Chapter Text
Gerard stuffed the papers underneath his folder as Mrs. Ganna began walking up his row, watching the students circle answers on their multiple choice tests. Gerard tried to find the test paper, riffling through his yellow folders, the pages getting bent and folded over as he searched for his scribbled name at the top of the paper.
“Gerard, what are you doing?” she asked, looking down at his desk.
“Uh, taking the test,” Gerard pointed down, but it wasn’t the test that splayed across his desk. It was his drawing of the boy, hair red and slicked to the side, his yellow mask hiding the terror in his eyes.
“Drawing again? Gerard, you need to focus. I never had this issue with…”
“With Mikey? Are you really going to say with Mikey?” he bit the inside of his cheek, the words escaping without thought.
“I’m taking these,” Mrs. Ganna gathered up his folder with all the papers, riffled through them and found his test. She slapped it in front of him and motioned for him to pick up his pencil. “You only have twenty minutes left.”
Gerard looked down, the words bunching up in his mind. He remembered studying with Mikey last night, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember if he had actually answered a single question correctly. He twiddled the pencil in his fingers for the rest of class, circling a letter here and there, but there was no use. It was just going to be another failed test. He knew it. He looked up and saw Ray hand in his test, the first one to do so. He shouldered his backpack and gave Mrs. Ganna a wave. Slowly, but surely, the whole class got up to hand in their tests, the door opening and closing briefly after their papers hit Ganna’s desk. Soon enough he was the only one left, the clock ticking ominously on the wall in front of him. He looked down at the last question, squinted to read it carefully, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t care about Shakespeare, he just didn’t.
He circled a random letter and in a rush to escape Mrs. Ganna’s gaze he brought the paper up to her desk. She picked it up and looked at it. She hadn’t done that with anyone else’s.
“Gerard? Can you hold back a second?” He was halfway across the classroom, so close to freedom from the painfully blue walls. He pivoted back around, the walk of shame back to her desk.
“Yes?”
“Did you read the last question?”
“Yeah, I answered it.”
“But did you read it?”
“I forgot my glasses at home and my contacts were bothering me so…”
“Gerard, it’s one thing to struggle to see the question, but I don’t think that’s the case here.”
“No, I seriously forgot my glasses, so…”
“Gerard.” She sighed and leaned back in her leather spinny chair. “I know you know this one! Your powerpoint on Romeo and Juliet was incredibly well assembled, so why did you pick D? Huh?”
“Mrs. Ganna, you’re giving me too much credit. I watched the movie, I’m gonna be real with you. The one with DiCaprio? I cross referenced that with some play recordings I found on VCR at the library to make sure my information was as accurate as possible. I didn’t read the play. I just struggle with that stuff,” he was surprised at his honesty to her. I guess he didn’t really like or dislike Mrs. Ganna, but he didn’t appreciate her for giving him a hard time all the time. For God’s sake he was no Mikey Way.
“I see,” she nodded, her lips pursed. She was thinking. “How about you come in right after last period and you can retake it? Maybe Mikey can run home and grab your glasses for you? Or you can call your mom?”
I scowled. “She won’t answer. I’ll ask Mikey.”
“Okay, I will be in Room 201, you know where that is? That dead end hallway?”
“Yeah,” he nodded at her. She scribbled something on a sticky note and handed it to him, “So you’ll be excused for lateness for your next class. I’ll see you at 2:30?”
“If I do, will you give me my folder back?”
“Yes, of course, I will.”
“Okay, see you then.” He gave her a weak thumbs up and finally left the classroom, his throat clearing up the second he escaped from the chokehold of the ugly blue paint. He walked down the hall to 116, history. Mr. Brower had already started, frowning as Gerard rapped on the door.
“Mr. Way? Where were you?” his mustache twiddled beneath his nose as he talked.
Gerard didn’t say anything, simply handed him Mrs. Ganna’s pink sticky note. He slung his backpack beneath his desk, seated right behind Mikey who was hard at work typing on his laptop. Mr. Brower had given them a free period today to work on their World War II essays. It seemed Mikey was already well through his. As Gerard reached to pull out his own laptop, Mikey whispered to him sharply without taking his eyes off his screen, “Where were you?”
“Talking to Ganna.”
“Right, the test. How did it go?”
“Shitty, Mikey. Shitty.”
“But we studied…”
“But I can’t fucking read for shit! Mikey my eyes don’t fucking work, okay?”
“Are you wearing your contacts?”
“No, they’ve been hurting like hell.”
“It’s because you rub your eyes.”
“Mikey, I swear to God. Look, I forgot my glasses. Didn’t put my contacts in AND forgot my glasses. You don’t need to tell me I’m a fuckup. I already know that. It’s the one fucking thing I know,” He pulled up his essay, or the blank document titled, “World War II Essay.”
“I’ve been telling Mom to book you an appointment at the doctor’s. They can test for dyslexia.”
“Mom’s not gonna fucking do that, Mikey, and we both know it,” He clicked some keys, to make sure they were working. “You could drive home right after school and grab me my glasses though. Ganna’s giving me a retake.”
“Sure I can,” Mikey nodded once, raising his hand simultaneously.
“Yes Mr. Way?” Mr. Brower pointed at him.
“Is it okay if we go over the 1200 word limit?”
Gerard groaned and banged his head down on his keyboard.
***
As much as Mikey was a know-it-all, he did come through as he ran home and grabbed Gerard his glasses in a timely manner.
“Good luck on the test,” Mikey patted Gerard on the shoulder as he put his thick framed glasses on.
“Thanks Mike, I can walk home, you don’t need to swing back around.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I think Frank’s hanging around after school today. He has some club meeting, I guess.”
“See you at home,” Mikey walked back to his car, turned it on, and sped off. Gerard walked back inside of the school and up the stairs to 201. Mrs. Ganna was waiting outside the room and smiled when she saw him wearing his glasses.
“Glad Mikey came through.”
“He always does,” Gerard conceded, pulling a pencil out of his pocket. Gerard peaked behind her shoulder, noticing a small group of people all sitting at long gray tables. There were lumps of clay in front of each person and they were chatting and laughing as they moved them into strange shapes. “Isn’t this the art room?”
“Yeah, Miss Tilda usually runs Art Club, but she had to leave right after school today, so I agreed to cover for her. I hope that’s okay that we’re not in the normal room? Besides, Ray is conducting tutoring sign ups in my room, which I signed you up for,” she slid into the classroom.
He followed her, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “What? Why? I don’t have time…”
“Gerard, you need it. It will help you. Ray’s gonna tutor you, he’s a good kid, very smart. I think he might be able to explain the material to you in a more approachable way. Plus, I’m not taking no for an answer. If you don’t get tutored, you will fail my class. No graduation, Gerard. You get that?”
“Okay, okay, yes, fine,” He couldn’t stay another year in this godforsaken town. If that meant getting tutored, fine, he would do it. Anything to get out of here.
“Great! Let’s take this test, then,” she walked him over to Miss Tilda’s desk, as all of the tables were occupied. “It won’t be too loud for you?”
“Can I put my headphones on?” She looked at him skeptically. “I won’t put music on, just to keep things quiet.”
“Okay. Good luck,” she nodded at him and went to inspect the art kids and their clay projects.
He turned down to his test, the questions at least a little bit more legible. The first one was actually pretty simple. He tapped out iambic pentameter with his pencil and circled letter A that corresponded with his rhythm. After thirty minutes, Mrs. Ganna came to check on him. “Alright, Gerard?”
“Last one,” he said, twiddling his pencil between his fingers. “Definitely not D.” He circled C and handed her the test. “I feel okay about it.”
“I’m glad,” she gave him a soft smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He gave her a thumbs up again, this time a little stronger now.
“Oh! I almost forgot, here’s your folder,” she reached over to her big brown bag and pulled the flimsy yellow thing out of it. She offered it to him and he took it gratefully, peaking through it to make sure everything was there. “I really liked that one drawing.”
“You looked through it?” he asked, pulling the folder to his chest.
“Oh, sorry, was I not supposed to? The papers were flying out of it like crazy. I just put them in a little neatly and I saw that sketch of that guy with the mask? It was insanely good. Gerard, are you in any art classes here?”
“No, my mom said they were a waste of time,” he responded, his face turning red, whether from talking about his mom or the fact Mrs. Ganna had seen his drawing and liked it, he didn’t know.
“Well, I know it’s a little late, it being senior year and all, but maybe you could join Art Club or something? I just feel like you’ve really got something there, that’s all. You’re very creative.”
“Yeah he is,” Frank put his arm around Gerard, having snuck up on me from somewhere across the room. “Where’s Miss Tilda?”
“She had to run out quickly today, I’m covering for her!”
“Oh, I was just gonna tell her I was signing up for Ray’s tutoring thing, but he wouldn’t stop yapping,” Frank groaned. Gerard laughed. “So, uh, sorry I’m late!”
“Dude, since when are you in Art Club?” Gerard asked, as Frank took his arm off his shoulders.
“Since always? I told you I had a club meeting today,” Frank walked over to one of the gray tables. Gerard hadn’t noticed there had been a stool empty, reserved for his best friend it seemed.
“Yeah, I just didn’t know it was Art Club,” Gerard budged Frank over, both of their asses half hanging off the stool. Frank giggled and pushed Gerard gently off the stool. Gerard jumped up onto the long gray table.
“Hey!” A girl sitting on Frank’s left shouted, as Gerard rocked the table when he had jumped up.
“Sorry, Hayley!” Frank apologized on Gerard’s behalf. “Dude, careful. Pete! Did you save me some clay?”
Pete was on Frank’s right, but sitting at a different gray table. The tables had been moved into a square with an empty space in the middle. Gerard recognized it as a space for still lifes. Pete passed Frank some clay across the way.
“Thanks!” Frank stuck his fingers into the damp clay, rolling it over with his hands. He looked up at Gerard, a shiny smile forming on his face. “Do you want some clay?”
“Nah, I’m okay. I uh…” Gerard looked over at Mrs. Ganna who was sitting at Miss Tilda’s desk grading papers, his test. “Can I grab that stool over there so I can sit at the table?”
Gerard pointed at a stool in the corner. Its legs were wrapped in masking tape. Frank looked from the stool to Gerard, “Uhhhh I wouldn’t. Here, just take mine.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just use that one,” Gerard hopped down from the table, this time careful enough not to disturb Hayley’s expert clay making. It really was very good. She was modeling a small lifelike castle out of the lump she had been given. Gerard dragged the stool over and sat on it right next to Frank. It wobbled underneath him, but he steadied himself against the table with one hand, opening his folder with the other. The drawing of his character was at the front of the stack of papers inside. He pulled it out and flattened it out against the gray tabletop.
Frank peaked over. “Whoa, Gerard that is sick, who is that?”
“Uh, it’s me, or, it’s this character I was thinking up. I call him Party Poison. He’s like this dystopian vigilante cowboy guy, uh, I don’t know, I just thought he would look cool, so I drew him,” Gerard nudged the paper over so Frank could look at it more thoroughly. If this had been anybody else, maybe he wouldn’t have explained so much, but it was Frank.
“Dude, draw me next! I want to be a space cowboy!”
“Not a space cowboy necessarily, he uh, he’s roaming around California, or what California used to be, it’s all toxic waste because of this evil company. Or like, that’s what I was thinking. And he hates the evil company and…”
“Yeah, okay, space cowboy or not, he can’t just be wandering around California alone, right? That would be super dangerous,” Frank nodded to himself as if he were speaking about the most logical thing ever.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well what do you want your character to look like?” Gerard asked, looking down at his paper to carve out a little section of it for Frank.
“I don’t know! Just cool! You have the vision, my friend. I trust you completely. Is it gonna be like a novel? You have a pretty cool storyline,” Frank asked, his hands getting stuck in the lump of clay for a second.
“Not a novel, I can’t write for shit. Maybe a comic? Would that be cool?”
“Super cool,” Frank smiled at him again. Gerard felt a flash of red rise against his cheeks. He really did like Frank’s smile. “But it needs to have a good name. Nothing basic like all those Marvel comics.”
“Marvel comics are awesome, Frank,” Gerard snipped at him.
“DC is better. They have Batman,” Frank looked at Gerard like he had just won that argument. Gerard sighed and shook his head at him. Frank laughed. “You can’t rebuttal me. Looks like I win this one.”
“Yeah, okay,” Gerard chuckled. “Well you said it’s gonna be dangerous to be out there on his own, but to be honest, it seems more dangerous if he’s out there with friends. That means he’s got something to lose.”
“Okay, I see what you’re saying. So it’s dangerous anyway,” Frank took one finger out of the clay to stroke his chin in thought. “Hm, how about Danger Days? Because like they’re living out there and it's dangerous. I don’t know if that’s stupid.”
“No, I like it. I like the alliteration,” Gerard nodded. On the top of the page, Gerard scribbled the words in sharp letters. Danger Days.