Page 14 of Summer Breakdown (Training Seasons #2)

“We came to check how many steps we had to walk up,” Jasmine says, looking at how those steps they’d been planning for no longer exist instead of Frankie.

“We like to be prepared, but maybe I’m remembering it wrong.

” She pulls her lip between her teeth. The entire time she was here before, she’d been vibrating with annoyance and possibly hallucinating to make the place look worse.

She looks at Frankie, who blushes. Jasmine tries not to kick her in the shin.

“Oh,” Frankie says, her hand in her pocket. The sun is in Jasmine’s eyes, which is why she’s frowning at her. Frankie moves slightly until she blocks it from Jasmine’s view, and now she’s glaring at her for other reasons. “Well, it’s not ready yet, but it will be by game day. Do you like it?”

“Are you stalking me?” Ezra asks. He’s still ridiculously sized, but he has thrown a T-shirt on.

“Yes,” Lani replies, and Ezra laughs loudly. Lani asks, “You okay? What are you doing?”

Ezra smiles. Jasmine thinks he smiles. It might be a tick. “Fixing the path. Why aren’t you at school?”

“I’m too clever,” she replies. “They said I didn’t need to go. ”

Frankie laughs quietly. Jasmine only notices because she hasn’t stopped looking at her.

“And I’m only four,” Lani says.

“Loser,” Ezra replies, and Lani cackles.

When her shoulders have stopped moving with laughter, she asks, “Are you busy, or can you push me around the grass?”

Ezra hums. “How about you come help me?”

“I’m already tired,” she replies.

Ezra shrugs. “Okay, but it means I can’t hook the grass seed to the back of your chair and run you around the field.”

Lani squeals, bouncing in her chair. “I want to do that! Yes, please.” Then she looks over, remembering she came here with Jasmine and she’s abandoning her. “Mama, please, can I go?”

“Yeah, baby.”

Jasmine watches Ezra push her, but Lani could have wheeled herself. It’s a perfectly angled path. Well, it’s mud right now, but Jasmine assumes that’s what the concrete is for.

“There were steps here, right?” Jasmine asks, before she can realise it’s just her and Frankie. She should have walked away. Still, she turns to look at her under the guise of looking for Lani, but Frankie is already looking at right her. She’s been caught, but Frankie doesn’t call her out on it.

Instead, she blinks, looking at the ground, the seats, anywhere but Jasmine.

“There were steps,” Frankie says, her hands in her pockets, pushing her shoulders up.

It makes her trousers bag at the waist, and Jasmine sees a flash of underwear.

It’s unfair how hot she is for her. Mali is beautiful.

Why can’t she have these thoughts about Mali?

“But Ezra said Lani was going to train, and she’ll need to get on the field from this side. ”

“Oh. She can walk.”

Frankie shrugs. “What if she needs her chair, or she wants it? We should have done it ages ago anyway. We didn’t build this place, and it’s not something I had to think about, even though realising that now makes me feel gross.”

“Oh.” She made the path for her. Well, for Lani. Her heart thumps too recklessly. Jasmine needs Frankie to do something rude. Walk away mid-conversation or speak to her in a tone. Anything so the way she wants to feel about her is justified.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Jasmine stands on her tiptoes, trying to see Lani. Ezra seems trustworthy, but she doesn’t actually know him well, and she likes to be able to see Lani regardless. Frankie taps her own thigh a few times, then says, “Uhm, I had a question too.”

Jasmine stands flat again and waits for her to tell her, but Frankie just looks at her, her eyes a little wide.

“Are you going to ask me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Another moment passes. “Frank?”

“Sorry.”

Jasmine tilts her head. “Tell me something.”

Frankie blinks, her face passive, like she has no idea what Jasmine’s talking about.

Perhaps the research Jasmine has done is correct and Frankie’s memory goes sometimes.

It’s not exactly what the books said, just that people with depression sometimes have difficulty remembering things.

Jasmine doesn’t know exactly how it works, and she’s not planning on asking Frankie.

She is trying to let that night go, though. Frankie clearly doesn’t think about it. Jasmine’s the only one hurt by holding on to it. She’s not the Antichrist; she’s just a woman Jasmine has an obscene crush on who doesn’t want to kiss her. That’s okay.

“Do you want to sit down?” Frankie asks. “If we go on the seats, you can see Lani.”

“Okay,” Jasmine replies. “Thanks.” Jasmine steps lightly over the soil and finds the first chair. Frankie holds on to her wrist as she goes to sit down, and a shock jolts through Jasmine’s body. Frankie can’t have felt it; she doesn’t let her go.

“Sweetheart, wait,” she says, and Jasmine stands stock-still at the use of sweetheart. Frankie likes babe. Jasmine has been patiently waiting for her to call her babe.

“It’ll be too hot.” Frankie grabs a sweater from a pile of things on the seats. It says COACH on it, so Jasmine assumes it’s hers. She fans it out, making sure the entire seat is covered, all while holding on to Jasmine’s wrist.

The material is soft against her thighs when she sits down, and she makes a mental note to wear trousers next time she comes, or bring a blanket to sit on.

“Uh, so, I bought some wheels. They said they were universal,” Frankie says, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

It buzzes as she holds it, but she moves the notification away.

She taps away and then turns the screen so Jasmine can see large off-road yellow wheelchair wheels.

“I was going to get a chair too, but I wanted to check with you first if it was correct, and you haven’t posted a story in days. ”

“What are they for?” she asks. The wheels are great. Lani will want them so bad. Jasmine might have to copy Frankie and get some. “Wait, why does it matter I haven’t posted?”

Frankie looks at her like she has something growing from her face. Her phone buzzes again, and Frankie ignores it.

“I use them to talk to you,” she says, with a blush that Jasmine tries to ignore. Frankie could kill her, she thinks—her arms are strong enough that she could kill her—and Jasmine thinks she looks like a fairy. She wants to pick her up and put her in her pocket.

“Why don’t you just message me?”

Frankie’s entire face drops, as if Jasmine had asked her for nuclear codes or something.

“Message someone out of the blue? Are you joking? ”

“It’s not a cold call,” Jasmine says, as she makes a note to look for yellow wheels for Lani. It’s a real note this time. Jasmine looks up at her once, and Frankie chews on her lip. “It’s just ‘Hi, I’m being sweet and buying wheels, please help me.’”

“Well,” Frankie replies, her cheeks red. Might be the sun, might be the digging, might be the casual use of sweet. She sits next to her. Jasmine hadn’t invited her to either. She’s so rude. “The kit colour is yellow and green. If you want, I can find a green chair.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you buy a new chair?” Jasmine asks. “Is someone else disabled? Or is it just in case?”

“It’s for Lani,” she replies, with a frown. As if they can’t see and hear Lani’s squeals at being pushed around the field with ease right now.

“I wouldn’t expect you to provide a chair so she can join in,” Frankie says casually. As if Jasmine isn’t used to providing everything Lani needs. “The training kits are included in the costs.”

“They’re significantly cheaper than a wheelchair.”

Frankie frowns. “We said Lani can play, and she can. So, we’ll have what she needs.”

“Oh.” Frankie’s phone goes off again. “Your phone buzzes a lot,” Jasmine says.

“Yeah,” Frankie replies. She loves a one-word answer. Jasmine tries not to take offence. But then Frankie spins her phone to show her screen again. It’s a calendar and has, like, twenty things per day. There are so many entries that Jasmine can’t even focus on one for long enough to read it.

Jasmine is overwhelmed just looking at it. “I didn’t realise you needed such a strict schedule.”

Frankie hums. “It probably doesn’t need to be this intense, but it does help. ”

“I think if I even had to figure out that many things to do in a day, I’d be bonetired.”

“I am pretty tired,” Frankie says, with a small laugh. “I forget how tired because it’s there all the time, you know?”

“Not really,” Jasmine says, “but it does sound like a lot. Is there anything we can do?”

“What do you mean?”

Jasmine shrugs. “I don’t know, like, I can message you to remind you about training, or, I don’t know. I just wanted to help, but it’s silly.”

“It’s not,” Frankie replies, with a smile. “I’m a very anxious person.” Jasmine waits for her to say something else, but she doesn’t. It’s left floating in the air, like she just wanted Jasmine to know.

Elaborate on your thoughts. Tell me your darkest desires. But don’t look at me.

“Is that why you only talk to me if I post something?” Jasmine asks.

Frankie groans. “I said hello the other day.”

“When?”

“In a dream or something,” she says. “Still counts.”

Jasmine smiles despite herself. Frankie’s sweet, and anxious, and bipolar.

It’s still not enough. Frankie could have spoken to her.

They’ve seen each other twice now. It’s clear they’re going to see each other again—with Marcel and Lani both training here—and Jasmine is still in the dark.

Frankie appears to be content with pretending it never happened, so that’s what Jasmine will do too.

She has no desire to ignore her, but they don’t have to be friends. This was a one-off.

Frankie pulls her notebook out and writes down about a chair. Jasmine isn’t supposed to look, but she can’t help herself. The pages flip with the wind, and the glimmer of some pencil sketches pass by.

“Do you draw?” Jasmine asks.

“Yeah,” Frankie replies.

“Can I see? ”

“Uhm—“

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Jasmine says. Stupid. They’re not friends.

Frankie tilts the book inwards as if Jasmine is going to steal it from her, but then she flattens it completely and shows her some. It’s a page full of lips, hands, a few shoulders. Jasmine’s eyes widen. How powerful someone must be to be able to draw.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, her fingers close to the page but not touching. “That’s insane. You’re so talented.”

Frankie hums, and a soft breeze moves Jasmine’s hair into her face.

Frankie is quick, though, moving the strands out of her eyes.

The page flutters. Jasmine can’t see anything for real, but she thinks there’s flowers and someone with curly hair.

She’s jealous of someone Frankie thinks is nice enough to remember in pencil.

Jasmine pulls back and tries to remember what they’re discussing. Lani.

“You don’t have to buy a chair. We have one.”

Frankie shrugs. “We can do whatever you and Lani want, but my heart will feel better if the club gets one. It would just be for her, to avoid germs and stuff, but I think I would be happier if there were a spare. Her own one is cute—the pink is adorable—but you’d have to clean it all the time, and I don’t want her to be held back because I’m too scared for her chair to get bashed. ”

“Isn’t it touch rugby?”

“Yeah,” Frankie replies, smiling down at the ground. Jasmine wishes they were closer so she could lift her face up again. “But what about germs? Have you seen how gross some kids are?”

Jasmine snorts. Then her chest wriggles.

She’s not used to anyone making accommodations with Lani.

If someone got a kit because they paid the join-up fee, but then didn’t want to go anymore, that would be fine.

What if Lani doesn’t want to go, but she has to because they bought an expensive chair for her?

“Tell me something,” Frankie says, and when Jasmine looks at her, there’s a small smile on her face.

“Tell you what?”

Frankie shrugs. “Whatever you’re thinking about.”

“Can I pay for the chair?”

“No.”

“Frankie,” she whines. “You didn’t even hear me out.”

Frankie laughs quietly. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“I don’t want Lani to feel pressured to join if she doesn’t want to because you got something expensive just for her.”

“I didn’t get it for her,” Frankie says, picking at the side of her book.

Jasmine frowns. “You said no one on the team needs one.”

Frankie shrugs.

“Then who did you get it for?”

Frankie looks at her lap, a small smile on her face.

She looks up at her once, a light blush on her cheeks.

Oh. Jasmine’s about to be fooled thrice before she’s even left the grounds.

Jasmine faces the field again, chewing on her lip.

Frankie copies her, but Jasmine can feel her looking at her regardless.