The New Kids (Frerard/Rikey)

Chapter 1 - A Fresh New Face

"Have you seen the new kid?" I hear around me, making me interested. I strain my ears to listen to the hushed talking coming from beside me. A new kid? I hope he wasn't another asshole. We already were overstocked on those.

"Yeah, he looks terrifying. Hes like, six foot something and he always looks angry." Oh goody.

"I haven't seen him yet. Is he really that scary?" I hear another voice, but I stopped listening when an unfamiliar face walks into the room and sits. At the desk next to mine.

"Shit. That's him." The first voice says, and then it is silent from them.

He was about six foot, maybe a little less. He looked huge. But then again, compared to me almost anything but a toddler is huge. I'm just five foot four and less than one-hundred-twenty pounds.

But back to this stranger. He had light, strawberry blond hair, long in the front but short in the back, it was actually pretty nice hair. It went nice with his slight beard. But he did look angry and mildly terrifying. He had his eyebrows knitted and a piercing in his lip, a black leather jacket, black pants, and black sneakers. He seemed to have some big muscles under those clothes too.

"The fuck are you staring at?" I hear a voice ask, interrupting my thoughts. It was then that I realized that I was staring.

"Oh-shi-s-sorry." I stutter out, turning my attention to my lap.

"No, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just getting fucking tired of people watching me. It's like they've never seen a new kid before." he mutters. I keep looking at my lap, stupid social anxiety.

"Belleville is a sh-shit town. N-Nobody wants to come here." I mumble quietly, picking at my fingers. I had to answer somehow, but my mouth and brain didn't seem to think so.

I look up slightly to see him tilting his head and looking at my chest or stomach. "Is your shirt Misfits?" He asks, recognising the logo. I nod and look down at my t-shirt underneath my black, worn out sweatshirt. I pull it out so its straighter, admiring the logo.

"Misfits are p-possibly my favorite band." I say with a smile.

The conversation, if it could be considered that, was cut off by the teacher walking to the front of the room. "Alright, Anderson?" He calls out, holding the clipboard with the attendance sheet on it. A kid from the back raises his hand. "Bryar?" The stranger raises his hand, "Robert Bryar, nice of you to join us. Welcome to Belleville High. Where did you move from?"

He sighs, "Bob, please. I moved from Chicago. My uh-my mom wanted a change, so we left as soon as possible." He looks down again and the teacher moves on. I swear, Bob looked sad now. What was wrong?

"Hey, ar-are you okay? I ask when the teacher leaves the front of the room.

I lightly poke him and he looks up at me and shrugs. "I wish we didn't have to leave. I hated that school and all, but I wish the reason we left didn't happen." He whispers. He sighs and looks back down, clearing his throat. "I can explain it better, just not now." He gives me a glance. "I still don't know your name."

I jump back a little in surprise. "Oh. I'm F-Frank. Frank Iero." I can't believe I didn't tell him my name. I can be so stupid sometimes.

"Nice to meet you Frank. Hey, uh... Are you busy tonight?" He asks.

Yeah, busy trying to stay away from my dad. "No. Why?"

"Well, maybe you could come over? I don't know, I'd like to show my mom that I made friends."

"S-Sure! If its no trouble." Did somebody just ask me to hang out with them? That hasn't happened since fourth grade. I'm a junior now.

"Of course not. My moms pretty cool about that. She wants her kids to be happy whenever they can just in case... I'll tell you later. You seem like someone who would understand."