Francine & Earl

Join: Part I

Earl had just stepped foot onto Dempsey High property when his phone rang. It vibrated in his pocket, the loud ringtone drawing the tired and annoyed gazes of teenagers who hated Mondays. Mondays meant work, tests, and seeing people you wish forgot your existence over the weekend.

Murmuring an apology to a girl who shot him an especially nasty look, he fumbled with the device only to drop it on the ground. He was almost thankful for the partially green grass that was littered with cigarette butts and candy wrappers, because the concrete of the walkway would not have been forgiving. But, by the time he had his phone flipped open, the caller had gave up. He only hoped that it wasn't his brother, who constantly bullied him into doing his math homework. His sibling was as unavoidable as he was stupid, just passing by the skin of his teeth and proficient skills in soccer.

He sighed as he redialed, hoping that he had enough minutes to tide him over. Earl's family wasn't as unfortunate as most would perceive, but they were frugal. When his mother up and left, cleaning out his parent's joint savings account, he guessed that it was the smartest move. The fact that his college fund was wiped out so his mother could go abroad and become a model so she could "hang with the big boys" as she used to say, just had propelled him harder.

Yet, it didn't hurt any less.

The phone began to vibrate in his hand while he was retyping in the last digit, shocking him out of his thoughts and causing him to stop abruptly in his stride. The person behind him stumbled, and they both came crashing down, his ancient phone skidding away from him.

"We have got to stop meeting like this."

Groaning, Earl struggled to sit up, the weight of his backpack almost dragging him back down onto the asphalt. Passing students just shot him curious glances as they stepped over him, and he felt like groaning again when the faint sound of the late bell reached his ears. Reaching out to grab his phone, Earl pushed to his feet, only to come face to chest with the girl he was trying to call back.

"Frannie?" he questioned, taking note of her appearance. Despite the few stray blades of grass that somehow clung to the bottom of her dress, she seemed utterly unscathed from their second collision so far. She nodded, giving him a bright closed lip smile, reaching down to pluck the grass from the blue fabric.

"So, what do you think?" she asked, and then spun herself around in a circle. Pretending as if he was deep in thought, Earl tugged at an imaginary beard on his chin.

"I think . . . you look beautiful. But, you still look this beautiful all the time."

Rolling her eyes, Francine pulled the jacket closer to her. In Jonathon's rush to drag her out her house, she left her thicker coat at home. Despite the fact she guilt tripped him into letting her wear his "baby," otherwise known as his leather jacket, the cold autumn air was not meshing well with the thin material and her bare legs. She began to walk to the school building, hands swinging at her sides, knowing Earl would follow. The sound of his quick footsteps as he tried to match his short stride with hers reinforced it.

"No, seriously. You look a lot less tortured than I imagined, though."

No knowing quite how to respond, Francine kept silent and listened to her companion prattle on about how his first teacher was going to skin him alive for being late to class again. She had never really been called beautiful before; her mother referred to her as cute when she was younger. Her and her father had a running gag to nickname each other with disgusting things (she was stinkweed, and he was lab rat) but they never took it personally. Jonathon called her beautiful often, mostly just to catch her off guard, but she knew that it was just his obligation of being her best friend to boost up her confidence. And now, Earl, someone she thought of as a relative stranger only a week ago, was telling her that, hey, she's not that bad to look at.