... And what about you? What does the F. T. Even stand for?"

"Well, my name is actually F. T. W. W. W." He counted the amount of 'w's' on his hand. "It stands for: Fuck The Whole Wide World."

This made me laugh. A lot. For a long time too. My stomach ached and my tears weren't the sad kind.

When I came down from my natural high, the CD had already stopped playing for a while. "What does the F. A. Stand for?" He asked me, taking a quick glance at the stack of CD's I owned.

"Frank Anthony," I answered back honestly. He nodded absent-mindedly.

We sat in silence only for a few seconds before I put in another Misfits CD. He smiled some more as soon as he heard the drums play.

"I think I'll just call you Willz," I told him, not wanting to just call him by his first name, which was apparently Fuck. "Is that alright?"

"It's alright... Can I call you Junior?"

"Nope. You can call me Frank, though."

"It was worth a shot."

"Yeah."

We bursted out laughing right after that, and Willz kind of just hung around in my room in the corner, listening to the music with me. Not many words were exchanged after that, but that was fine with the both of us, I think.

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