Born for This
Chapter Four: Ordinary Day
Chapter Four: Ordinary Day
xXFrankie’s POVXx
I pulled Shayne along quickly through the woods. As we both weaved in and out of the foliage surrounding us, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. I was so happy that Shayne had come out to me. It would have been too awkward for the both of us if she hadn’t told me.
But why wouldn’t she have told me? I mean, even when we were little, we shared everything. From cookies to secrets. From juice to information. Like I said, everything. My feet beat against the ground so irregularly, I was practically flying now. But I didn’t seem to notice that quickly. My mind was wandering elsewhere. A place in the past.
+++++++++++++++++
Shayne and I didn’t know each other until school had begun for both of us, way back when Playdo was the shit. Our preschool classes were conjoined, and we usually did activities together, but never once did we run into each other, until that fateful day almost twelve years ago.
I remember the October air was crisp with the smell of leaves and freshly cut grass, and I remember my mother had packed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a Capri Sun for lunch that day. And of course, what child wouldn’t remember the fateful bus ride to their first field trip? Two classmates of mine got in a heated verbal argument, and three children had cried when they realized their parents weren’t chaperones for the trip.
But the clearest thing I remembered was drifting off to the paintings gallery in the museum. I had toddled over to a Van Goe painting and stared at it for a while, wondering if the man was really crazy at all. Then I had heard it. The soft laughter of children dying away, and the soft sob from behind a large white pillar.
I turned to the pillar, searching for the noise. “Hello?” I asked the voice, “Is anyone else in here?”
And there she was. Back then, her hair was the whitish blonde it still was today, with noting else in it other than a light blue headband that showed off her twinkling eyes. I remember looking into them, thinking if the sky was jealous of their beauty. She wiped away her tears as I slowly approached her.
Although I wasn’t a very sociable child, I still managed the guts to say, “Hello.”
“Hi,” she replied back. She sniffled a little and looked at me. She then proceeded to flash me her crooked smile, making me smile back.
“Are you okay?” I had asked her, still wondering why she was crying. She nodded her head softly.
“I’m okay,” she alerted me, “I just can’t find my group and I got a little frustrated, that’s all.”
I was impressed with her vocabulary at the time and nodded aimlessly. I looked down at th name tag pinned to her light blue hoodie. In neat block print it read Shayne Riley, Class 1.
“You’re in class one?” I asked her. Of course she was, but I still felt I should ask. Shayne laughed and smiled again.
“Yes,” she replied, “And you’re in Class 2. Am I correct?”
“Um... sure!” I replied, confused out of my skull.
“Maybe we could find each other’s classes, because it appears you’ve lost your way also.” she told me. I raised a brow at her as I proceeded to look over both of my shoulders quickly. Alas, Shayne was right. I was alone.
“Um,” I thought for a moment. Should I trust this girl? I debated for several seconds in my head when my heart answered, “Yes.”
Shayne smiled again and took my hand in hers, pulling me along down the winding hallway. She spoke up when we reached the lobby, which was a small walk away. “May I ask your name?” she asked me. I nodded and remained silent for a few seconds. Shayne motioned for me to go on.
“Oh!” I squealed, “It’s Franchesca.”
“Franchesca. Franchesca,” Shayne repeated to herself, as if she were examining it. “May I call you Frankie?”
“Um... sure!” I replied, unsure of the name itself. Shayne smiled in reply. We then continued down the hallway.
For a good several minutes, we searched for our class around the museum, flashing glances at the knights and tapestries that surrounded us. After what seemed like a few seconds, to which later I was told we were gone for twenty minutes, we found our classes at a long metal table in the museum cafe.
We were greeted by my teacher Miss Moore (who was later betrothed to our eighth grade science teacher Mr. Miyazaki), who warned us of the dangers of wandering off on our own. After the lecture, Shayne and I faced each other as Miss Moore walked back to the Adult Table to speak with a disgruntled chaperone. Silence loomed over us, until Shayne spoke first.
“Would you like to sit with me for lunch?” she asked me. I nodded and smiled at her. She took my hand in hers once more and led me to the end of the bluish grayish table, where no one was sitting for a good four feet on both sides. As I sat down across from Shayne, I started to hear childish laughter next to us.
I turned to the large group of thirty kids to come face to face with several pointed fingers and loud, screechy laughter. But for once, they weren’t pointed at me. I turned to where they pointed, and there she was. Shayne, in the hot spotlight, not wanting to be noticed.
A freckled face boy (who later became known as Chad, the football team captain) walked up to her and hovered over her small form. I hadn’t noticed it until then, but Shayne was very small for our age. She could have been the shortest and skinniest one in the class, but I didn’t notice, nor care. Not until that one moment in time.
“Hey shrimp,” the boy spat at Shayne, his voice ringing in my ear with it’s annoying shrillness, “How’s it goin’?”
It may have sounded like a simple conversation starter to the oblivious adults, but I knew better. I knew what the boy was doing. It was something my mother had described as ‘egging them on’. Many years later, I described it as ‘fucking with their head.’
“Leave me alone Chad!” Shayne threw back. I noticed that she didn’t look him in the eyes, but instead looked forward at me. I later wondered where she learned this trickery.
“Who's’ this?” he asked snootily, pointing his stubby thumb at me.
“This is Frankie,” Shayne told him matter-of-factly, gesturing her open palm towards me. I nodded after several seconds, forgetting my new nickname for a minute.
Chad make a disgusted face at me, like I was something vile, such as a wet dog or a molded over cup of yogurt. “Frankie’s a boy’s name!” he spat at me, emphasizing the word ‘boy’.
“So what?” Shayne replied, growing more courage.
“So what? So what?!” he started angrily. I looked over to the adults at the table. They were just out of earshot. “A girl shouldn’t have a boy’s name! That’s what’s ‘so what?’.” He smirked, thinking of a good comeback. “You’re probably only hanging out with her because you like her!”
“Of course I like her,” Shayne replied, “She’s my friend.”
“No, I mean like her like her,” Chad put his hands on his hips and snottily continued with his index finger pointed straight at Shayne, “I’m right, aren’t I?” Shayne looked down at her blue Dravens, ashamed. “I knew it! Shayne Riley is in love! With a girl at that!”
And at that moment, Shayne was as small and vulnerable as a baby bird fallen from the nest. Everyone replied with “Eww”’s and laughter. All except for me. My face grew hot and I was burning up with anger. And then I did something that I’ll never regret.
I drew a quarter from my jeans pocket and threw it at Chad.
It hit him square in the forehead, but it didn’t hurt him at all. But it was enough to make everyone gasp and suddenly grow silent. Chad stopped and stared at me as Shayne rose her head. The tears were streaming from her face as she looked up with extreme curiosity and confusion.
“Leave her alone,” I told Chad, “She’s my friend. Now why don’t you and your friends just get over yourselves and leave her alone!” I was yelling at Chad now, “You think you’re all that and a bag of cookies, don’t you? Well, let me clue you in, you’re not! So you go hang out and manipulate your little friends, and if I see you hurting Shayne again, I’ll throw something else at you. Something with buckles!”
And with that, Chad chuckled and walked off to the other side of the table. I proceeded to walk over to Shayne and pulled her into a hug, as my mother did when I was upset after my nightmares. The last thing I remember that day was Shayne looking up at me, tears of joy now streaming from her eyes as she said, “Thank you Frankie.” and hugged me once more.
And that was just the beginning...
xXFrankie’s POVXx
I pulled Shayne along quickly through the woods. As we both weaved in and out of the foliage surrounding us, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. I was so happy that Shayne had come out to me. It would have been too awkward for the both of us if she hadn’t told me.
But why wouldn’t she have told me? I mean, even when we were little, we shared everything. From cookies to secrets. From juice to information. Like I said, everything. My feet beat against the ground so irregularly, I was practically flying now. But I didn’t seem to notice that quickly. My mind was wandering elsewhere. A place in the past.
+++++++++++++++++
Shayne and I didn’t know each other until school had begun for both of us, way back when Playdo was the shit. Our preschool classes were conjoined, and we usually did activities together, but never once did we run into each other, until that fateful day almost twelve years ago.
I remember the October air was crisp with the smell of leaves and freshly cut grass, and I remember my mother had packed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a Capri Sun for lunch that day. And of course, what child wouldn’t remember the fateful bus ride to their first field trip? Two classmates of mine got in a heated verbal argument, and three children had cried when they realized their parents weren’t chaperones for the trip.
But the clearest thing I remembered was drifting off to the paintings gallery in the museum. I had toddled over to a Van Goe painting and stared at it for a while, wondering if the man was really crazy at all. Then I had heard it. The soft laughter of children dying away, and the soft sob from behind a large white pillar.
I turned to the pillar, searching for the noise. “Hello?” I asked the voice, “Is anyone else in here?”
And there she was. Back then, her hair was the whitish blonde it still was today, with noting else in it other than a light blue headband that showed off her twinkling eyes. I remember looking into them, thinking if the sky was jealous of their beauty. She wiped away her tears as I slowly approached her.
Although I wasn’t a very sociable child, I still managed the guts to say, “Hello.”
“Hi,” she replied back. She sniffled a little and looked at me. She then proceeded to flash me her crooked smile, making me smile back.
“Are you okay?” I had asked her, still wondering why she was crying. She nodded her head softly.
“I’m okay,” she alerted me, “I just can’t find my group and I got a little frustrated, that’s all.”
I was impressed with her vocabulary at the time and nodded aimlessly. I looked down at th name tag pinned to her light blue hoodie. In neat block print it read Shayne Riley, Class 1.
“You’re in class one?” I asked her. Of course she was, but I still felt I should ask. Shayne laughed and smiled again.
“Yes,” she replied, “And you’re in Class 2. Am I correct?”
“Um... sure!” I replied, confused out of my skull.
“Maybe we could find each other’s classes, because it appears you’ve lost your way also.” she told me. I raised a brow at her as I proceeded to look over both of my shoulders quickly. Alas, Shayne was right. I was alone.
“Um,” I thought for a moment. Should I trust this girl? I debated for several seconds in my head when my heart answered, “Yes.”
Shayne smiled again and took my hand in hers, pulling me along down the winding hallway. She spoke up when we reached the lobby, which was a small walk away. “May I ask your name?” she asked me. I nodded and remained silent for a few seconds. Shayne motioned for me to go on.
“Oh!” I squealed, “It’s Franchesca.”
“Franchesca. Franchesca,” Shayne repeated to herself, as if she were examining it. “May I call you Frankie?”
“Um... sure!” I replied, unsure of the name itself. Shayne smiled in reply. We then continued down the hallway.
For a good several minutes, we searched for our class around the museum, flashing glances at the knights and tapestries that surrounded us. After what seemed like a few seconds, to which later I was told we were gone for twenty minutes, we found our classes at a long metal table in the museum cafe.
We were greeted by my teacher Miss Moore (who was later betrothed to our eighth grade science teacher Mr. Miyazaki), who warned us of the dangers of wandering off on our own. After the lecture, Shayne and I faced each other as Miss Moore walked back to the Adult Table to speak with a disgruntled chaperone. Silence loomed over us, until Shayne spoke first.
“Would you like to sit with me for lunch?” she asked me. I nodded and smiled at her. She took my hand in hers once more and led me to the end of the bluish grayish table, where no one was sitting for a good four feet on both sides. As I sat down across from Shayne, I started to hear childish laughter next to us.
I turned to the large group of thirty kids to come face to face with several pointed fingers and loud, screechy laughter. But for once, they weren’t pointed at me. I turned to where they pointed, and there she was. Shayne, in the hot spotlight, not wanting to be noticed.
A freckled face boy (who later became known as Chad, the football team captain) walked up to her and hovered over her small form. I hadn’t noticed it until then, but Shayne was very small for our age. She could have been the shortest and skinniest one in the class, but I didn’t notice, nor care. Not until that one moment in time.
“Hey shrimp,” the boy spat at Shayne, his voice ringing in my ear with it’s annoying shrillness, “How’s it goin’?”
It may have sounded like a simple conversation starter to the oblivious adults, but I knew better. I knew what the boy was doing. It was something my mother had described as ‘egging them on’. Many years later, I described it as ‘fucking with their head.’
“Leave me alone Chad!” Shayne threw back. I noticed that she didn’t look him in the eyes, but instead looked forward at me. I later wondered where she learned this trickery.
“Who's’ this?” he asked snootily, pointing his stubby thumb at me.
“This is Frankie,” Shayne told him matter-of-factly, gesturing her open palm towards me. I nodded after several seconds, forgetting my new nickname for a minute.
Chad make a disgusted face at me, like I was something vile, such as a wet dog or a molded over cup of yogurt. “Frankie’s a boy’s name!” he spat at me, emphasizing the word ‘boy’.
“So what?” Shayne replied, growing more courage.
“So what? So what?!” he started angrily. I looked over to the adults at the table. They were just out of earshot. “A girl shouldn’t have a boy’s name! That’s what’s ‘so what?’.” He smirked, thinking of a good comeback. “You’re probably only hanging out with her because you like her!”
“Of course I like her,” Shayne replied, “She’s my friend.”
“No, I mean like her like her,” Chad put his hands on his hips and snottily continued with his index finger pointed straight at Shayne, “I’m right, aren’t I?” Shayne looked down at her blue Dravens, ashamed. “I knew it! Shayne Riley is in love! With a girl at that!”
And at that moment, Shayne was as small and vulnerable as a baby bird fallen from the nest. Everyone replied with “Eww”’s and laughter. All except for me. My face grew hot and I was burning up with anger. And then I did something that I’ll never regret.
I drew a quarter from my jeans pocket and threw it at Chad.
It hit him square in the forehead, but it didn’t hurt him at all. But it was enough to make everyone gasp and suddenly grow silent. Chad stopped and stared at me as Shayne rose her head. The tears were streaming from her face as she looked up with extreme curiosity and confusion.
“Leave her alone,” I told Chad, “She’s my friend. Now why don’t you and your friends just get over yourselves and leave her alone!” I was yelling at Chad now, “You think you’re all that and a bag of cookies, don’t you? Well, let me clue you in, you’re not! So you go hang out and manipulate your little friends, and if I see you hurting Shayne again, I’ll throw something else at you. Something with buckles!”
And with that, Chad chuckled and walked off to the other side of the table. I proceeded to walk over to Shayne and pulled her into a hug, as my mother did when I was upset after my nightmares. The last thing I remember that day was Shayne looking up at me, tears of joy now streaming from her eyes as she said, “Thank you Frankie.” and hugged me once more.
And that was just the beginning...