Lead Me Astray - Updated Every Monday

Chapter Seventeen ~ Frankie

I was on a high from last night's victory. I had a column to write when I came back from the game and the subsequent McDonald's run with Stacey. Mr. Cummings, the newspaper advisor, wanted me to run the advice column and also the lunch schedule. I didn't get why that one, let alone two completely separate works but he said my piece on Annabelle Lee was inspired and steeped in a flaired love. That didn't even make sense to me but he was the advisor and it was what he wanted.

I'd gotten plenty of emails seeking advice and I had the week's lunch schedule but we already knew what was for lunch this week as per the paper from Monday. So I put my own spin on it. It was boring so I had to. To wake myself up enough to write the damn thing.

Tomorrow was Thursday so that meant we only had two more days of lunches and they were hamburgers and hotdogs for Thursday and spaghetti for Friday. I usually loved spaghetti, being a huge pasta freak, but school spaghetti was a travesty. And although the hamburgers weren't bad (weren't great either), they were leaps and bounds better than ANY damn hotdog.

But I couldn't say that so I jazzed it up. Spoke about condiments and sides and how to make it a meal worth eating when it truly wasn't. And as a last ditch effort, I said how it beat prison food...

With that done and sent in, I turned to the advice emails. There were about nine total so I picked three that I could ramble on about to fill my slot. The first was an actual real life issue. The OP shared a room with a nosy little sister that continued to read her diary.

I advised them to get a sturdy lock for their diary (if permissible) then explain privacy as best they could to the little crotch goblin for their age and when all else failed, remind them that most parents slept hard and couldn't hear torture through their heavy duty child induced snoring.

The second email was from a boy who wanted to ask a girl to the Autumn Dance but was scared to be rejected. I wrote that that was a valid fear but nothing ventured, nothing gained. If you want the worth, you had to put in the work. The worst a decent person could say was no and if she did, his world would dim a bit but not shatter. He was strong enough to look rejection in the face and say, "Now what? I'm still here." and that would attract someone who did want him back. But I was totally hoping she said yes.

The final email I chose was tricky. The sender was female and had a crush on another female student. They weren't out yet at home but was deeply in infatuation with this other girl. As a (semi)closeted queer myself, I knew I had to be careful. I said for her to seek safe spaces so she'd always be supported no matter who she was dating then put out feelers to see how her family would respond to her coming out. At the same time, put out feelers to see if the girl in question was even into girls because why implode your life over a straight girl? Once those things were figured out, either come out and/or ask the girl out or take steps to become safe enough to be able to date whomever the fuck she wanted. I said how I hoped everything went well and linked the Trevor Project before adding that I could totally give dating tips once the "digits [were] secured".

I wrapped it up and sent in my tagline (I Frankly Don't Give a-) and my byline (Keeping it Frank with Frankie), which I thought were cute, and hurried to get ready for bed, already feeling my lack of sleep.

≠

I woke up Thursday morning and went through my routine but tried to hurry at least a bit because Stacey was picking me up. I finished and grabbed another Cool Blue on my way out the door, skipping the apple because I still (somehow) had slices left from Hunter.

Momma stopped me on my way out the door. "Frankie."

"I'm not calling him." I stepped onto the porch.

"Why not?"