Frankie Fever

“Bye bye, Jersey,” Frank called, laughing hard as he did so.

I grinned as we left Newark. Onwards to New York. Stealing the little green Ford KA had been too easy. Within ten minutes we were driving away. It was obvious Frank had driven before. He did it with ease. Flair even.

Cars around us drove on past, unaware there were two fifteen year olds in the car, driving illegally to New York. There was nowhere I’d rather be than here with my best friend right now.

My phone beeped. It was a text message from Bert.

Wht happnd? Where r u?

I chose to ignore it.

Frank leaned over for a nanosecond, his eyes flicking from the road to my phone to the road to my phone continuously. He looked curious.

“That your boyfriend?” He asked.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I insisted.

He scoffed.

“Well, you’re all dressed up for someone, sunshine, and it ain’t me!”

Irritation began to prickle me.

“Yeah, well there wasn’t really much point thanks to you, was there?”

“Fine, get lost!” He snapped viciously “Go back home!”

“No.”

“I mean it, Gerard, leave me alone!”

He even pulled over in a lay-by to prove his point. I stayed belted into my seat stubbornly. Frank growled, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles seemed to glow white.

I sat patiently, waiting for him to calm down. He had a bit of a temper sometimes. It just took patience. I pulled the mirror down to check my smudged eyeliner while Frank tried to breathe slowly beside me. In through the nose and out through the mouth.

“Look, I didn’t mean it, okay?” He finally said.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I shrugged.

He sighed and rested his head on the steering wheel, still breathing deeply. I looked across at the beautiful dark wheel and the shiny gear stick, feeling the urge inside me.

As Frank sat back up and reached underneath him to restart the car, I asked it.

“Can I drive?”

“Don’t be stupid,” He replied immediately.

“Please!” I begged “You said anyone can drive. You can do it, how hard can it be?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He demanded but I could see the playful smile.

I grinned cheekily.

“Okay, fine,” He agreed “Just take it slow, okay?”

I promised I would. I’d watched my parents drive for years, dreaming when I could do it. It looked easy. So we swapped and Frank started the car for me, leaning across me to reach the wires while ordering me not to “get any ideas”.

He then insisted on giving me this long lecture on how to drive and what everything did and when to change gear and how to avoid being heavy-footed with the clutch. Blah blah. Don’t turn around, use the mirrors. Hold the wheel like this. All that stuff. What was he, a driving instructor?

I breathed out slowly, excitement making the tips of my fingers tingle as I clutched the wheel. I was about to drive a powerful tonne of metal on a road for the first time in my life.

“Okay, down on the accelerator,” I began slowly, pushing down as I said it “And ease off clutch.”

I could imagine Frank rolling his eyes beside me. I began forwards, pulling out at a snails pace first to try and get used to the feel of the car. Frank pulled the indicator, telling me off for forgetting. I shrugged.

“Come on, Miss Daisy,” Frank said impatiently “It is possible to go faster then 5 miles an hour. You afraid of spraining your vagina or something?”

“Okay,” I shrugged “Faster it is.”

I wasn’t doing too bad, if I do say so myself. A steady pace down the road. The other cars didn’t seem to suspect a thing. So I went a bit faster. And faster until I was driving at the same pace as other cars.

Frank applauded. I grinned to myself proudly. This wasn’t so bad.

“You need to change gear!” Frank said suddenly “Gerard, change gear now.”

“To which one?” I questioned helplessly, looking at the stick.

“Just the next one up!” Frank insisted “Gerard come one!”

I reached down to change and the car spluttered and began to stop-start. Frank brushed my hand away impatiently, calling me a retard, and tried to change the gear for me. Offended, I ignored him until I realised what it was he was saying.

“The clutch, Gerard!” He snapped “You need to press the clutch down for me!”

I did as instructed and felt better as the car began as normal. I sighed in relief and went back to focusing on my driving.

“Ease up off,” I told myself.

Frank groaned beside me, claiming he’d have killed himself by the time we got there. I frowned. He was the most impatient person I’d ever known. There must have been a time when he was a crap driver too, we’re not born with a licence. And then:

“Oh, shit, which one’s the brake?” I questioned in panic.

“What?” Frank exclaimed “Middle one! Middle one!”

I burst into laughter at his sudden panic. It’s fun messing with people. When he realised I was messing, Frank growled grumpily.

“Not funny!”

“You should have seen your face,” I giggled “It was hilarious.”

“I thought I was gonna’ die!” He snipped.

I tried not to laugh at him again, he was in a strop with me now. He liked pulling the pranks, not being victim to one. It was funny to see him sat there with his arms folded grumpily.

He refused to talk for ten minutes. I tried coaxing him into talking to me but he refused to. When he did speak it was concern. And it was a comment on my driving.

“Okay, slow down.”

Being the smart ass I was, I chose to ignore him. He waited for me to do so. When I didn’t, he raised his voice a bit more, trying to show he wasn’t messing with me.

“Gerard. Slow. Down.”

“Why?”

He sounded frightened. It was amusing. I gripped the wheel and kept my foot in a the same place on the accelerator. It wasn’t my fault if he was wimping out.

“You’re going too fast. We’re gonna’ get pulled over!”

“Don’t you want to get to New York?”

“Yeah, preferably not in a body bag!”

“You don’t like it, do you?” I teased “You’re scared.”

“Just slow down, Gerard!” He snapped.

My expression changed as a car suddenly sped out in front of me. I screamed and pulled the wheel hard to my right. Frank screamed beside me as we swerved, crying for me to brake.

When we stopped, other cars beeped as the sped past. Frank yelled himself hoarse, ordering me to find the next lay by and stop there.

“GERARD, YOU IDIOT!” He yelled “THAT IS WHY YOU SLOW DOWN! HE HAD RIGHT OF WAY!”

He unbuckled his belt and got out of the car, fumbling in the pockets of his jeans for a cigarette. I followed anxiously. He turned away from me, lighting his cigarette.

“Go away!” He snapped.

“Where?”

“Not my problem, I don’t want you with me!”

“I didn’t see him, Frank, I’m sorry!”

“Whatever,” He snapped “Just go back home.”

I walked to the other side to try and meet his angry expression. He refused to look at me, puffing speedily through his cigarette. The faster he smoked a cigarette, usually, the more he felt the need to steady his nerves. I slowly chain it when I’m anxious, Frank would go through his cigarettes at an alarming speed when he was anxious.

“I can’t, I’m in the middle of nowhere,” I appealed.

He sighed heavily, leaning against the road barrier. Eventually, he held a cigarette out to me. I thanked him and sparked up.

Frank looked up at the dark sky, watching the stars quietly. I shamefully smoked on my cigarette, glancing at him occasionally, not sure what to say. He was still deathly pale, clearly trying to overcome the shock.

“Why didn’t I just let that guy kick it into me?” He asked “We could be back at mine, laughing about it now.”

I looked at him in surprise. He could be stupid sometimes.

“But it’s not funny,” I replied firmly.

“It could be,” He shrugged.

“Frank, he could have really hurt you!” I appealed “You’re lucky.”

“Of course he could have, he did hurt me. It’s my own fault.”

Eh, what?

“No, it’s not, you didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

He’d always had twisted logic, ever since I met him. Tonight wasn’t any different. But, while it was twisted, it kind of made sense. He just seemed to be reaching a weak conclusion through his twisted reasoning power.

“Well, I wasn’t trying to form a protest,” He insisted “I knew I’d probably be in trouble if she had a guy.”

“But you didn’t know. And you never care. That‘s the problem.”

“No I don‘t care, so what?”

“And you wonder why you have the reputation you have,” I sighed heavily “You always wonder why you can’t have a girlfriend instead of a date or a fling?”

He didn’t say anything. I took a last drag of my cigarette and stamped it out.

“Girls only want to sleep with you because that’s the message you give out!” I insisted.

“Well, why does it bother you so much?” He questioned “You knew I was like this.”

He looked genuinely confused. I looked at him, laying my feelings out flat in front of him. Maybe I’d get through to him. It worked for Dad. Why would Frank be any different.

“Because, Frank, you’re actually really smart, funny, cool, gorgeous and you have potential,” I appealed truthfully “But you waste it all by acting ignorant and having sex with complete strangers while getting wasted!”

I turned to return to the car. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. It’d be some crap that I wouldn’t want to hear. I didn’t want to argue with him any more. I just wanted to get to New York and sleep.

“But it’s my choice! It‘s what I like!”

I ignored him.

Eventually, he followed and took the driver’s seat. I rested my head against the window apathetically. Neither of us spoke while Frank started the car.

“New York?”

“Don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t,” He shrugged “You’re going places. You’re gonna’ have a great life. You’ll finish High School, go to college, get a really great job and become really rich. Marry a rich guy who loves you and live somewhere really classy like London and make loads of posh stuffy English friends.”

“You could do all that stuff, if you wanted,” I replied.

He smiled sadly “When I finish my prison sentence and leave with an asshole the size of Calcutta?”

I giggled at the image. He’d walk like he’d just gotten off a horse. It was a funny image.

“Yeah, yeah,” He giggled with me “I’ll leave jail looking like a cowboy, I’ll have to practice my Southern accent!”

I giggled again.

“You’re gonna’ have a great life, Gerard,” He said seriously “Even if you don’t go to college, you’ll be a famous singer! You’ll have an awesome penthouse with a view of the River Thames and that giant clock thing-”

“You mean Big Ben?”

“Yeah, that one! And you’ll marry someone else really famous, Elton John-”

“He’s already married, genius!” I interrupted “And he’s way too old anyway!”

“Whatever, you get my meaning,” He shrugged “I’ll never have any of that stuff. I’ll have a grotty little apartment that smells of cat piss and a grumpy old land lady who chucks my stuff out the window when I’m behind on the rent.”

I sighed sadly and looked over at him. He was staring at the sky again.

“I wish I could live the high life, even for a day.”

I took pity. I’d make it my mission to make his dream come true. Genie in a bottle, me. I smiled encouragingly at him.

“Well, drive.”