Frankie and Joely Read online

  ‘I’m just going to get a drink. You want something?’ says Joely.

  ‘Yeah, a Coke.’

  She turns to head towards the supermarket and then stops. ‘You will wait, won’t you?’

  He nods. ‘I’ll be on the bench over there.’

  Joely skips away. Inside the cool of the supermarket, she looks out the window and sees Rory sitting on the bench, smoking a cigarette, watching her. She opens the fridge and takes out a can of Coke and a bottle of water. Then worries that maybe he wanted a bottle of Coke, not a can, so she grabs a bottle, too, and struggles to hold them all as she makes it to the counter.

  A girl about her age is working the register. Joely smiles at her, but the girl just scans the drinks.

  ‘Eight bucks, twenty,’ says the girl with her hand out. Then, ‘You’re Mack’s cousin, aren’t ya?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Joely, smiling more.

  ‘Thought so,’ says the girl.

  ‘Are you a friend of Mack’s?’

  ‘Friend? Nah. We used to go out. Before Anna.’

  ‘Oh,’ says Joely, wondering who Anna is, but wanting to get back to Rory more.

  ‘He dropped me.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

  ‘He does that. You want a bag?’

  Feeling torn about how matter-of-fact the girl is about everything and just wanting her to hurry up, Joely shakes her head, and then remembers her money is with the rest of her stuff at the pool.

  ‘Shit, I don’t have any money. It’s at the pool. I’ll bring some back.’

  ‘Nah,’ the girl says coldly, picking up the drinks and carrying them back to the fridge.

  ‘But—’ Joely knows there’s no point. How was she going to tell Rory she didn’t get his Coke?

  Outside, the light is so bright that Joely closes her eyes to refocus on the day. Blinking, she looks towards the bench. It’s now empty. She walks over, hoping Rory will be there by the time she is. But there’s only a smoking cigarette butt on the ground.

  Joely sits on the bench, curling her legs underneath. The wood is burning hot, but Joely sits anyway. She tells herself she isn’t really waiting for him to return, she’s just sitting here to rest. If only she wasn’t really thirsty. She could go and grab her purse and buy some water, but he might come back and, if he does, she wants to be here where he can find her. Looking at the cigarette butt smouldering, Joely flicks her foot out and splashes dirt over it, making sure it’s out. She’d hate a fire to start.

  Joely wonders if this is what it’s like to be in love. She never thought she’d sit on a park bench in forty-two degrees waiting for anyone. But she is. Somehow it makes her feel grown-up. Instead of filling her head with thoughts about Frankie, her head’s full of Rory and his kisses. She laughs. She flicks her hair, pleased she didn’t tie it back today. Except for the freckles, she thinks she looks nice. Pretty even. She hopes Rory’s watching her, captivated.

  ‘Hey love. Maybe you should be in the shade.’

  Joely looks up at a man standing in front of her. He’s wearing sunglasses so she can’t see his eyes. His skin is as brown as a nut. He’s wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and shorts. He looks like Ged when he’s in his good clothes.

  ‘Pretty hot to be sitting there,’ he says.

  Joely hates being told what to do by strangers. As if they knew what’s best. ‘I’m alright.’

  He shakes his head and she sees his greying hair. ‘You’re as red as a beetroot.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Joely stares at him, angry. ‘I’m fine,’ says Joely again.

  ‘If you say so.’

  Joely would never normally argue with a stranger. In the city she’d pretend to listen, politely nod or smile, then sneak away and laugh about it later with Frankie. But here, in the country, where she knows even her cousins are a little in awe of anyone from the city, she isn’t that way inclined.

  The man is still watching her. She fidgets on the seat, trying to cover herself. Even though he’s annoying, she knows he’s right. It’s beyond stupid to be sitting in the direct sun. She tugs her hat down, casting a larger circle of shadow around her. At least her face and neck are covered, and the tops of her shoulders if she sits really still. Plus she’s kneeling on her legs so they aren’t in the sun. So really, it’s only her arms.

  But now her waiting spot’s been ruined and she can’t relax. The sun feels hotter suddenly, like it’s burning through her skin and into her body. She looks up at the man from under her hat brim. He’s drinking a bottle of water. She can almost feel the cold running down her throat. He holds it out and Joely really wants to take it. But she won’t. She doesn’t shake her head, just looks down to the ground and wishes he’d leave so she could think about Rory again.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he says.

  Joely can’t help herself. She actually scrunches up her face at him. He probably doesn’t see it because her hat is covering so much of her face, but it makes her feel better, like one of the kids at school who tags angry words across the backs of classrooms.

  As he walks away, Joely notices he has a limp and she instantly feels like it’s her fault, like she’s responsible because she was mean to him. She should run after him and apologise, but she can’t. She closes her eyes, but even that doesn’t block out the sun. Even the dark is flaming red. She doesn’t want to leave. What if Rory comes looking for her? She has to stay, and wait, even if she melts.

  But then Joely thinks about her best friend. Frankie would never wait for a boy. So she decides on a compromise and looks around for some shade.

  She stands up. Her legs wobble, her head swims and she falls, banging her head on the bench on the way down.

  The man with the sunglasses is back. He seems to be picking her up, dragging her out of the sun. She tries to speak but no real words come out. Then he’s pushing the bottle of water into her hands, making her drink. As she swallows the water, her head starts pounding. She can feel the tightness of her skin.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ manages Joely.

  ‘You hit your head.’

  Joely rubs the back of her head. There’s a lump, tender to touch.

  ‘You’re Jill’s niece?’

  Joely nods. Is there anyone in this town who doesn’t know who she is?

  ‘I can drive you home.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Joely drains the bottle of water, shaking the last drop into her mouth. For a second she worries that because the man drank out of the bottle first she has his germs, but then she doesn’t care. She’s too hot to care about anything. She looks up at the man’s face, seeing herself reflected in his sunglasses. She can’t believe how crumpled she seems, even in the tiny images. The man smiles, the ends of his mouth disappearing under the large frames. Joely likes his smile. It reminds her of an old teacher who used to read romance novels aloud during maths class.

  ‘You got someone who can get you home?’

  ‘Yes, Frankie,’ says Joely, pleased she’s had a chance to be nice, and hoping that it smooths over how rude she was the first time round.

  ‘Give me your phone and I’ll call her,’ he says.

  Joely digs in her pocket, pulls out her phone, but doesn’t give it to him. ‘It’s okay. I’ll call her,’ she says, noticing the nine missed calls from her mum.

  ‘I’ll wait. Just in case. I don’t want to leave Jill’s niece,’ he says kindly.

  For a second Joely can’t remember her PIN. But then the number comes crashing back to her: the last four digits of Frankie’s mobile number. She keys it in and rings Frankie. She gets her message bank.

  ‘Frank. It’s Joel. Call me back,’ she speaks quietly into the phone and then looks up at the man. ‘It’s okay now.’

  ‘Want me to wait?’r />
  She shakes her head, embarrassed. ‘No. It’s fine. She’ll call back.’

  The man holds his hand out to help up Joely. ‘You should sit out of the sun, over there, where it’s cooler,’ he says softly.

  She struggles to her feet, head whooshing, and wants to crinkle back down onto the ground and stay where she was.

  ‘Take care, love,’ the man says as he salutes. On a normal day Joely would think he was a bit odd, but somehow today, in this heat, it makes complete sense.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispers after him.

  ‘Pleasure,’ he calls back.

  Chapter 22

  Frankie’s given up waiting for Rory. His text messages were so eager, and now she can’t find him anywhere, so she’s trying to make her own fun by kneeling in the shallow end of the pool.

  There are two boys scooping up water and flinging it at each other in front of her. The younger boy yells something, his arm poised to throw a pair of goggles like a grenade. The older boy lurches forward trying to rip the goggles out of his hand. It must hurt because the younger boy bursts into tears, and moves away towards the steps, like he’s trying to decide if he should get out or not.

  But seconds later, the two boys are huddled together again, their skinny frames blocking Frankie’s view.

  She stands up, aware of the glances from the teenage boys around her. ‘What are you doing?’ says Frankie to the boys.

  ‘I found a ladybug,’ says the younger boy, walking towards the stairs at the edge of the pool, his hand held high.

  ‘I found it,’ argues the older one.

  ‘We both found it,’ says the younger one.

  ‘No, I found it.’

  Frankie looks at the older boy, wondering if he’s always so competitive. Is that what it’s like to have a sibling, having someone skipping along at your heels, waiting to overtake you? Is that how Mack feels with Thommo? She decides she doesn’t like the older boy and sides silently with the younger one.

  ‘Can I’ve a look?’ says Frankie to the younger boy. He peeps up at her from under his long fringe. She smiles and he holds out his hands, one closed over the other. Frankie’s impressed that even at seven or eight, he understands the importance of mystery. He slowly peels away a thumb, a finger, another finger, and another, until Frankie is looking at a tiny black and red shape in the palm of his hand. She reaches out to touch it, but the boy quickly snaps his hand closed. Both boys laugh and Frankie joins in, amused by their confidence, and surprised by how wrong she was about the dynamic between them.

  ‘Are you two friends?’

  ‘Nah. He’s my little brother,’ says the older one. He stares at his brother, flicking water again. ‘It’s dead,’ he says.

  ‘No it’s not,’ says the younger one, sounding surer than his brother.

  ‘Yeah it is.’

  ‘Is not.’

  They start to argue again. Frankie watches them, knowing she’s their only audience as each boy jostles, wanting to win, wanting to be noticed. Frankie doesn’t care who’s right, but she’d rather the ladybug was alive. She doesn’t like the word dead, or the finality of it. ‘How can you tell?’ asks Frankie.

  The boys stop. Like much older men, commanded by the force of beauty, they turn their attention to her and see they have to convince her and not each other. They start talking in a race.

  ‘They’re always flying into the water and drowning. We find them all the time. If they aren’t moving then they’re dead,’ says the big brother.

  ‘Yeah and if they are moving—’

  The big brother splashes the younger one, cutting him off. ‘It’s just cos they’re floating.’

  ‘Or cos they’re alive,’ adds the younger brother with a smile.

  ‘Dead, stupid.’

  ‘Alive.’

  ‘Dead.’

  Frankie laughs, wishing she could resolve fights with Joely by yelling and calling her stupid.

  Suddenly, the younger boy screams, ‘IT’S A-LIVE!’

  The big brother smiles a-not-very-nice smile, leans in and says, ‘If it’s alive, it’ll sting you. Remember they hate water.’

  Frankie sees the panic erupt on the younger boy’s face and he hurls the tiny ladybug into the middle of the pool.

  ‘Idiot, what’d you do that for?’ yells the older brother.

  The younger boy shrugs and doesn’t look at Frankie. Instead, he bends down, gathers as much water as he can and throws it in his brother’s face. The ladybug is instantly forgotten as the younger boy escapes into the pool, away from the body missile that is about to be launched in his direction.

  Frankie’s disappointed. She was enjoying the company of the boys and wanted the ladybug to be alive. Now, unless she could find it, she would never know. She walks towards the deep end, scanning the surface and sees the ladybug almost immediately. She reaches into the water to pick it up, but then notices it’s not alone. Dozens of them bob and drift, riding the rhythm of the small waves. She watches them, still not knowing if they are alive, or merely trapped in a current of chlorine, waiting for a child to throw them ashore for a final burial.

  Frankie wishes Rory wasn’t playing games. She’d like to stand alongside him and feel his shoulder bump hers. She’d like to kiss him again and feel his hands tighten around her waist. She wonders where he is, if he’s in town. She looks up, but the sun is so strong, her eyes burn and she has to look away. When she looks back into the water the ladybugs have all floated off and out of reach.

  She dives under the water, surfaces and dodges swimmers coming the other way. Her feet skim along the bobbly concrete, wary of being skinned. She passes young children with floaty rings around their stomachs, laughing, splashing and racing each other to the edge. She passes two grey-haired men with barrel chests and leathery bodies. She passes a group of mothers, dipping their squealing babies into the cold water. She walks as far as she can go. Then, kicking her feet behind her, she swims into the deep. Chlorinated water burns her nostrils, making her cough. Her eyes sting, but she swims further, searching for a cold patch. Searching, too, for the boy she hopes she’ll find.

  A group of kids are dive-bombing into the water and the force of their splash sends her under. She tries to surface but a rubber tyre has floated over her head and she can’t push it off. Under water, she jabs at it furiously, but she can’t get past. It takes seconds before she realises she can swim around it, and she comes up gasping, drinking the pool. She’s more frightened than she should be, but there’s something about being under there, trapped.

  He’s laughing when she turns. She wipes hair from her face and is pleased to feel the concrete under her toes. Standing again, she snots out water, not caring that he sees her, just wanting her head to be clear of all the chlorine.

  ‘You got stuck,’ says Rory.

  Frankie smiles and shrugs.

  ‘What were you doing down the deep end? Don’t you know that’s where they dive-bomb?’ He reaches out for her, but she’s too far away.

  ‘Looking for ladybugs.’

  ‘There’s no ladybugs here. Just boys and rubber tubes.’

  ‘I thought we were meeting earlier,’ says Frankie, hating the way it makes her sound.

  Rory shrugs and she looks into the pool, cross but refusing to show it.

  ‘I had to wait ’til you were on your own,’ he says, making Frankie wonder where Joely is and if he was watching them.

  She leans out and touches the surface of the water. His hand is so close, that if she were to reach out her little finger, she could stroke his skin.

  ‘Saw your friend before.’

  ‘Joely?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Oh. How’d you know who she was?’ says Frankie, surprised that Rory would recognise her.

  ‘It’s not like there’s many chicks around here that I don’t know. Fi
gured it had to be her,’ he says.

  Chicks. Frankie wants to push him under. ‘Did you talk to her?’

  ‘Nah,’ says Rory, swimming out a bit.

  Hearing Joely’s name, Frankie remembers that she should be with her, not out here with a boy who calls girls chicks. But then Rory bobs around again, as if sensing she’s about to swim away, and his hand reaches for hers.

  ‘She was just getting a drink,’ he says.

  He pulls Frankie close and kisses her. His lips taste like chlorine. A swimmer forces them apart and he’s gone. She waits. He drifts back, smiling.

  ‘Want to go hang out?’ Rory says lazily. Frankie flicks water at him. He’s floating away, almost out of reach, and she doesn’t want him to go. Stop, she thinks. He must feel it because he swims back, head out of the water, eyes on her.

  ‘You’ve been in for ages.’

  ‘How do you know? Were you watching me?’ Frankie sounds crosser than she means to.

  ‘No. Your skin is all wrinkly.’

  Now she feels silly, like she’s caught in a wave that keeps dropping her and she doesn’t know her up from her down. She starts walking back to the stairs.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Frankie keeps walking, wondering if he’ll follow.

  ‘Hey Frankie,’ he calls.

  She turns back, ready to return to the deep, but he’s gone. Then she sees him swimming madly through the pool, head out of the water like a paddling dog. She watches until he dives under and disappears.

  *

  Expecting Joely to be huddled up under a towel, Frankie’s surprised to find their stuff, but no Joely. It’s probably for the best because Frankie’s not sure how Joely would feel about Frankie kissing Rory in the pool. She rummages in her bag for her sunglasses, hoping Joely’s gone to buy her a drink or maybe even some lunch. Then her phone starts ringing, and she grabs at it quickly, wanting it to be her mum.