October 25th, 2001.

The dull hum of the car engine filled Frank’s ears, seeping past his headphones which sat loosely atop his head. They were wired, connected to his borderline ancient Sony Walkman that he got from his cousin practically as soon as he was old enough to hold the thing. Only the radio worked, which sucked, but some music was better than none (And, for the record, Frank wasn’t the type of guy to pretend like Christina Aguilera didn’t hit on occasion).

Frank Iero. Everyone in the small town of Belleville knew that name. He was labeled mostly by his peers as “outspoken,” “rash,” and a “no good punk who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.”

Okay. So, yeah. He wasn’t the most liked person in town. That much was obvious. It only made sense, he assumes, to his parents, for him to be shipped off to a Catholic boarding school. Despite being raised heavily catholic, Frank never had any interest in the religion itself. He thought religions in general were cool as a concept, but most are truly just rebranded cults that aren’t as extreme as the ones you imagine when you hear the word “cult.” No animal sacrifices around a fire, or blood rituals, that type of shit. More synchronized singing and rewriting of texts that date back to when the Romans were the superpower of the world (Allegedly).

This wasn’t the most drastic measure his parents had ever tried to implement onto him to correct his behaviors, though. In fact, he much prefers this over the Marine boot camp he had been sent to the summer prior. He could take a few cultists, not so much a drill sergeant, however. And, yes, he did try that once or twice, and got his ass handed to him. Not his proudest moments, or something he’d like to talk about more than once.

It was a two and a half hour drive, traffic permitting, to the school, which was a bit inhumane in Frank’s opinion—since New Jersey is not a big state—but he’d count his blessings, since at least it wasn’t like those wilderness camps where they kidnap you in your sleep…

Frank was abruptly dragged out of his thoughts when the car came to a stop, and his mother looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes, which once held so much adoration and love for her boy, were cold now.

“Go,” His father spoke, not bothering to look up from the newspaper he was reading. “And come back different, yeah? Less damn gay, if you can help it, too.”

Frank couldn’t help a smirk to himself, before grabbing his black duffel bag off the floor of the car and hopping out of his mother’s gray PT Cruiser, the door slamming shut behind him as if it disapproved his presence as well.

Less gay? Was his father genuinely serious? Frank Iero, being less gay? Impossible. Ever since he was thirteen, he’s been bringing guys around their house (And, admittedly, not being very quiet about it and getting himself caught on numerous occasions). Most of which he introduced as “friends” up until he came out when he was fifteen. Now, being seventeen and a half, his parents were thoroughly sick of it.

Walking in, Frank was greeted by a girl who seemed to be around his age, who introduced herself as Hayley. She had spunky hair, which Frank dug. It was bright orange and shaggy. Very signature, if you wanted a look to be assigned to you. She gave him a brief tour, explaining that the headmaster had told her to do this for extra credit, and so on… Frank tuned her out halfway through, which he only felt a little bad about, up until he got to his dorm and she finally left.

Well, this was going to be boring. If he could give the boot camp anything, at least there was stuff to do. Here, he’d just have a bunch of prudes with crosses shoved up their ass, telling him he’ll burn in hell if he doesn’t clean up his act. For that matter, he’ll probably get followed around, considering his track record before he arrived at this hellhole disguised as a Catholic school. The Academy of Saint Mary. Sounds thrilling.