Opposite of Always(87)

“It was your dad, okay! There! Now you know! Are you happy now?”

But Franny’s shaking his head. “I already knew, man. I just wanted to hear you say it.” He kicks the bag toward me, and it zips across the uneven planks. “Take your money and stay the fuck away from me.”

“Franny . . .”

“I promise you on Abuela’s life that if you don’t climb down that ladder right now, I’m going to throw your lying, backstabbing, trifling ass down myself.”

I believe him.

But part of me wants to hang out on that ladder just long enough to antagonize Franny and get the ass beating I’ve deserved for far too long, the one that he has no business sparing me.

“What? You think I’m lying? That I won’t do it?” he spits. His face and fists squeezed in fury.

“No,” I say. “I believe you.”

Say what you want, but Franny’s a man of his word.

Which is far more than anyone could say about me.

I drop the duffel to the ground. I let go of the ladder.

Prom and graduation fly by in the senior-year whirlwind.

Prom with Jillian is fun. We dance the night away. But I spend a lot of the evening wondering what’ll happen once Franny shows up. He never does.

I take my Avoid Franny at All Costs tactics to new heights. He’s playing the same game. And we rarely see each other.

The Panthers advance deeper into the playoffs than before, and I wonder what the Franny-Jack rift has to do with that. Of course, maybe the answer is nothing at all.

Jillian and I go to their third playoff game, and Jillian waves at Franny from up in the stands during warm-ups, and he flashes her a small smile. Rita Marquez, who rumor has it is his new girlfriend, is three rows below us, holding up a poster that she’s adorned in Magic Marker swirls and happy faces and that has a massive hot-pink arrow that points down at her head, and the poster says Cisco’s Cheerleader. She waves the poster around like she’s fanning the crowd, as though she’s attempting to single-handedly cool down the entire gymnasium.

Franny’s a madman on the court. There’s not a rebound he doesn’t snag, a shot he doesn’t contest on defense. As usual, he’s an offensive stat-stuffer, scoring twenty-eight points and racking up five assists.

This time his play spells victory for Elytown High.

Our classmates and his teammates mob him at center court.

I consider congratulating him, but I decide not to press my luck. But then he bursts through the crowd, runs up the stands, and squeezes Rita, and it’s weird not to say something.

“Good game, man,” I offer.

He shakes his head. “Good?”

“Great game,” I correct myself.

“My baby is unstoppable, right,” Rita coos. She cups his face and they kiss, and I wonder if this is the cue for Jillian and me to leave.

But then Franny says, “You guys are coming to the celebration, right?”

“I hope it’s cool. I mean, it’s in the bougie part of town, so you never know,” Rita says. “Oh, wait, don’t you live over there, Jack?”

I’m not quite sure how to take her question. “A few blocks over actually,” I reply.

Jillian smiles. “I’m sure you’d have more fun, you know, without us around. But thanks, Franny. That’s really sweet of you.”

Franny leers at me. “Time heals all wounds. Isn’t that what they say, Jack?”

“Right,” I say.

Although I know Time is as likely to inflict wounds.

Jillian decides that Franny’s invitation is a peace offering.

“After everything, how can we not go,” she reasons.

So I hop into my dad’s car, surprised when Franny slides into the passenger seat, fastens his seat belt.

“Rita drove here, too. So I asked Jill if she’d mind riding over with her. Figured the girls ride with the girls and the guys with the guys.”

“Uh, okay,” I say.

“Besides, figured we should probably talk.”

“Yeah. Okay. Talking is good.”

We drive the first minutes in silence. Then Franny raps his knuckles against the window, tapping a made-up beat.

“How’s the band?” he asks finally.

I fiddle with the radio buttons but I don’t turn it on. I try to think of the right words. “Not the same without you.”

“Hmm,” he says.

“Listen, Franny . . . you . . . I—I’m sure this doesn’t come as a surprise, but I’ve always been jealous of you.”

“Say what?” Franny laughs.

“I’m serious. Before you and Jillian got together, I spent a month working up the courage to ask her out.”

“You never said anything.”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Franny, you stole my girlfriend’?”

“You should’ve said something. You know, before I got super into her.”

“Maybe,” I admit. “I guess I was hoping I’d just get over it.”

“But then you didn’t. Instead you pull a punk-ass move and betray your supposed best friend.”

“I couldn’t even figure out why you wanted Jillian. You could have anyone.”

“If you couldn’t figure that out, then maybe you’re the one who doesn’t deserve her.”