Goody, Like Two Shoes

"You look adorable, you know?"

I turned my head to the side, looking at the person beside me, their arm linked playfully in mine.

"Thank you." I nodded, trailing a fingertip over the brown moustache that had been painted just above my lips, "You don't look too bad, either."

Frank grinned and wiggled his eyebrows, the two red, curved lines painted above them moving, too, "I declare a cookie feast. Have you got any cookies at your place, huh huh?"

"Yes; but it's a wonder that I do - you eat them all, you pig."

He faked offence, his free hand clutched to his chest, "I'm a growing boy."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes, watching the figure walking a few hundred metres in front of us : Millie.

Even though we were all walking in the same direction, Millie refused to be within a few feet of Frank after our - mostly his - paint war began; to which she stormed off to a desk at the front of the class to probably stare at Gerard who had he legs up on his desk, a Marvel comic perched on his thighs as he chomped away on some pickled onion Monster Munch.

"So..." Frank began, stepping onto the porch, minutes later, "Open the door. I want cookies. Now. Lots of them. Oh, and fizzy drinks; can't forget the fizzy drinks. Hurry up, and get your ass up here before I die of withdrawal symptoms."

I swung my house keys in my hand and took my time walking up the garden, watching Frank's foot as it began to tap rapidly - impatiently - against the cement.

He gave me a "come on, or I'll hit you" look before speaking, "Time is ticking; and I need cookies."

"You have cookies at you own house."

"I know," he shrugged, "But your house is cool, man."

I shook my head, laughing, and let him into the house.
These days, he acted like he lived here: he pulled his hoodie off, leaving his hair in a god awful mess, then he kicked his shoes off and shoved them under the hall table next to mine, before heading to the kitchen, raiding my cookie jar, getting hyper on soda, then sprawling himself over my bed as he came down from his sugar-induced high.

Today, he did exactly the same thing - except he took a bypass through the living room so he could hug my dog that was sitting sleepily in front of the fireplace.

Five minutes later, we were on our way upstairs; Frank laden with any sugary food he could find during his raid on the kitchen cupboards, a packet of Oreos even tucked between his stomach and the waistband of his jeans.

Once cross-legged on my bed, Frank rummaged in the back pocket of his tight-fitting jeans, whipping out a packet of Skittles, then separating the different coloured sweets, that had been smuggled from the kitchen, into different piles.

He smiled as he pushed the green and purple piles across the bed in my direction, 'Your favourites, m'lady.'

With that, he pulled "Hamlet" from his schoolbag, looking at me while patting the space beside him on the plain, light blue duvet, announcing cheerily, "It's H.F.T.!"

I dragged myself over to him, pulling my biology book from my bag once I was perched beside him, "What the hell's "H.F.T", Frankie?"

He tilted his head at me, scratching his chin, "That's odd..."

"What's odd?"

"You." he shrugged, "You've never called me Frankie before."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Whatever..."

He sighed, flicking through the pages, "And, anyways, "H.F.T." stands for Help Frank Time."

With that, he quietened, slumping down so he could lean against my side, and his fingertip trailed under the words that he was reading to himself.

Only when there was a quiet snore, at least a half an hour later, did I avert my eyes from the book on my lap.

With his forehead on my shoulder and his mouth open slightly, Frank's fingers twitched as he mumbled in his sleep.

I smiled to myself; this had to be the first time that I had seen him so quiet and peaceful. So, in hopes of him staying asleep, I pushed him back gently so he was lying down.

My plan, unfortunately, didn't work, and a pair of dark brown eyes opened sleepily, taking a few seconds to focus on me properly before arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me down.

Closing his eyes, Frank whispered into my hair, "Nap with me."

I held back a laugh, "Okay, Frankie. Go back to sleep."

Oddly enough, I felt rather safe and warm tucked up against his chest.

"Hey, you."

I was woken up to feel fingers poking my cheek, and I looked up to see Frank.

"Mm?" I yawned, "What is it?"

He laughed, tugging my arms to help me sit up, "Wake up, sleepyhead. Do you want to go out with me tonight?"Did he just ask me to go on a date? No, he did not. My brain's not yet functioning properly.

"What?" I mumbled, falling forward sleepily, and my head landed against his collarbone.

"Snap out of it, lazy!" Frank shook my shoulders, still laughing, "I asked if you'd like to go into Newark with me tonight; a friend's band is playing a concert."

I stared at him, "You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah, why not? Only if you want to go, though."

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and glanced at my watch that read: 6pm.
"I've never been out after late, before."

"Well, Sashie-Blashie, this'll be your maiden voyage!" Frank's hands grabbed mine and he pulled me up, "Now get ready."

"Can you see me - dressed like I am - "hanging out" with all you gothic kids? They'll all laugh at me."

Frank was doubled over with laughter, "Sash, get with the times; we're not goth."

"Oh."

"If you're not comfortable going dressed like that, we can stop off at my house and you can borrow some clothes, or something?" Frank suggested.

"Frank, why are you being so nice to me?" I asked, looking at my loafers.

"Because that's what friends do, right?" he smiled, "'They're nice to each other."

"Okay; I'll come with you --"

"Good."

"--but on one condition." I poked his arm.

"What's that, then?" Frank asked, fishing in his schoolbag for a pair of fingerless, grey gloves.

"You get me home before midnight."

Frank smirked, "Okay. Your wish is my command, Cinderella."

I pushed him out of my room, flicking the light off behind us, and we headed down the stairs, "I just have to tell my parents first, okay?"

"Okay." Frank nodded once we reached the bottom, and he linked his arm in mine, "You're so my homie."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I dragged him towards the closed kitchen door, stopping abruptly when I heard my name being mentioned on the other side.

Frank's name was said next, and he tilted his head, padding across the wooden flooring until his ear was pressed against the white painted door.

He beckoned me over, and I tiptoed carefully, pressing my own ear against the wood.

My mom's voice.

"--went up earlier to ask them if they wanted dinner. I found them asleep on the bed, cuddling. What do you think of that, Joe?"

My father's chuckle could be heard, "I think that we should bet on it."

Frank gave me a questioning nudge, but I ignored it.

"You'll owe me a lot of cash by the time this is over!" Mom laughed, "They won't last that long - I'll give it another month."

Dad replied with, "Another week and a half; plus I'd say that he's using her."

"Ten dollars?"

"It's a deal, Holly."

There was another round of laughing, and I could feel tears well up in my eyes as Frank's hazel pair looked at me sadly.

My mom's voice could be heard again, "I'll go up to see if they're awake yet."

Frank jumped back from the door hastily, pulling me with him, and my back hit the wall as we could hear my mom's slippers patter along the kitchen floor towards the door.

Frank stood in front of me, his hands pressed against the wall just above my head on either side, and one of his knees was between mine.
"I need to ask you something important."

I wiped my eyes quickly, ridding them of tears, "What?"

"Close your eyes and I'll tell you"

I raised an eyebrow before doing as he had asked, and I felt him cup his hand by my ear.

It must've been some top secret question...

I waited for him to talk, and as we heard the doorknob to the kitchen jiggle, Frank let his hand drop from my ear, and he did the unthinkable...