𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

17. meetings and meltdowns.

S E V E N T E E N
meetings and meltdowns.

A knock on my bedroom door makes me jump, I mumble a 'Yeah' to signify I'm not stark naked.

The door opens and my Mum slips inside, shutting it behind her. She looks tense, something's obviously bothering her, and that puts me on edge. I base so many of my reactions on her, as I have done ever since I was young. If she's on edge, so am I. If she's happy, I know things are okay. If she's angry, I'm worried.

Her perfectly manicured eyebrows knit together slightly as I watch her mind turn, trying to broach whatever topic is about to be brought up with a delicacy. It's obviously going to be sensitive.

"You're not with Rafe anymore, are you?" She asks, obviously double checking I wasn't stupid and got back together with him.

Rolling my lips between my teeth, I bite down on them, dreading where this conversation is headed. I shake my head, "No, I'm not." I answer.

She nods and walks to sit on my bed, one of her dainty hands smooth over the paisley covers I just changed. "Do you think Rafe would ever sabotage your father's job?" She asks.

My heart drops. "Yes. He threatened to a bunch of times–it was one of the things stopping me from breaking up with him in the first place. I felt responsible for his job," I refer to my father. "Dad mentioned the debt, and how if I stayed with Rafe he would likely get a raise and we could start paying it off."

"Frankie, there is no we. You don't have any responsibility for the debt, that debt has nothing to do with you. You're a teenager, you shouldn't be worrying about that," she asserts. "What I came in here to talk about is that Ward called for an urgent meeting with your father. He seems to think this may mean a raise—he doesn't know about your breakup, and I don't think it's wise for you to be here when he finds out."

I nod, "Yeah. That's probably not a good idea, I'll stay at a friend's." I stand up and grab my bag.

"I'll text you what happens, okay? It may just be a raise, or it could be anything, I'm just thinking it could be better for you not to be here when he finds out." She smiles and gets off the bed, walking over and kissing my forehead. "Make sure you keep in contact with me."

She slips out when my Dad shouts for her to iron his shirt.

I pack a change of clothes, some toiletries, chargers and my antidepressants. All a girl needs.

Heading out the door my Mum catches me at the bottom of the stairs, watching the yellow monstrosity roll up to the house. "Be careful," she says as she pinches my chin between her fingers and presses a kiss to my cheek.

"I'm always careful," I smile and shut the door behind me.

Running down the stairs my backpack jostles. I get an open-door service once I meet the van, I smile and thank Pope as I climb in—getting hit in the face by the stench of weed. Someone's obviously lighting up. And it can only be one person.

John B glances over his shoulder at me, "You good?" He asks, eyeing my bag.

I nod, "Yeah, I think my Dad's getting fired and I shouldn't be near him when that happens, so can I crash at yours—at least for tonight?" I ask, hoping I can stay there, mostly for convenience, I get there every day anyway, but either that or I stay at my brother's. Which would probably be nicer.

He nods and gives me a smile through the rearview mirror, turning over the key for the engine and it splutters back to life; it doesn't sound healthy in the slightest. "Of course, you can, Frankie. Anytime, you don't have to ask."

I thank him and clip myself into the car, an anxious bubble brews in the pit of my stomach. My pretence of everything being okay with my family; of all of the shit happening sliding off my back as I keep it moving, it's wearing thin. I'm going to snap, and it's not going to be pretty. But right now I need to focus on the plan.