Chapter 5 : Meetings
Mark. Shit. Millions of people in New York, and I had to bump into Mark. But then realization hit me. He’s British?
“No, no. It’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Mark said.
“Ok, fine. It’s your fault.” I really needed to get away, by all means necessary, even if it means letting someone else win the fight. “I really need to get going.”
“Because you admitted it really was my fault, why don’t I buy you something to eat? Me and my friends having lunch right now. At least let me make it up to you.”
“N-no, you really don’t have to. I’m fine!” I insisted, but he wouldn’t let it drop. What the hell is wrong with Mark, he isn’t normally like this. After a couple of minutes, I gave up, and let him lift me back onto my feet.
“I’m Mark, by the way,” He said, as we started walking over the table where our suitemates—and unfortunately Kiana—were.
“Franchesca,” I said, sticking out my hand. He shook it with a firm grip, and before I knew it, we were standing next to the booth where the people I see—but aren’t supposed to know right then—everyday are sitting.
“Hey, guys,” Mark told them. He gestured towards me. “This is Franchesca.” I gave a little wave with my right hand. My left was, still awkwardly in my back pocket. “I bumped into her, and I’m buying her dinner for it. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all,” Derek told Mark while giving me an odd look. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Do I know from somewhere? You look awfully familiar.” I panicked, but I kept my face neutral.
“No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” I lied.
“Well then, do you know someone named Frank?” He asked. Damn, he sees it.
“No, I don’t,” I lied. Again.
“Ok. Anyway, the name’s Derek.” Thank God in heaven above that he didn’t press on further.
“Babe, I need to go.” Kiana announced. Everyone looked at her.
“Ok.” Mark shrugged. She stood up and walked over to him and gave him a French kiss whilst looking at me. Idiot thinks I’ll take her man. Idiot doesn’t know I live with him. I just rolled my eyes. She saw this, and Kiana broke from Mark and walked off, hitting me hard in the shoulder. I barely felt it. I always get hit hard by the guys in P.E. No one saw this gesture. No one but Anthony, who merely raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word about it. Paul stood up.
“Hi, I’m Paul,” He said. I wanted to laugh—it reminded me of the gorilla at the end of every Jimmy Neutron episode—but I was able to keep my cool. Paul stuck out his hand, and I shook it with a smile on my face. Mark sat down next to Paul, occupying the seat that Kiana sat on earlier. He squished Paul to the side, and offered me the space next to him. I sat down, and everyone else introduced themselves to me. Again.
“I’m Anthony,” Anthony said from across me. He, like Paul, stuck out his hand, so I shook it.
“Derek.” Derek stuck out his hand. I shook it. I honestly don’t get what’s up with them. They don’t normally shake people’s hands.
“So, Franchesca, you have a boyfriend?” Paul asked. I gave out a little laugh at this one.
“Dude!” Mark scolded him. Then he turned to me. “Let’s go get something to eat, Franchesca. All these steaks on the table are making my mouth water.” Everyone laughed, and the boys continued eating their steaks while I stood up. Mark stood up as well, and started to lead me towards one of the stores. I turned my head around.
“And, Paul? No, I don’t,” I told Paul.
“So, what do you want? Salad, perhaps?” Mark asked, once we got to the counter.
“Salad? Seriously? Uh, no,” I told him in a disgusted tone. I turned to the person over the counter. “I’ll have the beef ribs, please.” Mark looked at me like I was outta my mind.
“I’ll have the same as the lady,” He said, still looking at me. “You eat ribs?”
“I love ribs.”
“And you still keep your figure?” I looked down self-consciously.
“Um, I, uh, I’m pretty sure I don’t have a figure.” It’s true. I don’t have my mom’s boobs or her bod.
“What do you mean? Everyone has a figure. Most women are conscious about their weight, and how they look. Don’t you?”
“No, I’m not ‘Most Women’.”
“Well then, for someone who doesn’t, you look incredibly hot. Women around the world must admire you.” I blushed, but thankfully, the food came, and Mark didn’t see it. He might be a jerk to ‘Frank’, but looks like he digs Franchesca. Unfortunately for him, Frank knows who he really is: A stuck up asshole. He probably charms every girl to get into her pants.
The rest of lunch went uneventfully, just a bunch of talking and what-not. Eventually though, I had to leave, since ‘Frank’ is meeting them at four by the bus stop. Which means I have to change and find a way to stuff all my things inside the single backpack I brought. And I only have an hour.
“Hey guys, it was nice meeting you and all, but I have really have to get going.”
“Aw, common Franchesca, a little while more? Your, like, the best girl we’ve ever had in this group.” Derek whined. Mark nudged him. Paul saw this.
“Man, your girlfriend sucks. None of us even like her. She’s a blonde bitch that only eats salad. This,” He pointed to me, “This girl is the real deal. Doesn’t care about her weight, and eats more ribs than Kiana will ever have in a lifetime. Every single woman on this planet should model their selves on Franchesca, not Kiana and her idol… What’s her name?”
“Vanessa Graham,” Mark answered. My eyes grew wide, and I swallowed hard at the sound of my mother’s name. Shit.
“Yeah, that’s her name,” Paul said happily. Then he had a serious face on in a blink of an eye. “Bottom line is, she’s better than your girlfriend, dude. We like her. Which means she’s the best girl we’ve had in this group.”
“Dude, she’s your cousin!” Mark retorted.
“Yeah, my, like, third cousin or something. I don’t care. She’s still the Blonde Bitch,” Paul answered with a shrug. I, on the other hand, was flabbergasted.
“She’s your cousin?!” I asked him. He just shrugged. Then I remembered: I have to go, pronto. “Anyway. I’ll see you guys around?” I stood up.
“Yeah, I guess,” Anthony said. Then Paul seemed to remember something.
“Oh, yeah! Give us your number, by the way. There’s a school party we want to invite you to, but we’re not sure when it is yet. We want you to meet a friend of ours,” Derek added. I know what who the ‘friend’ is; it’s Frank. I’m sure of it. But I found myself writing my number on a paper napkin and handing it to him. Why I did it? I had no idea.
YOU ARE READING
Double Identity
Teen Fiction“That was marvelous!” He said. “Great job, Frank. Or, should I say, Franchesca?” I took a deep breath. A very, very deep breath. “Oh my God,” Was the most intelligent thing I could say. “’Oh my God’ is correct. How long have you been lying to us?” “...
