37: Franny (1/2)
37. Franny
Tyler and I sit at the end of a long table in the cafeteria, facing each other. We both have our books and binders laid out around us, and a bit of crap food from the cafeteria sitting in front of us. I take a bite of the pizza and turn a page in my history textbook.
”I'm gonna fail,” I say.
”No, you're not.” Tyler rolls his eyes. ”Just study, you'll be fine.”
I huff and put the pizza down. Looking up, I notice Tyler glance across the room. I slide my eyes over to where he's looking and see a table filled with a few boys, most of them wearing our school football shirts. I look towards Tyler and sigh.
”I know you miss it,” I say. ”You always try and convince me you don't, that you're over it but you're not.”
Tyler snaps his eyes over to mine before looking down at his food. ”I just . . . sometimes I miss little things. How I'd feel when we finished a game. When we'd all go to the same place to eat every time we won. How the coach would tell me that I'd done good. And yeah, sometimes I miss them. They used to be my best friends.”
”Why aren't they still?” I ask.
”I pushed them away,” Tyler says. ”Wasn't really in the mood to try and keep friendships going so eventually they gave up on me. Not their fault.”
”I'm sure they still care about you,” I say.
”They have a new captain of the football team,” he says. ”They don't need me anymore.”
”That's a lie.” I give him a pointed look. ”They'd take you back in seconds and you know they would.”
Tyler looks back over at his old friends and shrugs. ”Not yet though. Not ready yet.” He clears his throat. ”How's your dad?
”Good,” I say. ”Pretty much back to normal now. He's used to the whole missing eye thing. He sometimes gets a little freaked out but he's okay.”
”Is he any . . . better?”
”You mean has he stopped being an asshole?” I smile. ”Yeah, a bit. I mean, I don't know how long it will last but he's nicer.” I trace my finger along the table. ”I missed that.”
Tyler squeezes my hand briefly and finishes up his food.
”What are you doing tonight?”
I shrug. ”Probably just stay home and relax for once. You?”
”I have a fight,” Tyler says tightly.
My face falls. ”A fight?” I echo. ”I thought Carl would be easier on you now.”
”He already has been,” Tyler says. ”He thinks it's been too long since I did a fight. He wants to see another one.”
This is getting out of hand.
I close my eyes and reach along the table to touch the top of his hand as he did to me a few moments before.
”Be safe,” I say. ”Please.”
Tyler winces. ”I'll try.”
***
Tally completely destroys any hope I might have had of a peaceful night in, when she comes barreling towards my locker at the end of the school day. She slams her hand against the one beside mine, making me jump nearly a mile in the air. I narrow my eyes at her and zip up my backpack and slide it over my shoulder.
”Can you not do that?” I ask.
”You remember that father-daughter dance?” she asks, completely ignoring what I just said.
”Yeah, what about it?”
”Well, I've decided that I'm going to pull a big ol' middle finger to the people that set it up and go anyway, even though I don't have a dad to go with me,” Tally explains.
”Well good for you,” I say and shut my locker door.
”And you're coming with me,” Tally finishes and I gawk at her.
”No, I'm not.”
”Yes, you are!” Tally whines. ”I can't go alone, and you never have anything better to do!”
”My dad only just came back from the hospital yesterday,” I say. ”I can't just ditch him.”
”Yes you can, it's totally fine. He won't even notice you're gone,” Tally pleads.
I sigh and lean against my locker. ”I don't want to go.”
”So? They have free food. And knowing Jonah, he'll probably have a keg in the back of his car that we can run out to when the parents aren't looking.”
”I don't even like school dances,” I mumble.
”I don't this, I don't that.” Tally rolls her eyes. ”Have some fun for once. You've been all down about your dad, so this is the perfect opportunity to finally have a bit of fun for once. You're going to turn into a sad little old lady before you know it, if you don't stop.”
I press my cheek against the cold metal and pout at Tally, who just glares at me. ”Fine, fine,” I say. ”I'll go to this stupid dance. Not promising that I'll be good company, though.”
”Yes!” Tally cheers and hugs me. ”Thank you, thank you, thank you. Now, we just need to get changed, the dance is at seven.”
”Seven?” I frown. ”It's not like we have a curfew at nine.”
”It's a school, Franny, they aren't going to let us stay till one in the morning. And it's not even a cool dance anyway, dads are gonna be there.”
”True,” I mutter and begin to walk down the hallway. ”I don't have to dress really formal, right?”
Tally frowns for a moment. ”I mean . . . I don't think so. Doesn't matter anyway. We're supposed to be opposing the whole dance, not trying to abide by its dress code.”
”Also true,” I say and hold the door open for Tally as we step out of the school.
”Tally!” I hear someone call from the left and look over to see a tall boy run over.
He stops in front of us and gives a wide smile full of perfect teeth. His blond hair is gelled in an awful spiky arrangement, but I manage to pull my eyes away from it to look at his face.
”You coming to the dance tonight?” he asks. ”My uncle's coming with me and Jonah said he'll bring a keg.”
”Never doubted he would,” Tally laughs. ”And yeah, I'll be there. This is Franny, by the way. She's coming with me.”
”Hey.” The guy waves. ”I'm Ryan.”
”Hey,” I reply.
”Shit,” Tally suddenly says. ”The buses are about to go. I'll see you later, yeah?”
Ryan nods. ”See you guys there.”
I rush towards the buses with Tally and stop at the door to my bus.
”I've never seen that guy before,” I say. ”Ryan . . .?”
”Hensley,” Tally supplies. ”He's in my chemistry class.”
”Hensley.” I frown.
The name sounds familiar, but I can't for the life of me remember where I might have heard it. I shake my head and Tally promises to pick me up later for the dance before she heads to her own bus. When the bus gets my stop, I sluggishly get off and walk towards my house.
Inside, my dad is sitting on the couch, the TV on and some work folders littering the dining table.