Page 32 of Summer Breakdown
“M’Baku is out,” Marcel replies.
“What?” Frankie asks, getting her phone out, but it hangs uselessly in her hand when Ezra stands up. He hugs Jasmine. Like they know each other beyond the open day. Ezra doesn’t hug people. They mutter to each other, and Frankie wants to tell them to enunciate. The office needs someone to project their voice if they want to be heard.
He fist-bumps Marcel, and Frankie is about to strop. She looks at her phone instead.
“Fuck,” Frankie mutters. M’Bakuisout. He’s not injured, so she doesn’t feel bad for celebrating. He’s sick. Not ideal. The team still won’t be easy to beat, but it means the Titans can use their preferred lineup.
“What do you think, Marcel?” Frankie asks. Marcel looks terrified, but in a good way. Like he’s a teenage boy who is in the same room as the rugby players he has on his bedroom wall. “If M’Baku is out, what formation should we use?”
His eyebrows move rapidly, like Jasmine’s do when she’s thinking.
“They’ll play Ashford, but only for half because he’s not fit at the moment,” Marcel replies. Frankie knows that, but she wonders if they’ll risk it anyway.
“You could start Bright and then bring Azan on at half-time. Then if they play Ashford the entire time, he’ll be toast.”
“You think they’ll start him?” Frankie asks. Lani might prefer Ezra, but she’ll get Marcel on side.
“That or they’d have to start Giggs, and he’s useless.” True. Marcel continues. “We’re good enough to beat Groundhogs, even if M’Baku wasn’t out. Tactics are good,” Marcel replies, “but do you want to win and then have people say you only won because of tactics instead of winning because we’re the better team?”
Frankie tilts her head. “Why are you so wise? Aren’t you fourteen?”
Marcel blushes.
“When Ezra was fourteen, he—”
“Alright,” Ezra calls out. Frankie had nothing anyway. She can barely remember her childhood. Depression stole so much from her.
“Right,” Frankie says. “We run the team as normal. What’s the next thing on the agenda?”
“Nothing,” Ezra replies. “This isn’t a meeting.”
“Fuck off, then,” she says, then slaps her hands over her face. Lani giggles, and Frankie turns to look at Jasmine. “I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs with a smile. “It’s okay.”
Ezra bends down to whisper to Lani, and then she says, “Frankie?”
“Yes, babe?”
Lani giggles, checking with Ezra, and he nods. “Swear jar.”
Frankie smiles brightly, but she will put her money in. It does nothing to lessen the guilt that swirls in her stomach. It’s just a swear word. There’s a chance Lani has heard it before, but she feels bad all the same. Frankie’s not sure Jasmine likes her. Sometimes, they talk online, but only if Frankie replies to something she posted. Jasmine never messages her. Frankie deals with her anxiety as best she can, but she wishes it didn’t feel like the end of the world right now.
“Frankie,” Jasmine says, and she snaps up to look at her. Jasmine’s closer than she thought she would be, and she has a light shimmer to her lips. Frankie wants to know if she tastes like cherries again. “Lani knows the word fuck, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Jasmine tilts her head. She’s life-ruiningly pretty. “Get out of your head, then.”
Frankie huffs out a laugh. It’s nice to feel like she’s back there—under the stars, by the riverside, with a pretty girl’s hand in hers.
“Okay. Thank you.”
Jasmine sits down again, but she’s closer than she was before. Frankie wonders if it’s by accident or if she did it on purpose so it’ll be all Frankie thinks about when she goes to sleep.
“Mama,” Lani says, “can Ezra pick me up?”
Jasmine smiles. “If he says yes, then yes.”
