Page 39 of Summer Breakdown (Training Seasons #2)

“Frank,” Kai starts.

“No,” Frankie says. “I told that useless coach to get his fans under wraps, and he didn’t. I don’t even think they tried. We’re not playing like that. No fucking way.”

“I can come off,” Zach says. “It’s an important game.” Jasmine knows that too. It’s not the make or break of them and the championship, but it’ll make the rest of it harder. She knows Frankie’s not letting them go back outside. That doesn’t mean she won’t overthink every step of it.

“No.”

“Frank’s right,” Kai says. “We don’t want to set a precedent. What if we get a women’s team like Frank wants and someone is trans?” Jasmine frowns. A specific example that she’ll get Frankie to follow up with later.

“It’s going to lose us points,” Bright starts, but Frankie holds her hand up.

She spins, searching for something, and Jasmine wants to help her.

Frankie taps her heel manically and Jasmine almost steps forward to hold her hand.

Frankie’s never needed something like this.

Jasmine has no idea what she might want her to do.

She might not need her at all but she wishes she knew how to help.

Frankie sighs, her hand against her forehead. “Someone get me Jasmine.” Everyone looks at her and she spins, her eyes wide as if she’s going to ask again. Then, her eyes land on her, and she smiles.

“Oh. Hi.”

Jasmine smiles at her. “Hi.”

Frankie takes a deep breath. “What do you think?”

Jasmine frowns. “What?” Everyone looks at her like they will do what she says, as if she is an extension of Frankie right now. Jasmine doesn’t even know everyone’s name. Jasmine’s heart is a wild thing in her chest.

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Frankie replies. “What would you do?”

Jasmine chews on her lip. Jasmine would ask Frankie. She would do whatever Frankie said they should do because she’s the best person to ask. She has the skills, she knows the team, and she’s been on the pitch before.

She’d let this team she built from the ground up go to hell to protect her players.

Jasmine shrugs. “I’d do whatever you told me to.”

Frankie takes a breath in. “Everyone close your eyes.” Jasmine watches as they do, and she does it too. “Picture yourself as a child. Ezra, you were chubby, don’t forget that.”

Jasmine laughs, and she knows Ezra swore at her .

“Okay. Whatever age you were when you first thought rugby was cool. Now, picture yourself at that age on the pitch today.”

Jasmine thinks about Marcel. He was five, and he saw Maro Itoje on screen for the first time.

They couldn’t afford to go to a game, but Jasmine saved up for months to get him a shirt for his birthday.

Marcel still owns it now. He thought Maro was the coolest person he’d ever seen.

He might still have the crown. It might be Frankie.

“Put your hand up if you’d let them go back out,” Frankie asks. Jasmine knows she won’t send them out anyway. She’ll be halfway to packing her bags and, hopefully, coming back with Jasmine. Jasmine’s hand stays down. When she opens her eyes, everyone else’s is down too.

“Right,” Frankie says. “Get your stuff. Go home. I’ll sort this out.”

“Coach,” Zach starts, but she doesn’t let him finish.

“Training tomorrow at seven. Juniors after. You’re fined if you’re not gone by the time I get my phone from my office.”

“The press are going to wanna speak to someone,” Ezra replies, and Frankie rolls her eyes.

“Can’t they piss off for one day?”

“I’ll do it,” Ezra says, and everyone’s eyes snap to him. Ezra doesn’t speak to the press. He may tell them they’re all cunts and to fuck off. Jasmine kinda wants to see it.

“Meet you out there in ten?”

Jasmine waits at the side entrance with Mali and Zach. There’s a buzz from reporters as Ezra stands with phones and cameras pointed at him. He’s silent. He might be waiting for Frankie. He’s probably trying to piss them off.

“Adebayo,” a reporter shouts, when Frankie comes out. Jasmine wants to tell him to fix his fucking tone. “What did you think when Azan came out?”

Frankie raises her eyebrow. “Did you read the article?”

The sweaty man in an ill-fitting suit blinks rapidly. “Of course. ”

“Then you know how I felt about it.”

He groans, his face getting redder by the moment.

“The fans are asking for the captain’s view.

” They won’t be. Not fans of the Titans anyway.

That’s a loyalty that can’t be shaken. Once someone has travelled to the other end of the country on a hired coach to watch a Sunday game, nothing is shaking them off.

“Views on the homophobic chants from the opposing team, you mean?” Ezra asks, and the reporter shrinks slightly.

“Well, yes,” he replies. He attempts to stand straighter, but his suit jacket gets caught on his back. Mali holds her hand tighter, but Jasmine hears her giggle. “And, you know, Azan liking men.”

“Stunning,” Ezra replies quickly. His face doesn’t change. It never does.

“Excuse me?”

Ezra shrugs. “Why the fuck would I care who Azan does or does not like? You know he has a bird that would take me out if I tried flirting with him?”

Mali squeals, her fingernails digging into Jasmine’s palm.

“And what if he hit on you?”

“Why don’t you get some bollocks and ask me what you want to ask me?”

The reporter swallows, rolling his shoulders like he’s asking something of importance. “What are your views on homosexuality?”

“Dope,” he shrugs. “Whoever anyone loves, or wants to kiss, or wants to fuck is none of my fucking concern. If you’re safe, old enough, able to consent and want to consent, then why would I care? Love who you love. That’s all there is to it.”

Jasmine thinks he’s the second-coolest Adebayo she knows.

“Actually,” he says, turning back, “it’s brave as fuck to love out loud if you’re queer.

Braver than a sweaty old man hoping someone hates someone else for liking a specific gender.

It’s not the Stone Age. God forbid a balding old man sees teenagers holding hands and has a fucking fit about it,” he says.

It might be the most Jasmine has ever heard him speak.

“If you knew anything about me, or the club, you’d know my favourite person in the world is queer, and if you so much as turn your nose up at her, I will kick you in the teeth.”

The reporter stumbles back. “It’s all very aggressive.”

Ezra smiles a wide, bright smile, and the camera flashes go wild. Jasmine wonders if Frankie feels like Beyoncé in that one video with the red dress. “Thank you. Your misses likes you, and I don’t understand it, but you wouldn’t catch me going to your neck of the woods and screaming at you.”

“I don’t think you’d think that way if one came on to you.”

“Azan,” Ezra calls out. “Come here.” Zach looks as unbothered as Zach always looks as he walks over, which is just his face unless Mali is around.

“My thoughts?” Ezra asks, and he tilts his head and kisses Zach. Frankie’s jaw drops, and Mali screams. “There you go. For free and everything.”

The cameras are blinding, and Jasmine already knows what’s going to be on the front pages tomorrow, good or bad.

“I was told to be polite, and I think we can all agree I have been, but if we get hint of that at another game, I’ll knock you the fuck out. Unless you’re a child, then I’ll knock your parents the fuck out. Cheerio.”