Frankly

“What a bitch.” The brunette sighed, rubbing his neck.

“Shut the fuck up Sam, you don’t know what your talking about.” A hooded friend hissed from the Alley.

The Alley was a partially demolished skating rink that had become a great paintball war field. You brought your own supplies or bought some at the store a block away from the Alley. The entrance fee was reasonably cheap so groups gathered from school and were used to hanging out in the general area.

“Dude, she left the goddamn bracelet in the soda and left! Are you just gonna let this crap happen again?”

“Shut up Sam!”the hooded adolescent leaned on the paint smeared wall.

“What are you guys yelling so much about? Alex is pacing the rec room and you guys can be heard from inside.” Phil had entered through the thick plastic curtains and removed his goggles.

“Suzy bombed again. Tom is in denial…again.” Sam rolled his eyes, dodging Tom’s angry fist.

“Suzy broke up with you?” Phil frowned.

“No, she’s just angry because I brought her here. She wanted to go to the movies but I was short on cash.” Tom shoved his hoodie back releasing gelled black spikes.

Sam sighed again. “She fucking dumped the bracelet he gave her on Valentines day in her soda before walking away. She ain’t coming back till he goes back to begging.”

“You fucker!” Tom yelled, lunging at him.

“Hey!” Phil barked, holding his arms out to keep the two friends from attaking each other. “Sam, shut it.” He shoved at them lightly. “Tom, dude…I’m sorry, but it ain’t fair she keeps dropping you out of the blue all the time. It ain’t fair to you.” Tentavly, Phil withdrew his hands, tucking his elbows in. “So chill guys, comeon. Lets go back inside and play a round. I got a new box.”

“Fuck you guys.” Tom pulled away and flipped the hoodie back on, disappearing between the plastic layers of the curtain.

“Dumbass.”

“Sam, you need to chill, he really likes her.”

“And she really likes his money.”

“It doesn’t bother him.” Phil tugged his goggles back on.

“Well it bothers me to see my friend get hurt because of something he can’t do anything about.”

Phil froze, his fingers gripping the elastic band around his ears.

Sam continued, kicking rubble.”It doesn’t matter, only way for him to get over it would be to let go. He’s stubborn, can’t see beyond the change in his pocket.” Sam hesitated. “Maybe that’s why he stil likes her so much, though.”

“What is?”

Sam walked past, holding the curtain to a side. “He knows what to expect. It’s not the first time this crap happens, so he knows it’ll keep happening if he continues the same tactics. Though it hurts, maybe it makes him happy knowing she’ll come back. Maybe its enough for him.”

“That was deep Sam.” Phil let go of his goggles grinning.

“Shut up. Motherfucker does too much work if you ask me. Doesn’t seem worth it.”

Phil watched him slide in, suddenly slouching and crouching close to the ground , exhaling deeply. “I don’t think its enough.”

...........................................................................................................

“Hey Frank, does AB count?”

Frank looked down on the checklist, counting down a column of numbers and letters. “No. Do we have A-?”

The girl at his side squinted at the rack of test tubes, deciphering the letters. “Ummm….oh! yeah, A-.“ She pulled it out and poured its contents into a wider container, “How much do I squeeze out?”

“3cc.”

“Kay.” The girl named Melissa went to finding the instrument she needed as Frank flipped the page, staring blankly at the table he was expected to fill in. He hated Chemistry. It was a useless class that made him socialize with people he hated. He was lucky to have Melissa assaigned ass his partner in class today, she was perfectly comfortable doing what she was told, unfortunately in the most cheerfull manner possible, and not much else. It gave him time to space out.

The teacher roamed the classroom, etching random things on the blackboard and then going back to roaming.

Frank stared at the table more intently this time and for some reason, it made him think of blinked, looked up and around.

Why Phil?

The other students went about their work and Frank put the packet of papers down.

He hadn’t seen Phil in days, out of their English class at least and even then, the distance between each other in class was equal to not even being in the sameroom. The anger that kept Frank distracted of what could have been a mournful end to their friendship, where he, Frank, presumed that had the time not passed with feelings other than sadness, he would still be in a ditch of depression.

The anger that had passed away slowly and eventually left an empty pit. It was strange for Frank to feel nothing and everything on the subject all at once. Not having a choice of when to think about it but instead have instant connections that mean nothing for any reason. The thinking of phil at random points throughout the days confused him beyond recollection. Phil wasn’t so special as to occupy random thoughts, he figured there should be a connection he just couldn’t see. But as of late, the connections were becoming of less importance. Frank’s mind would go blank, at ease after thinking of Phil instead of the anger that had once followed. Also as of late, Frank can get back to whatever was being done before, just like and everyday phase that reeked less of importance.

It was better on Frank anyway.

Although it kept him thinking about it, on how muc easier it’s gotten, it still saddened him.

Phil, his best friend for the past seven years was becoming something other than a memory.

Frank grimaced, today felt as if it were going to be long, filled with nothings that would echo till he went to bed.

He picked up the papers again and pulled a pencil from his backpack. “So what temperature is it?” the tip of the graphite hovered shakily of the page.

Melissa turned the Bunson burner off and pulled the thermometer in a flash. “98 degrees give or take.”

“Okay, check to see if we have 0.”

“Hold on, let me clear this out.”

”Ok.”

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“Hey Frank!” a hand reached out and gripped his shoulder just as he slammed the locker door shut. Rank jumped looking over his shoulder and lettting out a frustrated breath seeing the idiot trying to kill him.

“Hey Sam, what’s up?” Frank readjusted the textbooks on his arm, picking up one from the floor he had dropped and began edging towards the stairway, Sam followed nonchalantly.

“Not much, just wondering what you’ve been up to.” They opened the doors and began descending the steps.

“Not much either, how’s Katie?”

“She’s cool, first month anniversery last Friday.” When Frank turned to congragulate him, Sam was already bearing his teeth in a grin.

“Sweet man, congrats!” Frankperked up, turning back to watching his steps, nudging his elbow against Sam in pride.

“Thanks, took her to Monty’s. Best lay yet.” Frank still smilling, shook his head, Sam hesitated and lowered the upturned corners of his smile. “So how come I haven’t seen you around lately?”

Frank kept looking forward. “Been busy I guess.”

“Dude.” Sam stopped walking , crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “You really think none of us can tell?”

“What?” Frank stopped as well, rigid, staring at the books in his arm. Sam jumpd a couple of steps and moved to stand before Frank, lifting his elbows to cross his arms again. “It’s not right for the two of you to be like this.”

Frank inhaled, wondering if telling Sam off may have the result he wanted and thought better on it, but instead , the image of Phil replaced his view. Frank blinked, rubbing an eyes with a free arm and breathing unsteadily. The muscles in his stomach contracted as he spoke. “Don’t Sam.”

Sam leaned against the railing, his eyes narrowing at Frank. “So because you guys have problems means that you can’t hang out with your friends anymore?”

“Its not like that.”

“That’s what it looks like. I don’t like the fact that I gotta corner you in order to know why we can’t hang out. So why can’t we hang out?”

Frank lowered, sitting on a step and dropping the books next to him, Phil’s face flashing by. “We had a really bad fight. Like, really bad and we hurt each other. I’m still in the process of getting over it.”

Sam sat next to him. “You guys had problems a while ago, was it about the same thing?”

Frank covered his face, he slouched and with a weary voice replied, “Yes.”

“You want me to help? I can talk to Phil.” Sam pat his back quickly in dry comfort.

“No.” Frank lifted his head and rubbed his face. “No, I don’t want to fix it. I don’t think we can, I just want to get over it.”

Sam watched as Frank continued to rub his face, as if trying to erase something. He looked away towards the wall full of dirty handprints. “Phil’s been acting all weird too, you know.”

Frank didn’t say anything. Sam pressed on, “ He’s getting on everyone’s nerves, and everytime someone asks about you he goes off and yelling like a crazy fucker.”

“Enough Sam. What do you want me to say? That I’ll show up to the next meeting? No, I won’t. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to see him, I don’t want to see things that remind me of him. Things are bad enough as they are, I don’t need you to guilt trip me about it too.” Frank stood, picking his books up. “ Until I can get my shit straight, I won’t hang out with you guys. Sorry but that’s the way it is.” Frank stared intently at Sam’s surprised face.

Sam eased into a smile, standing and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Ok.”

“Ok.” Frank nodded and turned, going down the steps, Sam followed quietly until they left the school building.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Frank stared at himself in the mirror, the reflection getting caught by a streak of light that reflected white on the glass. It seperated his head from the neck and he stared at it intensly. His matted curls from sleeping too long poked at different angle, parts were white with the light and others reamined an absolute black. His eyes, half lidded, stared back at him, the dark brown in them hauntingly empty, void of emotion and the pale tone of his skin a sickning yellow.

‘Disgusting .’ Frank thought, running a hand to his jaw, a couple of hairs pinching his fingers. He traced the scar by his left eyebrow from when he had fallen down the stairs at the age of four, the day his father had laft home.

He pulled off his shirt and in the change of stance, the light reflecting on the mirror moved to make a break on his chest instead. Wringing his hands his eyebrows arched in worry and a loud gulping sound emitted from his throught. With widened eyes he stepped back till his heel hit the bed and he sat dumbly on the matress, still staring at his reflection, the light now hitting his head.