Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
FRANKIE
If I’d been hoping the universe would give me a breather after the whole “surprise, here’s a father you don’t want” bomb… yeah. No. Apparently, the universe had a sick sense of humor.
Because the next two days of school decided to gang-up and body-slam me emotionally. It started small—barely noticeable, like a weird hum in the background. But then it grew into a thing. The guys seemed to be competing.
Not loud, not obvious, not in a way anyone else would care about. I couldn’t miss it if I tried. I just—I just didn’t get why they were doing it.
Jake offered to carry my backpack to my first period class.
Archie intercepted and snared my bag before Jake could.
They glared at each other. If that wasn’t weird enough, Archie shadowed me to my math class with Bubba.
After math, Bubba walked me to my French class where Rachel waited right outside the door.
The look they shared puzzled me, but then Mathieu was there.
His unreadable expression made my stomach sink. He cut a look from me to Bubba then to Rachel before he settled his gaze back on me. “Do you have a moment?”
“No,” Bubba answered before I could. “She doesn’t. Bell rings in a minute. Save it for after school.”
I stared at Bubba for a beat before he gave me a gentle nudge in the door. “What are—”
“I’ll talk to you at lunch,” he promised, but his gaze wasn’t on me at all. Instead, he focused on Mathieu.
“Frankie—” But that was all Mathieu got out before Rachel hooked her arm through mine.
“The testosterone is a little thick out here, see you boys.” She drew me into the classroom even as frustration scraped through me.
The rest of the day went much the same. Coop appeared outside of French class like his third period wasn’t on the far side of the building. Rachel cut off Mathieu before he got anywhere near me. I kind of hated that I was grateful for that.
Was I ghosting Mathieu? Were we broken up? Did I want to talk to him? Everything about him seemed so important—before. Was it not important now? Was he not important?
I didn’t have any answers. When Mom texted me over lunch, I just left it on read. I really didn’t have it in me to deal with her right now. Lunch itself was oddly muted. The guys were all in their own heads. Bubba slid me a note just as lunch ended and I stared at it a beat then looked at him.
He winked once before striding away to his next class. Bubba wrote me a note? That was… different. I was turning it over in my hand on my way to the library. Jake caught up to me before I got to the door. When he pulled it open, I met his questioning gaze.
“Study buddy?” His eyebrows lifted, hopeful—and just a little teasing. Another peace offering. His gaze dipped to the folded note in my hand, lingered there, then slid back to my face, like he was choosing not to ask.
“I’d like that.” I really would. I had a lot to do. “You can keep me honest.”
He snorted softly, that crooked, self-deprecating smile flashing like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Careful,” he said. “I was kind of hoping you’d do that for me.”
I hesitated, then grinned, an unwelcome—but familiar—thrill slipping through me. This Jake. I knew this Jake. For the first time in weeks, it was like my friend was back. “Sounds like a plan.”
The next hour passed swiftly, but comfortably despite the hum of everything we weren’t saying underscoring the moment. I even survived seventh period with Mr. G and he took me aside to chat.
Embarrassed as hell about my reaction, I would have preferred to have just tucked my head down and forgotten it.
Mr. G, however, assured me that his suggestion wasn’t anything to do with my ability or intelligence, but his worry that I was overwhelmed.
If I wanted to buckle down and soldier on, he was there to support me.
It was… a lot.
I had no idea how much I needed to hear that. Through it all, I avoided any deeper talks with the guys. Weirdly, I also felt closer to them and I had no idea how to deal with that. So—I didn’t.
At least not then.
I saved Bubba’s note until I got home and found Mom absent—thankfully—I was still avoiding her, but it was easier when she made herself scarce.
As long as I didn’t think about where she was or what she was doing, I could stomach it better.
Yes, I read her text but I just tabbed it open so the notification would go away.
I didn’t actually read it. I was firmly in stick my head in the sand mode.
Settled in my room, I unfolded the paper and smoothed out the blue-lined sheet. The sharp letters with their hard angles and neat slashes filled the page.
Hey,
I’m not great at knowing how to say things out loud, so this felt safer. Maybe that’s a cop-out. If it is, I’m sorry. Tell me and I’ll work on that.
I know I’ve got a lot of ground to make up with you. I also know I might not be able to fix everything, or even most things. I’m not pretending otherwise. I just… miss us. Or maybe who we used to be, before things got complicated and I got in my own way.
I don’t expect anything from you. I just want to be honest about where I am. I want to earn back your trust, even if all that means is being someone you can laugh with again. Someone you don’t have to guard yourself around.
I’ve been working on a song. It’s rough. I’m still practicing it, still figuring it out, which probably tells you everything you need to know about me right now. I wrote these lyrics thinking about you, and about us, and about all the things I wish I’d said sooner.
Anyway… I wanted to share them with you. No pressure. Just tell me what you think — or don’t. I’ll understand either way.
Here are the lyrics, don’t have a title yet.
I don’t need a clean slate
I don’t need to be right
Just let me stand in the quiet
And try
I know I missed the moment
I know I crossed the line
But if there’s still a doorway open
I’ll take my time
We were easy once
We were honest then
I never thought about forever
Now I just want us back to then
The note’s content stuck in my head most of the night, but I couldn’t quite decide what I wanted to say.
Not yet. The next day seemed to pass like the one before, except darker and a little more twisted, as well as a hell of a lot more uncomfortable.
So maybe not the same at all, no matter how I tried to frame it.
It dawned with new pictures being posted online—while the faces were blurred to protect the not so innocent—everyone knew who they were.
Rumors peppered with more gag-worthy and titillating stories raced around the school like they were fueled by nos.
Information on their sexual preferences, including swapping girlfriends to rate them. That part kind of made me ill. When that little nugget dropped, we were at lunch and phones buzzed and trilled across the lunch room. It was a rare rainy day, but the rain kept us indoors.
Jake’s expression was my first warning. Real anger flashed across his face.
Then Rachel made a beeline straight for me.
I pulled my phone out and watched the carousel of photos detailing what the guys liked to do with the girls and horrifically—a rating system for the boys to mirror the one they’d apparently used for their girls.
I snapped it shut on the conversation about their tongue skills.
I really did not want to know. Archie went almost ice-cold as he saved every detail before he left the table to call his attorney.
Coop put his head down, lightly thumping it against the table.
Jake launched himself and stormed out after Archie.
Bubba, though, sat there like stone—staring. When I followed his gaze, I found Sharon sitting at a table with Patty, Maria, Brit, Cheryl, Tonya…
Holy shit.
It was like a gathering of all their exes in one place. My stomach bottomed out. When Sharon noticed me looking, she smirked. Rachel cut off my view while also flipping them off.
“Stop responding,” she said in a hissed breath. Bubba jerked his gaze to her just as she flicked Coop in the top of the head. “Stop reacting like a little bitch.”
Coop glared as he raised his head. “Excuse me?” Frost licked those two words.
“I won’t excuse any of you. This is your mess, you started it. Doesn’t make what she or any of them are doing any better. But the more you react, the more she’s going to feed off of it. So fucking grow a pair and knock it off.”
It was my turn to gape at Rachel. When she caught me looking, she just shrugged.
“Bullies feed on misery. She wants to punish you. They all do. You were a bunch of petty little dicks with your stupid games—” She raised a hand to forestall Bubba saying anything as he opened his mouth.
“But they aren’t innocent fucking little flowers.
They damn well knew what was going on and they still played the game with you. ”
That sent another shock rippling through me.
Coop opened his mouth, then snapped it closed again. Bubba’s frown tightened and he leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It’s not that simple.”
“No shit,” Rachel said with a shrug. “But it’s also not that complicated.” After stealing a soggy fry off my plate, she transferred her attention to me. “We need to get you a dress for Homecoming.”
“What?” It was like we jumped tracks. “Dress?”
“Yep, dress. We need to look hot and you need to flaunt that violet hair you’ve been hiding.
” She stroked a hand—not the one she stole fries with—through my hair and curled some of the violet ends around a finger.
“Do you want to retouch this beforehand? We could get some color conditioner to darken this section for the night. It would wash out and lighten back up after a couple of washes.”
A half-dozen responses presented themselves in all their single syllable glory, but I couldn’t quite formulate one.
With a slow smile, Rachel winked at me. “Right, you work tomorrow and Thursday. We have another week, so let’s go on Friday?”
“Sure?” Was I asking her or telling her?
Stealing another fry, Rachel waved it at me. “Good deal. It’s a date. I’ll pick you up at your apartment, and drive. I know quite a few excellent shops we can hit.”
With that, she bounced up and left the table.
I blinked after her, tracking her path across the room.
She paused just after passing Sharon’s table then backed up and leaned down to say something.
The words didn’t carry, but Sharon’s shocked face went beet red.
After Rachel left them with a careless wave, Sharon stormed out of the lunchroom.
I twisted to look at Bubba and Coop who stared at me with the same stuped look I was almost certain I was wearing. “What just happened?”
“I have no idea,” Bubba said slowly and Coop lifted his shoulders.
“Me either, except…” Coop cut his gaze back to the other table and I couldn’t help but steal a glance. Not a single one of them was looking at us. “I am going to make a policy of never pissing Manning off.”
“Ever.” Bubba sounded off.
I studied both of them, then picked up the least soggy fries from my plate and offered one to each of them. At their surprised looks, I managed a smile.
“Distracted you,” was my only explanation and that earned me actual smiles from both. I had no idea what I was radiating right now, but a part of me wished I could shut it all off.
It was all so damn confusing and I wasn’t even functioning at full battery. I was maybe at 17% and blinking red.
As weird as the day had been, it took a turn at the end when I swung by my locker to swap out books and leave the crap I didn’t need for homework there. Yes, that was an excuse—I usually took everything home—but I used it to see if I had another letter or rose.
I hadn’t heard from my secret friend in a while. I was still wrestling with the disappointment when Archie appeared beside me.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned a shoulder against the next locker, all cool detachment on the outside even though his eyes were taking in everything. He always did that—catalogued me. Like I was a problem to solve.
“You’re not okay,” he said finally, gently but without hesitation. Like he wasn’t dropping a grenade directly into my chest cavity.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
Archie’s mouth did a tiny twitch that wasn’t quite a smile.
Somehow, he always knew when I wasn’t telling him the truth. It was like he had the secret decoder to my moods.
He reached up, slowly, as if giving me space to step back if I wanted. When I didn’t, he tucked a strand of my violet hair behind my ear.
Everything in me went neon alert.
“You’re always doing that,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Trying to look put together while you’re breaking internally. And I always…” His jaw tightened. He looked away, then back. “I always want to fix it.”
Fix me.
Fix us.
Fix what he wasn’t saying.
My heart punched the inside of my ribs.
“Archie—” I started.
But then he stepped back, like he’d caught himself slipping. “Sorry. That came out weird.”
It hadn’t. Not at all. What it had done was come out real.
Right now, I didn’t know what to do with real.
“I’m here, babe,” he said finally, his dark eyes fixed on mine. “For anything. Tell me you know that.”
My mouth opened, then closed once. I dipped my gaze to his lips once before snapping them back up to his eyes. “I know, Archie.” The words came out husky. “I do know.”
“Good,” he murmured, then walked away before I could say anything else.
The ground seemed to constantly shift and shake before threatening to fall away from beneath me. Coop texted to say he was grabbing a ride with Jake, so I didn’t have to wait for him. The drive was almost peaceful.
Maybe that should have been a warning sign. The quiet before the storm.
When I got home, I didn’t even register that something was wrong at first. Except, the apartment door was unlocked.
Voices echoed inside—men’s voices, unfamiliar and loud—and the scrape of something heavy being dragged across the floor set my nerves on edge. I stepped in and froze.
Cardboard boxes. Tape guns. My dresser half-emptied. My clothes folded with clinical indifference and stacked like I was already gone.
A man glanced up from my room, clipboard tucked under his arm. “You Frankie?” he asked.
My mouth opened. Nothing came out.
“We’re almost done,” he said, like that was supposed to mean something. “Just packing your stuff.”
My stuff.
“They already picked up the cats, and their stuff,” the man continued. The words landed wrong—sharp and personal and final. Like ownership had already changed hands and no one had bothered to tell me.
I stood there, backpack still on my shoulder, heart pounding, watching strangers dismantle my life one box at a time.
Whatever fragile sense of control I’d been clinging to snapped. The universe hadn’t just body-slammed me. Nope, it took a few steps further by deciding to pack me up and ship me out.