Chapter Two

Bob ended up feeling relieved that he had stayed late. Sometime between Creative Writing and heading over to the band room, it had started snowing pretty heavily. By the time they got outside the ground was already covered in a thin layer of slush. He also learned that the three o’clock bus was condensed, making it so he rode home on a virtually empty bus with Ray and Mikey.

Even though they were a part of a group of friends, Bob could tell that Ray and Mikey were best friends. The way Mikey talked to Ray was different than the way he talked to the rest. He was more at ease and less harsh with Ray’s good nature to balance him out. He could forgive the way Mikey had been acting toward him when he thought about it that way. He probably just thought he was trying to steal his best friend. Bob wasn’t a thief.

He had been worried when Frank proclaimed he walked home, eyeing the light jacket that was his only barrier against the cold.

"Aren’t you gonna freeze?"

With a nonchalant shrug, Frank deemed it nothing. "It’s no big deal. I do this everyday," Frank started as the engines of the buses turned on. "It’s just some stupid rule the school has. If you live within a mile of this hell hole, then that means you are required to freeze your nuts off every winter."

"That’s just plain stupid," Bob decided.

Ray was rolling his eyes at Bob’s side. "Come on, Bob. Let’s get on our nice warm bus."

"I’ll see you tomorrow. If I don’t turn into a popsicle on the way home," Frank laughed, all but pushing Bob onto the bus.

He watched Frank from the window until he could no longer see him.

His house was dark and empty when he came home; something he had to get used to. In Chicago, his dad had worked night shift, allowing one of his parents to almost always be home. Now his mom didn’t return until five and his dad until after nine. He felt like he should do something with his newly found freedom, but instead he went to his room, sprawled out on his bed and considered the fact that he was actually excited about going to school the next day. It had all come down to the try out.

Bob had been so nervous when he and Frank made their way to the band room. Frank talked the entire way there. He had tried to listen because he wanted to be a good listener, but his insides were squirming. He had to keep an eye out for any bathrooms in case he had to throw up.

It got worse when they arrived and saw Ray and Mikey conversing casually with Mr. Lucas. It had felt like he wasn’t just trying out for his placement in band, but for a seat at their lunch table as well.

Bob didn’t waste anytime. He made his way behind the kit, his nerves cooling slightly once the sticks were in his hands. He took a few deep breaths and started playing.

He picked a Pantera song seeing as Ray liked them and he always had fun with music like that. It didn't take long before reality slipped away and the music consumed him fully. It was always that way for Bob. He would forget about everything going on around him, caught up in the way his body parts worked seamlessly together to create something.

When he stopped, the room was silent. Mikey’s mouth was hanging open. Ray looked like someone had found his lost puppy. He couldn’t discern what Frank surveying him calmly could mean. It was only the slight upturn in the corners of his mouth that gave away that he had any opinion at all.

Once the proclamations of his talent started from everybody else, he couldn’t ignore how quiet Frank was compared to the rest. He had grown used to his incessant babbling and opinions on everything from writing to the colors of the school walls. Mikey was talking more than him.

He didn’t even know why it mattered so much that this kid approve of him, but it did. He didn’t speak until Bob came out from behind the drum set and walked over to them.

He let out a breathy "Dude," before hugging Bob. No boy had ever hugged Bob. His hands stayed rigidly at his sides, his nails digging into his sweaty palms. He was relieved when Frank finally pulled back, looking at him in amazement. "If you were anyone else, I would think you were an arrogant fuck for saying you were only okay at playing but...just don’t doubt yourself so much, okay?"

Bob was at a loss for words, so he merely nodded before letting Mr. Lucas’ excitement and plans distract him from Frank’s steady gaze. He was given the privledge of playing the set in band and the teacher had told him he could come by and practice anytime.

As they walked to their bus, Ray spoke seriously about leaving his band if they could get Patrick or someone else to sing and Frank dropped the sarcasm in favor of blatant honesty. For the first time ever, Bob felt like people understood him.

He must have been lying on his bed for a long time because he heard the sounds of his mother’s car pulling into the driveway and his stomach was growling menacingly at him. He pulled himself out of the sleepy haze he had been caught in, rubbing his eyes and heading downstairs to tell his mother about his day.

While she was making dinner he listened to her talk all about her job, the people there, and how much everyone had liked her. When she asked Bob how his day was, he could only get out a feeble ‘good’ before she handed him his dinner and went to call a friend back home.

He ate while watching TV, wishing he could instead be playing the drums. He did the little homework he had without complaint and went to sleep early because the sooner he slept, the sooner it would be Wednesday.

He didn’t see any of them until fourth period band. Ray demanded rather loudly that he play, which embarrassed Bob, but he complied when Mr. Lucas requested he do the same. He wanted him to get a feel for some of the songs they were working on for their school concert which was only two and a half months away.

Bob wasn’t as good as he could be at reading sheet music, so he watched Mr. Lucas play it, going through it step by step before he went up himself. He looked over the music, before he started, his palms sweating so bad he was afraid he would lose his grip on the sticks. He played the piece slower than he was supposed to, not to mention messing up in the middle part, but there was still scattered applause in the room when he finished. The other two drummers were looking at him with complete and utter loathing.

The first half of lunch was dedicated to trying to convince Patrick to start a band with them. No one had actually bothered asking Bob whether he wanted to be in a band, nor did they talk about the fact that Bob didn’t even have his own set. It didn’t matter because Patrick continued to refuse saying something about needing a full scholarship if he wanted to go to college. The conversation then turned back to how good he was and how much better they would sound at the concert with Bob instead of Jessie providing the rhythm.

He was sick of hearing about himself, telling them with a rather juvenile set of words.

"Aww, a talented drummer and he’s modest," Frank smiled throwing his arm over Bob’s shoulder’s which was somewhat awkward because of how much smaller and shorter Frank was than him.

Even though he had a clear idea of where he was going, Mikey still walked from lunch with him. Bob couldn’t believe how much he already felt like a part of their group, like he belonged. He didn’t even feel like he had to pretend with them.

This time in Technology there was a different substitute who actually bothered taking attendance. Bob sat alone once again, but he didn’t feel as bad about it that day.

"You’re in my History class."

Bob, who had been concentrating on a particularly gruesome set of math problems they had never covered in his school was startled to see someone sitting across from him. It was the plain-looking boy who had tried to talk to him in the middle of a lesson on World War II the day before. There was another boy with him, standing to his left. Bob guessed that he was waiting for a reply when he didn’t continue, so he said the only thing that came to mind.

"Yeah..."

"I’m Joe, and this is Jon," he said nodding to the other boy who kept having to push his brown hair away from his face. He looked much older than sixteen, making Bob think he had to be a senior. "And you’re Bob."

"So, what did you do wrong to get put in this class?" Jon asked sitting on the table rather than on a stool. Bob caught him frowning at the homework he had out. He tucked it back into his bag, redirecting his attention on them. He didn’t fail to notice that Jon was wearing flip flops. In the middle of winter, no less.

"Nothing. Just...most of the electives were taken."

"That blows. I got caught smoking in the bathroom twice, and Jon beat the shit out of some Junior at the beginning of the year."

Bob didn’t bother telling either of them that he was a Junior. "So, this class is, like, a punishment?"

"Well, no, not actually," Jon laughed. "More like Joe used to have a free period which he would use to toke up, and I got kicked out of Mythology. It was a stupid class, anyway. I had to take Law last semester."

"I’m sorry," Bob told him seriously thinking about how awful that class would be for someone who disliked school as much as he guessed they did. They both laughed, telling Bob they knew he was one of them before they even came over.

For the rest of the period, they explained everything they knew about the other kids in the class. There was Scary Mike who they all thought was going to bomb the school, and Jorge the foreign exchange student who could roll the best blunt out of everyone Joe knew. There was Mindy who was in this class to be with her jealous boyfriend, Eric, who had no idea she was the blowjob queen for the rest of the football team. And Spencer, the prissy fag, who always got shoved into lockers when his drama friends weren’t around to protect him. Everyone in the class could be summed up in a few words.

Bob began to think about what phrase they would use to sum him up or if they would get to know him well enough to even try. He tried not to think about all the things they could say about him, things he didn’t like to think about ever because Bob was pretty down on himself most of the time.

That day, Frank was in gym, just like Patrick said he would be. Bob had forgotten to bring in his change of clothes, so he would just be watching. It was the first time he had seen Patrick without a hat on and from the way he was hanging his head, he didn’t think Patrick was very comfortable without it.

Frank talked to the girls more than the boys, he noticed. He watched the way they smiled at him while the other boys glared daggers. It didn’t shock Bob that Frank was good at flirting; Frank seemed to be good at everything when it came to people. Patrick stuck by his side the entire time looking pained when the gym teacher announced that for the next three weeks they would be doing a volleyball unit. Bob understood why when one of the preppy kids spiked a ball at Patrick’s head. Frank had called him a dick and put him in his place when their team won.

"So, what song did you pick?" Frank asked Bob on the way to Writing. It was just the two of them now, Patrick having to go in the other direction to get to AV.

"The Sound of Silence."

"No shit!" Frank said. "I almost picked that too, but I went with the other Simon and Garfunkel on there, A Poem on the Underground Wall. It’s not as well known, so I thought it would be cool to do. And it inspired me."

Bob hadn’t heard that track. His song was the second on the list and he had listened to it three times before deciding to not even bother with the rest.

"Most everyone else is doing The Beatles. Do you have any ideas yet?"

"Not really. I just liked the lyrics," Bob admitted with a shrug. He didn’t know how he could take someone else’s words and turn it into his own idea.

"Well, if you want, we can talk about the lyrics. Maybe it will help you get some ideas," Frank offered, excitement in his voice. Bob could tell Frank lived for stuff like this.

Unfortunately, they had to set their exhilaration aside. Miss Opes was actually teaching a lesson, talking about the importance of distinguishing voices in your writing. She was citing examples from literature as well as students writing in the class; both negative and positive. Bob didn’t like the idea of other people getting to hear his work, especially when he couldn’t write to begin with. He figured he would always end up in the negative category.

When she got to an excerpt from a piece by Frank that was written as a free writing assignment, Frank’s attention waned. It made Bob feel even less confident. If Frank was this uncomfortable hearing his own work and he was actually good, how would it be for Bob? He didn’t think Frank had a right to be self-conscious because, in his opinion, his story was the best out of them all.

***

For the rest of the week, Bob only talked to the guys he sat with at lunch, and Jon and Joe in Technology. He could kind of get why Ray and all them talked to him because they all liked music, but he still didn’t understand what Jon and Joe saw in him. They had said he was one of them, but what exactly did that mean? All he could really tell about them was they hated school and liked to talk about other people, but it wasn’t in the way Frank did it. When Frank put someone down, he sounded smart, like he knew what he was talking about it. They did it in petty ways going straight for the gut. Still, Joe and Jon were willing to talk to him and he had to admit they were funny and easy to be around. He always felt nervous at lunch when he was with the Frank and the guys, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For one of them to say they had all taken a vote and decided he didn’t belong.

His lunch friends couldn’t be any more different from Jon and Joe. They all stayed after every single day, while most kids went home, though they didn’t necessarily spend that time together. They would either be in the band room or the library, or in the case of Ray, Mikey, and Patrick, in the AV room. It seemed that none of them hated school the way other kids did. They complained about the bad parts; the tests, the asshole teachers, Phys. Ed., and the kids who made them feel like outsiders. But they also found joy in a lot of other things. They didn’t let the negative consume them and concentrated on what they did like instead.

He wanted to know why. The only kids who did that at his school were the geeks obsessed with their grades. He didn’t think it was in avoidance of their home lives. They all hung out at Mikey’s and Ray had never said a single bad thing about his parents.

Bob hoped he could learn to be like them because right then another year and a half of school felt like an eternity to him.

***

After his last class before the weekend, he left Frank, who wanted to talk to Miss Opes about his writing, heading to the band room with the intent to practice. In some weird irony, not having a set available at home seemed to renew his love for the instrument.

Just outside the door he heard the slightly raised voices of Mikey and Ray arguing about something. Bob always hated to hear people fight. He didn’t exactly know where it came from. His parents never fought. He just couldn’t stand the sound of angry voices. He was going to walk away, maybe go to the bathroom or to the library. That was, until he heard his name.

"Come on, can’t we invite Bob tonight?"

"No, Ray! What if he comes, finds out, and freaks? I don’t want that shit in my house, and you know how Gerard will act if that happens and he’s there."

"But he won’t be there. He’s always gone by the time I get there anyway and I can bring him with me, and Bob so won’t freak out. I don’t know what your problem is."

"My problem is we hardly know the guy and you want to induct him into the Friday Night Crew. Frank didn’t invite Adam for ages and he hardly ever comes now, anyway."

"Well, it’s your house so I’m not going to push anymore, but just so you know, everyone else is okay with it."

"You asked everyone else if Bob could come to my house?"

"No. I asked everyone else if they would be okay with Bob hanging out."

"But we hang out at my house."

Bob couldn’t hear what Ray said next; his voice lowered, but he heard Mikey sigh and drop his frantic tone. "Fine, he can come but he’s not staying over. He has to earn at least that much."

Bob walked away quickly, afraid they might see him. He went to his locker to kill some time before he trekked back, trying to act as normal as possible when he walked in. Ray smiled at him while Mikey eyed him apprehensively.

"Hey, Bob, here to practice?" Ray asked, showing no signs that only minutes before he was lobbying on Bob’s behalf.

"Yeah"

"We’ll leave you alone then, but I just wanna ask if you’d like to come hang out with us tonight? We go over Mikey’s every Friday to watch movies and whatnot."

"I don’t know if I can," Bob grimaced. If Mikey didn’t want him there then he didn’t want to intrude. He thought Ray was being unfair pushing so hard seeing as it wasn’t even his house.

"Please? We all want you to come. We can try and get Patrick to start a band with us by stealing his books," Ray grinned.

Bob’s heart sank. He wanted to say yes so badly.

"Yeah, come on Bob. It’ll be fun," Mikey chimed in.

Bob couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Mikey to say that. He looked at him closely, seeing that he wasn't angry like he had sounded earlier. He wanted to know what he missed to make him change his mind so easily. There was no way he could ever ask. Mikey wasn’t the type of person to give up information freely.

"If you’re sure..." he said while still looking at Mikey.

"Of course I am."

Bob had no choice but to agree.

***

Bob waited for what felt like an eternity for his mother to come through the front door. He had spent most of that time wondering what Mikey and Ray had been talking about after school. What was it that he didn’t know that would cause him to freak out? He supposed he didn’t have much of an imagination because he couldn’t think of anything, though he was curious to find out.

He gave his mom enough time to put her stuff down and use the bathroom before he cornered her in the kitchen.

"Hey, mom, can I go over my friend Mikey’s house tonight?"

"What kind of a name is Mikey for a teenaged boy?" She questioned, looking up from the stack of mail she was holding.

"I don’t know. It’s what everyone calls him, even the teachers," Bob shrugged. He could tell his mom was being difficult on purpose. He had barely ever been able to convince her of anything when she was acting this way.

"Where does this Mikey live?"

"Uh, I’m not exactly sure. Ray’s mom is picking me up."

Ray hadn’t actually told him it was his mom doing the driving, but he knew none of them knew how. The school didn’t provide free Drivers Ed so it was up to the parents to decide when their kids were allowed to drive. Only Patrick had a permit, but no car. Mikey’s brother had tried to teach him how, but he crashed into the garage door before he even got out onto the streets, and Gerard didn’t want to risk his precious car.

"And what will you boys be doing?"

"Watching horror movies."

His mom searched for hidden meanings or lies in what he was telling her but she had obviously found none, finally conceding.

"What time do you want me home?" he asked casually, hoping it wasn’t too early. He didn’t want the guys to think he was a loser who had to be home by nine.

"It’s a Friday? No later than midnight."

Bob made a move to leave, believing her to be finished. She stopped her son with a hand to his arm, her frown deepening. "This is your only chance, Bob. If you come home drunk or on drugs or even a second late, all privileges are cut off. Understand?"

Bob nodded his head enthusiastically, bounding up the stairs to get ready. He thought about changing his clothes, but eventually decided against it. They weren’t going anywhere and it seemed like too much effort for just sitting in someone’s house. He was uncharacteristically excited. When he moved, he had pictured himself moping around his house with no friends for at least a few weeks. It was as much a surprise to him as his mom that he had plans. Even his friends back home never bothered with him much outside of school.

After dinner, he killed the rest of the time by doing homework, knowing it was the only thing that took all of his concentration to do. He needed something to distract him from his nerves. It was one thing hanging out with people in school. It was entirely different seeing them in their environment; their comfort zone. What if he didn’t fit?

He was downstairs and waiting for Ray fifteen minutes before he was scheduled to arrive.

His mom didn’t come to the door to meet Ray. The thing about his mom was that she only went so far with things. He often thought she only made the rules she did because she was supposed to, not because she actually cared whether he was going out to steal cars or shoot up heroin.

Ray’s mom hadn’t driven him. It turned out Mikey only lived three blocks from Bob’s house. They walked briskly, both dying to get out of the cold. He didn’t fail to notice the overnight bag Ray had with him.

He explained to Bob that Mikey’s mom worked overnights on the weekends, yet still allowed him to have friends over on Fridays. It had become somewhat of a tradition for them and she didn’t have the heart to break it just because she needed to work. She now counted on his brother, Gerard, to make sure they didn’t do anything too stupid.

Ray spent the entire three blocks talking about the band practice he had just come from. Apparently the singer and the drummer spent the whole time fighting about a song lyric that, for some reason, didn’t sit well with the drummer. He had said it wasn’t metal enough, whatever that meant.

Bob had been nervous entering Mikey’s house. Somehow on the walk there, his imagination had shifted into gear. Images of drug dens and sacrificial ceremonies had flashed before his eyes. Ray asked him if he was okay before they went in, but Bob just blamed his skiddish behavior on the cold.

Bob’s heart raced as the sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the entrance way. His gaze followed Ray’s movements into the adjoining room, but he couldn’t bring himself to follow. He was struck by how normal Mikey’s house was. He had expected there to be something strange about it, but it was actually very similar to his own; box-shaped and small. All the houses in the area were compacted leaving little room for a front or back yard. The only real difference was what was inside. All the furniture was mismatched, clearly bought in pieces rather than in a set. All the surfaces were covered with family photos, knick knacks, or anything else the Way family could find to lighten up the naturally dark surroundings. In Bob’s opinion it worked. It looked like what he always thought a home should be.

They weren’t sacrificing babies, either. Once he got up the nerve to move he saw that Patrick and Mikey were sitting in front of the TV; Mikey in a worn recliner and Patrick lying down on the floor, both laughing at whatever was on while Patrick snuck glances at the book he was reading. He didn’t see Mikey’s brother anywhere.

Bob hadn’t seen the movie, but after they told him it was called Mansquito; he didn’t think anyone needed to catch him up on the plot. He held his tongue for an entire ten minutes before asking the question that had been eating away at him since he arrived.

"Where’s Andy and Frank?"

Mikey flinched at the question, while Patrick looked away from the TV and back again at his book.

"Andy’s at work. He gets off at nine on Friday’s. Comes straight here." Ray stated, going back to making comments on the movie’s horrible acting as if Bob would forget there was a second part to his question.

"Does Frank work, too?"

"Well, he had a job for like, a month last year and then he got fired," Ray explained.

Bob was starting to lose his patience at the lack of direct answers. What could be so bad that they couldn’t tell him?

"So, where is he? Is he on a date or something?"

"Er, no, not really. He’s at a club, actually," Ray said, itching a spot behind his ear, while trying not to notice that Mikey was giving him the dirtiest look ever.

"A club? What kind of club? Like with dancing?"

"I think there might be dancing," Ray answered nervously. "Is there dancing, Patrick?"

Patrick made several incoherent noises that could easily be mistaken for whimpering while turning funny colors from behind his book. Ray wouldn’t look at him and Mikey was still glaring at Ray like it was all his fault.

"If it’s something you don’t want to tell me, all you had to do was say so," Bob declared with a shrug. He didn’t want to be kicked out of Mikey’s house for asking too many questions or because Mikey had gouged Ray’s eyes out with a spoon.

Ray apologized to Bob before everyone went back to the movie, though the laughter felt forced, the tension still in the air. He could see Ray mouthing "I’m sorry" to Mikey several times before Mikey slapped him upside the head and made a joke about the way the girls head exploded seconds before the Mansquito had bitten her. Somehow that made everything okay again.

Bob couldn’t concentrate on the movie, his mind wandering. Were they so nervous because Frank was underage and going to a bar? He considered that maybe Frank went out and picked up girls, bringing them back to seedy motels before retiring to the Way household for Chinese and bad sci-fi. But that couldn’t be right because Ray had asked Patrick, and Bob couldn’t imagine Patrick doing anything like that.

When Andy came, they ordered pizza and put in the first Star Wars, before George Lucas had decided Jar Jar Binks was a clever idea to attract the kids.

"How do they explain why all the technology is so much better in the new one?" Patrick asked. Apparently he refused to see it, even though it was still in their local theater after being out for over two months. He had seen a clip of it on some late night show and proclaimed he didn’t want anything to tarnish his childhood.

"Well, that was before the Empire took over all the governments. You really think the Emperor and Vader would leave them anything they could fight back with? Think of Alderan," Andy replied, opening a bag of chips and passing it around.

"Alderan was a planet full of pussies."

None of them had heard Frank come in over all the blasters and things exploding. Behind him, someone ran by hurriedly saying they had to pee over and over again until they disappeared down the hall. Bob looked at Frank then, his jaw unhinging as he took him in. Frank was wearing eyeliner - and lots of it. It wasn’t just the eyeliner either. He also had on red eye makeup, smudged from sweating despite the cold weather. His shirt was ridiculously tight and he had replaced his converses for boots. He was also still wearing that damned pink belt.

"Ohh, pizza, I’m starving." Frank sat next to Bob on the couch, picking up a piece and taking a large bite.

"What are you guys doing back so early?" Mikey asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice, but failing.

"Your brother decided he wanted to go to a real club for once and Melinda’s car was packed." Frank rolled his eyes.

Gerard had entered the room again, smiling widely at them all. Bob didn’t think he had been noticed yet because Gerard didn’t say anything to him. He wasn’t wearing as much eye make up as Frank, only a thin line of black on his top and bottom lids.

"Hey, guys, Star Wars, excellent choice," he said breathlessly, plopping down on the floor next to Patrick who finally put down his book.

"I thought you were going to a real club," Frank said mockingly.

Gerard stuck his tongue out at him before replying, "I am. It’s only like eleven. Anyway, I gotta wait for Pete to call." He turned his attention to Patrick, his voice softening. "You shoulda came tonight Pat. Scott was asking about you."

Bob noticed the way Patrick didn’t get mad at the nickname like he had when anybody else said it. He stayed quiet, thinking he might get the answers he had been looking for if he listened closely enough.

"I don’t like Scott," Patrick mumbled.

"Sure you do," Gerard insisted, nudging him. "Let him take you out to get something to eat or to see Star Wars. I can’t believe you still haven’t seen it. Ewan Mcgregor as Obi-Wan makes up for everything," he finished rather dreamily.

Frank nodded in agreement which is around the time it all sunk in for Bob.

"Wait, you guys are gay?" He didn’t like the way his voice broke at the end, like he was thirteen and going through puberty all over again.

Everyone was quiet for a minute, only the sounds of Luke complaining about being stuck in the garbage shoot filling the air.

"You didn’t know?" Frank questioned heavily, the tension that had long since dissipated coming back full force.

They were all startled by the sound of the phone ringing.

"I better get that," Gerard grimaced, watching Bob all the way to the phone in the kitchen.

Bob’s heart was beating fast. He didn’t know what to do with what he had figured out. Every time he tried to make sense of it, he was just bombarded with more questions. Were they all gay? Were they some kind of gay tribe that hung out together doing obscene things while Mrs. Way worked her ass off to get food on the table? Did everyone in school think he was gay now, too?

Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing up, his fists clenched at his sides. Everyone was watching him closely, not saying anything.

"Hey, Bob, I’m gonna go out for a smoke, why don’t you come with?" Bob wasn’t sure what kind of a look he gave Frank, but it had to be a bad one because Frank quickly added on, "just to talk" with his hands held up in defense.

He nodded his head mutely, shoving his hands into his pockets, not even bothering to grab a jacket like Frank did. He felt numb anyway. He didn’t think he would be able to feel the cold.

Mikey made a move to follow, but Ray held him back. He could hear them arguing until Frank closed the front door. They sat on the front steps, the cold seeping out of the concrete and into their clothes. Frank didn’t speak until after his cigarette was lit and he had taken a drag.

"We probably should have told you at the beginning of the week. I should have told you."

"So, you’re all gay?"

Frank laughed which only succeeded in further confusing Bob. "No, no, it’s not like that. Patrick and I are. And Gerard, too."

"I don’t understand," Bob pronounced slowly after a lengthy pause. He didn’t know what exactly he was referring to, but he couldn’t think of what to say and felt like he had to supply some kind of answer.

"We were afraid of telling you because, well, a lot of people have problems with the gay and you’re a big guy. We didn’t want you squashing Patrick’s head like a watermelon."

Bob thought that was a weird analogy because he didn’t think he was strong enough to actually squash a watermelon with his hands.

"I wouldn’t do that."

Frank breathed a sigh of relief, his jittering leg slowing down noticeably. "Good, ‘cause we like you Bob. We want you to be comfortable around us." They were silent for what felt like a really long time, until Frank saw fit to continue. "And I really am sorry I didn’t tell you. I honestly figured Ray would say something, but I shouldn’t have left my dirty work to him."

Bob nodded, his heart rate slowing down enough that he wasn’t as hard asking the difficult questions. "Do kids at school know?"

"Rumors, and a lot of them. Especially about me. I’ve never denied it, but no ones ever straight out asked so I haven’t confirmed it either. They all certainly know about Gerard, though, and Mikey gets a lot of shit because of it."

"Why do they know about him?"

"That’s Gerard’s story to tell," Frank said snubbing out his second cigarette. "And once he gets to know you, I’m sure he will. Gerard’s a self-proclaimed savior of all disaffected youth; gay or straight."

"So...where do you guys go? A club?"

"Mm hm. It’s at the Pride Center in Newark every Friday night. A safe haven for all GLBT youth."

"GLBT?" Bob questioned. He was starting to feel exceptionally uninformed and stupid, but Frank wasn’t laughing at him or moving to the sarcasm that was like a second skin to him. He just surveyed Bob calmly before continuing.

"Gay, Lesbian, Bi-sexual, and Transgender. I thought it would be lame when I heard about it since what the hell could be fun that’s for kids under twenty and is adult supervised? But it’s actually really cool. No one has to hide who they are there and you can hit on whomever you like without worrying that they might bash you."

"How did you hear about it?"

Frank smiled at him, liking the fact that Bob was comfortable enough to ask so many questions. "Gerard. He had been court ordered to volunteer there and after his sentence ended, he never stopped. He loves it. I think it makes him feel needed and important."

"Oh."

Bob was on information overload. He hadn’t expected anything like this. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel or act or what the correct things to say were. He figured Frank must have noticed this, when his expression turned worried and he asked Bob if he was okay.

"Yeah, I just. I don’t know what to say," Bob confessed looking down at his feet.

"Be honest. If it’s a problem then-"

"It’s not," Bob said hurriedly. "It doesn’t bother me that you’re, uh, you know...gay. It’s just I’ve never...I don’t know anything about that."

"You’ve never met a gay person before." Frank wasn’t asking, but stating a fact he knew to be true. Surprise still etched its way onto his features. "You lived in Chicago though. Big city."

"I know, I mean, I heard about them." Bob squeezed his eyes shut at his rather impolite choice of words. "But I never talked to anyone like that." He didn’t tell Frank how his friends had beat up anyone they thought was a fag.

"Well, hey, that’s okay. There’s a first time for everything, right?"

The door behind them opened just as a car pulled into the driveway. It was Gerard who didn’t leave the doorway looking worried and unsure until Frank gave him the okay with a half-hearted smile.

"Everything okay out here?"

"Yeah Gee, all’s well. Hey, no one actually introduced you guys. Gerard, this is Bob; brand new member of the Friday Night Crew," he said with something akin to pride in his voice.

Gerard smiled then, pushing his black hair out of his face. "Nice to meet you, Bob."

Bob couldn’t meet his eyes, but mumbled a hello he hoped he could hear.

"I told Mikey and the guys I’d be back no later than three. I don’t want any shit broken or any big messes. Mom ripped me a new one last week when you guys tried cooking that lasagna."

"Sorry," Frank replied, giving Gerard his best serious face. He grinned in amusement at Bob when Gerard looked at the car waiting for him.

"It’s fine...just next time, I’ll wake all your asses up and make you clean it."

"What the fuck, Gerard, let’s go!" A voice shouted from the car.

Gerard said good bye, looking at Bob extra long before leaving the porch. After they pulled out and disappeared down the street, Frank turned his attention to Bob once again.

"You know. We still haven’t talked about The Sound of Silence."

"I know," Bob said softly, the change of subject making him feel strange.

"Have you started writing yet?"

"No."

Frank made a disapproving noise at this.

"She’s going to expect to see something soon. Do you want to work on it Monday after school?" Bob guessed he had given Frank another one of those looks when he added, "Just as friends," with a sigh.

Bob thought about it for a minute, trying to decide whether there was anything bad about saying yes. He thought about how nice they had all been this week, everything they had trusted him with that night, and came to the conclusion that that was answer enough. "Yeah, okay."

Frank gave him the biggest grin Bob had ever seen and really, he couldn’t help but smile too. "Great. Let’s get back inside. I’m fucking freezing and I want another slice before Ray eats it all."

Frank didn’t complain or say anything when it took Bob a minute to stand up, his mind trying to play catch up with everything he had been told. Everyone stopped talking when they walked into the living room, but then Frank had started wailing on Ray for eating all the pizza and it began to feel normal again. Twenty minutes later Bob told them he had to get home and all five of them walked with him.

When Bob was younger, he thought he had grasped the concept of strength in numbers. He hadn’t; none of that before had ever been real. This is what it really meant to have friends.