Opposite of Always(88)

He’s right. Here I am pretending as though I’m the only one in the world who can see how awesome of a person Jillian is, as if I have the Jillian Is a Spectacular Human Being patent, never once considering that Franny sees it just as clearly. The whole time I’ve told myself no one understands the connection that Jillian and I have, how we click. But maybe Franny felt the same.

“And as if the Jillian thing isn’t bad enough, then you start hanging out with The Coupon behind my back. What’s that about, man? Other than using him to make you money?”

“Uh, just, you know, I heard he’d gotten released and, uh, I don’t know, I guess I was hoping to help you—”

“You mean help yourself. Everything you do is for you, man. Stop lying to yourself.”

“I wanted him to know how awesome you are, in spite of him. That he was crazy to waste time away from you all these years. That you deserve so much better, Franny.”

“Just stay away from my family.”

“Franny, I wasn’t trying to . . .” And I don’t know how to finish that sentence. What is it that I wasn’t trying to do? Ruin our friendship? Make him miserable? Because I probably could have done a lot better job of not doing that stuff.

“And you can kill all the Franny talk, okay. It’s Francisco to you, man.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I could’ve killed you, after the stunt you pulled, man. But I didn’t. I should’ve at least messed you up a bit. But . . . I don’t know . . . I guess I’m a sucker for loyalty. So I gave you a pass on that. But you’re out of passes, kid. You keep screwing with business that doesn’t have anything to do with you and I’m going to have to do what I have to do, you get me?”

I nod. “I understand.”

“You better.”

“I’m sorry, Frann . . . Francisco. I’m really sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You feel guilty. Learn the difference.”

“I am sorry. Guilty, too, I guess.”

“The whole basketball team wanted to jump your punk ass, but I put a stop to that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” I pause longer than normal at a stop sign, so I can face him. So I can really hear him.

“Nothing you can say.” He unlocks his door, slides out into the cool night.

“Where are you going, man? We still have another five or six blocks.”

Franny shrugs. “Feel like walking. Only so much bullshit I can stomach in one night.”

“Franny, why did you even get in the car if you hate me so much?”

Franny shrugs. “I thought maybe we had something worth salvaging, you know, after a lifetime of friendship, but I was wrong, clearly.”

“Come on. I get it. And everything you’ve said is true. Just let me drive you to this party and then . . . if you never want to talk to me again . . . okay . . . I wish . . . I just have to accept that.”

Franny leans into the open passenger door and makes a face that I’ve seen before, usually right before he punches someone into the next galaxy. “You say you were jealous of me, Jack. You jealous of me? When you have, like, literally everything. Parents who actually care about you, and who have been around your whole life, a nice house in a safe neighborhood, food on the table that you didn’t have to figure out how to scrape together, more clothes than you can count. Literally, a bag full of money. And I have, what? Man, I don’t even know. But at least I had you. A best friend who made the world a little less cold, you know. And then I get lucky, and I get someone else good in my life . . . Jillian . . . and she makes everything bearable, everything better . . . and you took her from me the same way everyone has taken every good thing away from me . . . and the worst part is . . . I never would’ve done that to you. Never. Far as I was concerned, you and me were brothers, man. But I guess that was a lie, because brothers wouldn’t do that to each other.”

And I sit there at the stop sign, waiting for him to turn around, waiting for him to reconsider, but he’s not coming back. He pulls his hoodie over his head and keeps walking.

I take my time getting to the party. Figure it’s best to give Franny time to cool off. Figure if I drive around long enough maybe I’ll come up with a way to make him not hate me so much. Only when I get there, he hasn’t made it yet.

“Where’s Franny?” I ask Rita.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she says. “He’s not answering his phone.” I can see the worry in her face. Jillian’s, too.

I want to say something comforting, but in the end I don’t remember if I even say anything at all. Which is just as well, because I probably would’ve said something stupid like, I’m sure he’s okay.

Which isn’t true.

Franny never shows up to the party.

Turns out he took a shortcut that, in the end, wasn’t so short.





Worst Thing Ever


We get the news as the party is fading.

This kid Mike Whitney turns down the music, stands on a couch, and tells everyone to shut the hell up, before he makes the announcement.

“Francisco’s been shot!”

The emergency room waiting area is full of sad people, but it feels like we’re the saddest. Abuela comes bounding through the sliding doors, out of breath and hysterical, and the three of us do our best to settle her down. My parents show up a little later and talk to the police about what happened.