"Come on Frenchie, show some durability," Taylor said, smiling. It was later on in the day, and somehow Taylor had convinced Fran to get back on her skates. Tyler was half dead the entire day so he was inside sleeping. Fran had a feeling he just wanted to be alone for a while. He seemed a bit distant, but that was rather normal lately.
"Taylor, I don�t want to make a fool outta myself in front of you."
"Too late." She smacked him. "You said you made a breakthrough this morning, show me what you can do." Carefully holding onto his hand, she skated around him. Her balance was coming back quickly, and her legs were stronger. When she was in front of him again, Taylor grabbed her around the waist. "See, you still got it."
"I�m getting there," she said with a smile. He kissed her, then picked her up and rested her on the grass. "You�re so sweet to me."
"Of course, it�s what I have to do." She rested her head against his chest, gazing up at the setting sun. "It�s what I want to do. You deserve it, you�ve had a hard life." Taylor gazed down at her. She was watching the sunset, enjoying the moment there with him. He hated to break the beautiful mood, but he knew he had to. "Frenchie?"
"Hmm?"
"I was talking to Tyler and he mentioned something about you getting some psychiatric help�" Fran sat up and turned to him. Before she could say anything, he put his fingers over her lips. "I know you don�t want to go through with it, but Frenchie I think you should."
"No!" Fran yelled. "You�re just with him and Coach! I don�t need help, there�s nothing wrong with me. Of course there�s things going on with my life, but look at Tyler. His sister died when my father died, Kyle affected him just as much as it did you and me, and he�s just as worried over me as I am over him. Don�t look at me without thinking about him."
"French, honey, listen to me. It affects him too but he shows it. You�ve been bundling up your emotions since your father died. I love you with all my heart and I want to see you getting better."
"What the fuck is wrong with me now?" Fran screamed, jumping up. "I thought you were different from them, Taylor! I thought you�d understand me more than they do. Obviously you don�t. Obviously you don�t know me at all!" Unbeknownst to her, she skated away, jumping over the step that lead into the garage and towards the door, flawlessly.
Taylor immediately got up to go after her, but the scene stopped him dead in his tracks. "Frenchie! What the hell did you just do?" She stopped at the door, and turned back to him. "You just skated from here to there and jumped over the step!" Fran looked down at her skates and the scene before her and her eyes grew.
"Oh my God!" Taylor hurried over and hugged her. "I have no idea how I did that!"
"You were upset. You didn�t even think about it." She couldn�t take the smile from her face and completely forgot about how upset she was at Taylor. It still bothered her that he would agree with everyone else, but this meant she�d be able to be back on the ice soon.
"Let�s go around the neighborhood and annoy people." Taylor smiled. "I�ll go get Tyler, he�s got to see this." She disappeared into the house only to come back a few minutes later with Tyler. The three headed off down the street, Fran jumping over the curb a few times, exhilarated by the entire ordeal.
The first person they had to annoy was, of course, Diana. Walker wasn�t at all fun to annoy because he always got angry. Diana would most likely get angry now but Fran could care less. When they got to Taylor�s house, the sun had set. The three skated inside, forgetting about the rule of no skating in the house, and made their way to the kitchen.
"What have I told you about skating in the house?" she immediately said. Fran scratched her head and looked at the other two. Of course the knew about it, they just didn�t want to abide by it. The best way was to act like it never existed. Taylor and Tyler shrugged. Something clicked in Diana�s memory. "What have you kids been doing outside by yourselves with the sun down?"
"Skating," Fran said. "And by which you haven�t noticed that I�m skating. It�s not like I�ve been able to for the past six months." Diana smiled at her, then continued.
"There�s a killer at large out there, and there�s crazy people. I don�t want you leaving the house. You three are staying here tonight. I�ll call your father, Tyler. Now go upstairs and take the skates off."
"There�s always a killer at large," Taylor muttered. "If it was up to her then we�d never leave." They headed up to Taylor�s room where Zac was typing away at the computer. Fran smacked the back of his head on the way to sitting down on Taylor�s bed.
"What the hell? Will you ever leave me alone?"
"As long as you�re younger than me, Zac," Fran said, "I�ll be picking on you." He gave her a look and went back to the computer. "So what are we supposed to do now? I wanted to torture people and we�re not allowed to leave the house."
"How am I supposed to know? Do I live here?" Tyler commented, seeing that Fran was looking in his direction. Zac snickered. "What was that you little fruit?" Tyler meant it in the nicest way possible. Fran laughed.
"You practically live here. You and Fran. I�m surprised we haven�t added more rooms for you two."
"Well sorry if we like it here," Fran said, smiling. "You�ve never complained before, don�t start now." Zac rolled his eyes and remained silent the rest of the conversation. "So, as I was saying before, what are we supposed to do now? We can�t skate, we can�t go outside�" Taylor only shrugged and leaned against the wall.
The trio ended up watching TV, and were settled on the news. Apparently there really was a killer at large. "You may remember him from four years ago," the broadcaster was saying, "in the double murders of Andrew Carlston and Tracy Curtis." Fran gasped and glanced at Tyler. He was staring intently at the television screen. She wasn�t able to identify the expression on his face, but she knew exactly how he was feeling.
The mention of the man who killed her father brought tore open old wounds that Fran didn�t know how to handle. She leaned against the wall, still sitting on Taylor�s bed, and let out a deep breath. Neither of the two guys noticed. Tyler was in a world of his own, not quite just staring at the TV anymore. Taylor was too much in shock and feeling rather uneasy about the entire situation. The room had fallen into a dead silence, the television now shut off.
Diana walked into the room to announce dinner and wasn�t prepared for the scene. Taylor was the only one who acknowledged her. Tyler was still in his own world, most likely thinking of his sister, and Fran was fighting back tears and every emotion that soared through her at that point. Taylor walked over to his mother and took her out of the room before explaining.
"That killer at large you were talking about�"
"There�s no killer out there, you know I just don�t like you outside when it�s dark out by yourself." Taylor shook his head.
"There is! The worst part about it all is that it�s the guy who killed Fran�s dad and Tyler�s sister. They�re in their own worlds now, I don�t know what to do with them." Diana glanced back in the room. Fran had switched positions, her face hidden in her knees with her arms on top of her knees. Tyler hadn�t moved.
"Come down for dinner. If they come out of that, then they can come down later. Don�t bother them." Taylor looked back into the bedroom. Zac had left earlier, and now the room was dark, a small light coming from the corner. The two looked dead, so much it scared him.
It was around twenty minutes when Fran finally snapped back into her own reality. She looked around, her eyes finally resting on Tyler. He was sitting on the floor, looking out into nothing. "Tyler?" He didn�t move. She got up and sat in front of him. He stared right through her. "Tyler!" She snapped her fingers in front of his face.
His head bounced back, hitting against the wall. He looked at Fran. "What? When�d the room get this dark?"
"I don�t know, I just looked up and there was nobody around and the room was dark. Taylor must be downstairs eating dinner or something. I guess we must of went into a trance or something because of that broadcast." Tyler sighed, tears filling his eyes.
"Please don�t bring it up."
Showing a small sign of comfort, Fran took his hand. "It hurts me just as much as it hurts you. I loved my father and I loved Tracy. I loved Kyle. We�re going to get through this, you hear me?"
"I don�t know."
"Tyler, we will get through this." She affectionately rubbed his hand. "I�m hungry. Let�s go downstairs?" Tyler nodded, and followed her out of the room.
"Hello, I�m Dr. Brooks. You can just call me Jeanne if you want to," said the woman in the office. "You must be Fran." Fran shook her hand, and looked her over. The woman looked to be in her mid-thirties, wearing jeans and a shirt. She certainly did not look like the psychiatrist Fran had expected.
"Hi. Are you really a doctor? You really don�t look like one." Jeanne just shrugged her shoulders and took a seat. Fran sat across from her before pulling her knees to her chest and gripping her feet. "I really don�t know what to say to you, so why don�t you start?"
"Alright. Tell me about yourself. What you like to do, where you go to school, who your friends are." Fran collected her thoughts while looking out of the window. After she figured what she was going to say, she looked back to Jeanne.
"I�m Frances Marie Carlston. I just finished eighth grade at Booker Middle School. Basically when I�m not in school or sleeping I�m at the hockey rink playing or practicing. I play hockey all the time. My comeback game is tomorrow. I broke my ankle and ripped a tendon back in November, and just recently I�ve been good enough to go back to the practices."
"Have you been playing hockey a long time?"
"Ten years." Jeanne wrote that down. "My best friends are Tyler Curtis, a guy on my team, and Taylor Hanson." Jeanne looked up. Taylor and his brothers had burst into the musical scene full force just the past few weeks. It was early June now, and she was happy for him. It took Coach Curtis that long to convince her to go see a psychiatrist.
"Do you see him often?" Fran shook her head. Jeanne wrote that down too. There was a long pause. "How long have you been friends with him?"
"About four and a half years." When Jeanne finished scribbling on her notepad, Fran looked away and back out the window. It was a hot day, but it was cool in the building. The day was beautiful, with the clear blue sky and shining sun glistening over the top of the buildings in downtown Tulsa. Fran bit her lip.
"How about your parents?" Fran looked back over to Jeanne.
"My mother�s often away on business trips. I normally stay with Tyler�s father or Taylor. Since Taylor isn�t around as much as he used to, I�m often at Tyler�s. Actually, that�s where I�m staying now. My mother�s in Spain for the next week."
"And what about your father?" Fran looked away.
"He died. Around the same time I met Taylor. He was murdered, along with Tyler�s sister." Jeanne nodded. Fran got sick of that. "I try not to think about it, though." Jeanne grabbed a chart from the table and looked through it. There was dead silence until she decided she wanted to ask something else.
"It says here that your other best friend, Kyle, died. What happened to him?" Damn, you just have no consideration for the dead, do you? Fran thought, before looking over at the woman. She was becoming too professional for Fran. Her first impression was nice, but now she�s just doing her job.
"He was in a car accident back in March. Just to save you some voice, I was in the car. So was Taylor and Tyler. It was after my birthday party and he ran a red light. Taylor, Tyler and I weren�t hurt, but he died on the scene." Jeanne picked up her recorder and checked the tape, making sure it was on and running well. Fran figured this was important.
"How did that affect you?" Jeanne asked, setting the tape recorder back down. "With the murder and the sudden accident." Fran�s eyes set on the clock. She stayed silent for a few seconds. There was still a half an hour left, so she couldn�t avoid the question. But somewhere inside she felt like she had to.
"I�d rather not talk about that right now," she said, and tucked a piece of her long blonde hair behind her ear. Over the course of the three months, she�d changed in a great amount. With Taylor gone all of the time, she often stayed to herself. She drew herself into seclusion, often staying in her room. Isaac had taught her to play the guitar, and it was often when beautiful yet sad music could be heard from her room. The stiffness and the hidden emotions came back full swing. Now no one saw her emotions.
The last time she had talked to Taylor was back in April, a few days after he left. Even then she didn�t tell him how she felt, or how she was. Her practices were so impersonal. She barely checked anyone anymore, she wasn�t as violent, and she quit hogging the puck.
"That�s alright, we can talk about it next week. Are you excited about going back to your hockey?" Fran looked up, her hair falling into her face. She tossed it aside with a swing of her head, her eyes penetrating Jeanne�s strong surface. The blankness in Fran�s blue eyes was enough to send anyone into depression.
"I guess. I haven�t really thought much about it. Hockey is second nature to me. Even though I haven�t played in months I still feel exactly the same about it all." Jeanne�s eyes ran over her notes.
"Did it hurt you when your father died? Or when Kyle died?"
"I don�t want to talk about it." Her voice was monotone, completely boring. This time Jeanne looked at the clock to see how much time was left. She was running out of questions and Fran wasn�t answering any of the ones she had. The girl had a definite opening up problem. She wasn�t about to mention any kind of pain, and she knew it.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Nothing." Fran�s eyes gazed over to Jeanne�s desk. She had many pictures spread out, and one was of a boy, most likely her son. He looked a lot like Kyle. Tears welled up, but Fran refused to let them show. She refused to let anything show anymore.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Fran nodded. "Mind telling me who?"
"Taylor. He�s my best friend and my boyfriend." Fran continued to stare at the picture of the boy who looked like Kyle. "Who�s that boy?" Fran pointed to the picture she was staring at. "Is that your son or something?" Jeanne nodded.
"Yes, that�s my son, Timothy. I don�t see much of him. He lives in Arizona with his father. We separated some time ago. This was about three years ago. He should be nineteen now." If he was nineteen then she had to be older than Fran thought. Or she could just be like Sally and had an early pregnancy.
"Do you miss him?"
Jeanne didn�t answer. Fran was well aware that she had heard the question, yet she remained reserved. Jeanne wasn�t about to talk about her son. "Maybe now you know why I don�t want to talk about my father." Jeanne looked to Fran. The coldness in her eyes was enough to make Jeanne realize that they had more in common than they thought. In that instant, the two connected on a personal basis. It would make this so much easier.
"You can go now," Jeanne whispered, barely audible. The woman seemed more of a child then, more of an equal to Fran than she had been before. Fran�s maturity was way beyond her years. It wasn�t right for a girl this age to have gone through this kind of pain. Fran got up and left, not even bothering to say goodbye. At the door she turned back to Jeanne. The woman was sitting much like Fran had when she first came in, looking out the window.
When Fran made her way through the office, she passed the receptionist�s desk. "Anna," Jeanne�s voice said through the small speaker. Fran stopped. "Please cancel the rest of the sessions for today. I�m going home early." Anna looked up at Fran, a questioning look on her face. Fran left quickly.
In the elevator, Fran looked at her ring. Taylor had promised to keep in touch. She hadn�t heard from him in the longest time, she nearly forgot what his voice sounded like. She wanted to be Frenchie again, but no one around dared call her that. Everyone knew that name was available to Taylor and only Taylor.
My promise to you is to keep in touch. If at any time in my career�however long or short that may be�if I don�t keep in touch and call whenever I can, I want you to give this back. If any doubt of how much I care about you is in question, I want you to give this back.
Fran looked over the ring. It was so beautiful. Taylor and Frenchie forever. How come that didn�t seem plausible anymore? She let out a sigh and scolded herself for ever thinking she could be in love at fourteen.