Page 55 of Summer Breakdown
“That’s what I said!” Frankie says, moving closer. She can see Ezra watching them but she doesn’t care if hears anything. Honestly, she’d forgotten anyone but Jasmine was here. “I already had to prove myself ten times over even though I am better than most mediocre white men and they still want me to have a struggle story. They kept asking about growing up on a council estate and how I escaped,” she says, tapping her fingers against her thighs.
“Like mum and dad don’t live there still. As if I hated my childhood. I don’t get why black women can’t just be good at something without the trauma. I don’t want to dig through the mess in my life, so they’re satisfied and then I get money I don’t know what to do with.”
“You couldn’t be a mess,” Jasmine says, then, “What could you get out of it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Mal is a wizard with sponsorships,” Jasmine replies. “I’ve seen the number of new wigs Zach’s bought recently. What do you really want? Could you get it with this?”
“A woman’s team,” Frankie says. “But you already know that.”
Jasmine hums, smiling at her. There’s a small blush across her nose that has nothing to do with taking her down. “I got all my information from one search.”
“Sure,” Frankie replies. Jasmine is annoyingly easy to talk to.
“Will you let me on it without an audition? You saw the way I took you down, right?”
“Yes,” Frankie says quickly. She’d give her anything. “I will.”
Jasmine smiles, then, “You know Glory Park want you for your face too, right?”
Frankie rolls her eyes, but before she can respond Mali comes back over, and Jasmine smiles at her. Then, she turns back to Frankie.
“You going to train?”
Frankie nods, though she’s not sure she’s going to be able to say anything at all.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“Well, we have strawberry lemonades to drink on the side-lines and we’re hoping to see some hot men train,” Mali replies, sitting down and putting her feet up.
Jasmine hums, then, when Frankie turns to leave, she casually says, “I’m only here to watch the Coach.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Frankieistryingtoget back into Jasmine’s good graces, but she is coming up short. Jasmine doesn’t post anything online that Frankie can reply to. She doesn’t look her way when she brings the kids in for training. Last week, they went to the quiz, and Jasmine sat at the other end of the table.
There’s no way she isn’t fucking it up. Frankie knows that. She has written essays on her phone about it. Every time she sees her, Frankie’s stomach flips as if she just went over a hill in her shitty car. Jasmine talks to her if she’s right in front of her, and it’s so easy, but the moments she’s gone Frankie can’t convince herself that Jasmine would want to hear from her. That if she initiated anything, Jasmine wouldn’t sigh.
She has been waiting for a reason to talk to Jasmine beyond wanting to know every thought in her head. So, now that the clock has ticked past six twenty, she’s almost hopping with anticipation. There are lingering nerves, of course, as with Frankie’s entire life, but what’s more is that Jasmine isn’t here. There will be a good reason Frankie is the only one still at the club with Lani and Marcel.
The issue is that Jasmine’s always here.
Usually, she ruins Frankie’s life from the bench. Frankie will try and tell an uncoordinated child that they aren’t bad, they just need to switch their position, and then she’ll hear the delightful melody of Jasmine’s laugh. Or she comes in to grab Mali for their lunchtime walk and Frankie waits with bated breath to see if Jasmine’s wearing shorts or a skirt.She’s always around with a smile on her face until she looks at Frankie, and then her entire mood changes.
So, Frankie’s not mad that it’s now six twenty-two and she finally has a reason to call her. Jasmine picks up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Frankie says. “Erm, it’s Frankie. From the rugby club.”
“I know what your voice sounds like.”
Frankie screws up her nose, thankful Jasmine can’t see it. It’s loud where she is.
“Are you on your way?” Frankie asks, blocking her ear with her finger. The line crackles, and Frankie pulls the phone from her ear in the hopes it’ll tell her what’s going on, but she called from the landline.
“Jasmine?”
