Chapter Text
Illi McMillin slammed her tray down at the cafeteria table like a warlord arriving on the battlefield where her lame group of friends is sitting.
"Hey guys!" she announced, stuffing two fries into her mouth at once. "Guess who just won a fist fight against a cheerleader?!"
That was how Illi started the conversation, very serious, hair a tangled mess, one sleeve of her blazer ripped, and a very nasty black eye.
Across from her, Mikey McMillin. Her lanky, asthmatic little brother with a deadpan expression, pushed his glasses up and muttered unimpressed, "You, right?"
"I did!" Illi announced proudly, stuffing fries into her mouth. "She called me gross, so I proved her right. She didn’t see the headbutt coming."
Mikey groaned, tugging his uniform jacket tighter. "You’re gonna get expelled. And I am not helping you ever again."
Beside him, Ray Toro nearly dropped the stack of textbooks he was carrying. He looked at her like how a mom would look at her daughter, worried, but still not surprised. "Illi, that’s… that’s not how you solve conflict. We talked about this, you’re supposed to de-escalate, not—"
"Well, I don't care, she escalated!" Illi cut in, mouth full. "If she wanted to insult me so bad, why not just accept the headbutt??"
Ray opened his mouth, then shut it again. He really didn’t want to end up fighting with her for something silly like that again.
On Illi’s other side, Frank Iero leaned back with his boots on the bench, smirking. He tugged his headphones down, Green Day still leaking from them, and flicked his lighter open and closed. Like a stereotypical punk in some bad 90s movie. "You’re my hero. Deadass. Kick another cheerleader tomorrow, I’ll buy you pizza."
"See? Frankie gets it." Illi smiled at him stupid, crumbs flying off her mouth as she chews with her mouth open, face leaning on her arm.
"I hate this school. You are all insane." Mikey mumbled, taking a sip of his chocolate milk.
Ray sighed. "No, Illi's insane. I just-" he frowned, distracted, then asked in complete seriousness: "Wait… do you think it’s safe to eat crayons? Hypothetically?"
Illi smirks, looking at her friends. "Well, this is your squad, Mikey. We DID place this brick to build it. You got your weird pethetic sister, John Travolta wannabe from Temu and a loser who thinks he will get bitches if he eats crayons."
The table falls quiet and they look slowly at each other. Frank snorts. "Yeah, as if I was trying to act like John Travolta on Grease or whatever. You lack movie culture, McMillin." He said while spraying hairspray at the back of his spiky, black hair. He smiles at her with his white teeth. "I could make you a list of movies to watch." He snorts. "Y'know, just so you make an idea where I get my vibes from."
Mikey grunts and rolls his eyes. "Dude, nobody cares you like Ryan Gosling or whatever. Leave my sister alone, you creep."
They keep taking about trivial things and pretending to mock each other. Illi is talking and laughing with that loud, high pitched voice, cramming fries into her mouth from time to time. She leans back, her uniform jacket stretched at the seams. All because she didn't want to acknowledge she uses the L size, so she ended up with a M. And that’s when a group of kids at the next table start giggling.
One jock calls out:
“Careful, McMillin, you’re gonna pop those buttons!”
Another adds,
“Yeah, maybe try salad for once, huh? You fat bitch.”
The whole table laughs.
Illi freezes mid-bite. Her grin wobbles, but she tries to bark out a laugh. "Ha! Yeah, you wish you had this dump truck." She shoves another fry in her mouth, chewing slowly, but her eyes are wet. She looks static, as if she was afraid to move after that.
Ray frowns, starting to open his mouth.
Frank beats him to it, slamming his soda can down with a long sigh and an annoyed voice. "Shut the fuck up. She’s hotter than any of you clowns."
Mikey mutters, voice sharp but quiet. As if he wanted to say something but not to be heard. "Yeah. And she’s my sister. You don’t get to talk about her like that... If you don't want a fight."
Illi tries to keep it cocky, but her hands are trembling on her tray. She wants to look unbothered. Inside she feels naked, every inch of her body under a microscope. She whispers, muttering to herself in anger. "Why can't the fat just end up in my fucking tits?? Or thighs?? Do I really have to look like someone's uncle with a beer belly?!"
All her friends turn to look at her in surprise. Mikey's face crumples inevitably as if he felt those words under his skin. He gets closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulders. He sucks at comforting people, let alone talk about feelings. But Illi is his sister. He can't hear her in such distress. "You are prettier that their girlfriends. Even with that black eye or that-" Illi cuts him off with a little gasp of air. She whispers: "Mikey... I-"
The bell rang loudly for about 4 whole seconds. Illi stands up and cleans her slightly stained with tears face. "Nevermind. Gotta go to class. Bye." She said quickly. She puts on her white cardigan and leaves with her bag full of trinkets and explicit badges of groups she likes. Frank follows her quickly while she leaves. He doesn't even talk to her, only walks beside her.