Dinner in tow, I set up in my room and turned on the documentary series I’d been listening to on YouTube, twenty-minute history videos excoriating historical dramas for their lack of accuracy.
Yep, I was a nerd.
After a bite of the lasagna, I texted the channel name to Jake on a whim, then pulled out my notes and began signing up for the various Reminds for each of my classes. Almost as soon as I signed up for French, there was a note from Mathieu the TA.
Commencez à planifier le plat français que vous souhaitez préparer pour le menu du mois de septembre. Vous devez faire une vidéo de chaque étape. Si vous avez des questions, contactez Madame ou moi-même.
Menu assignment. We’d done that last year, too. Only we hadn’t had to video ourselves, just present it to the class in French, and detail what it was about the dish we enjoyed. Making a video would be a little more complicated.
I could use my phone to make the video. But what did I fix?
Peut-on réparer quelque chose?
I sent it to the Remind for the class. The app was useful; it let the whole class have one open text thread with the teacher, so in theory the teachers only had to answer once.
La nourriture de votre choix.
Mathieu answered pretty promptly. Okay, so think about what to fix for class. I dug out my notebook and added an item to research French recipes.
My phone buzzed.
Jake: This dude is hilarious! Which one are you watching?
I glanced at the screen on my laptop. Then sent back, Master and Commander.
Jake: I’m watching Patriot. When you’re done, switch to Troy at the same time?
I hadn’t actually watched that one yet. Okay. I have ten minutes.
Jake: 8 here. I’ll get it ready to go and wait for you to text before I hit play.
Archie: You still want hot coffee in the morning or want me to bring iced?
He didn’t have to bring coffee.
Archie: I’m bringing it either way, so just tell me what you want.
I sighed. Iced would probably be better while it’s so hot.
Archie: Agreed. Want more croissants? Or they have those egg, ham, and swiss croissant sandwiches?
A laugh escaped me as I stared at the message. You don’t have to feed me. But if you bring food, I’ll chip in.
Archie: Pfft. Croissants and iced coffee. Meet in the cafeteria. I try to get there right at 7:45.
That was earlier than I normally went to school. Okay, will try. I’ll let Coop know.
Archie: See you in the morning.
By the time I sent Coop the change in plans and the video ended, I’d finished my lasagna.
I texted Jake I was going to be a minute and carried the dishes into the sink. I washed them up and then checked the fridge for something else, because I was still hungry. Yogurt in hand, I retreated to my bedroom. Tiddles had settled into his spot at the window and Tabby was on my pillow. Tory was under the bed, a fact I discovered when she tried to grab my feet when I walked by. Settled again, I sent Jake a text that I was ready, and the phone rang.
“Hey, Jake,” I said by way of answer.
“Hey, Frankie. Hit play in 3-2—1…”
Twenty-five minutes later, we switched to watching the Alexander the Great one. It took three more before I got him off the phone because I really did have some reading to do before bed.
Jake: Those are awesome. Send me a list of all the ones you’ve already seen, and I’ll catch up? We can watch more later this week. Maybe?
Yep. Jake and me?
Nerds.
I sent him the list and then pulled out the World History text. I’d gotten a couple more posts from Mathieu in the Remind answering questions from other students and an email from him.
Huh.
Flipping open the email, I had to grin. It was a picture of a dish and the words This is my favorite dessert. I’m also an expert in how it should taste, if you want someone to practice with.
I emailed him back, in French, thanking him for the idea and his offer to taste test but it might take me a few tries to get it right.
He answered before I could even tab out of my email.
Then that will give us a lot of time to get to know each other. When would you like to start?
Oh.
That was almost a date.
And then I began to grin. The French exchange student hadn’t gotten the memo.
Ha.
I’d show them
How about Sunday evening?
The guys had me pretty booked but…
Another prompt response: It’s a date.
Well…how about that?
Grinning, I set the phone down and curled up to read about early European civilization.
Chapter Five
Variables
Tuesday blew past almost as swiftly as Monday. I had to admit, French was a whole lot more interesting with Mathieu shooting me quick smiles during the assignment. If I’d had any questions about whether his “dessert tasting” date was a real offer, I didn’t by the end of class. He motioned to me as the class ended, so I took my time about packing up.
Renee Miller scooted right up to Mathieu while I packed away my notebook, but he didn’t linger with her as he slid his own backpack over his shoulder. He fell into step with me as I left the classroom. “If you have to talk to her…” I told him, motioning to where Renee had turned to talk to Madame.
“I cannot,” he said in that delicious French accent, though his English was impeccable. “I have no say over grades. I just help the making of the projections and test your—conversational French.”
“Comment je fais si loin?” I asked how I was doing so far.
“Très bien,” he offered with a chef’s kiss. “Your accent is good, not as American as I would expect. Or as—Texan, is that the word?”
I laughed. We were almost to the stairs. Mathieu’s dark eyes danced with the promise of mischief and his tousled hair didn’t look remotely styled, yet he dressed impeccably from his Polo shirt to his slacks and nice shoes. Nothing about him said local boy.
It was great.
“Texan would be the word, born and bred. But, contrary to the pop culture opinion, our cities can be just as metropolitan as those found in New York or California.”
“I have never been to New York or California, so I will take your word for it.” At the steps, he hesitated and then pulled out a notecard. “The recipe.” He offered it to me. “If you are still interested in this dessert. There are others that I like as well.”
Grasping the card between my thumb and forefinger, I raised my eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”
He slid his gaze to the side, another smile flirting at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps? If you are one who likes challenges.”
“I might be,” I said, still holding the card, though he hadn’t released it. “But if I win the challenge, what do I get?”
“A surprise,” was all he offered, and I shook my head. He released the card, so I used it to fan my face once. “Hopefully, a couple of fun evenings?”
“Two, huh?” I eyed the recipe then him. “So the number of evenings hinges on how soon I master this? Cause that could take a while.”
His eyes grew a bit brighter. “As long as it takes. I will see you tomorrow, Francesca?”
“Frankie,” I corrected.
“I know,” he said, turning to walk backwards. “Mais ton nom est magnifique. Comme toi.”
Holy hell, my face was hot by the time he pivoted and headed off to his next class. I wish we shared more than just AP French, but at least I got him there. Still fanning my face, I darted up the stairs and barely slid in the doors of AP Lit before the bell rang. Ms. Fajardo gave me a laughing smile and Coop rolled his eyes as I sank into the chair next to his.
When he reached for my notecard, I jerked it away and then stored it in my backpack. I hadn’t had a chance to really look over the recipe yet, but I wasn’t tipping the guys off. I didn’t need them
messing up what had the potential to be a good thing.
But your name is beautiful. Like you. The compliment could have been so dorky, but the way Mathieu delivered it? Wow.
Class turned into a fun debate about the merits of literature, particularly literature that was three centuries out of sync with the times…or was it? Even Coop rallied to argue a few points, and he didn’t get passionate about much.
Ms. Fajardo pointed out that one of our ongoing assignments for the semester needed to be a journal. We could do the writing in class or at home, but we had to write every day—even on weekends. It could be a few sentences or pages, but we had to investigate literature parallels with our daily lives.
“What does that even mean?” Sasha Reader asked. “Picking out whether the lack of curtains in a classroom relates to our lack of a right to privacy at school?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Ms. Fajardo pointed out much to the other girl’s chagrin. Sasha glanced at me with raised eyebrows, the what the hell clear in her expression.
“But why?” Sasha pressed.
“Because,” Ms. Fajardo answered, and without me even trying to get her attention, I knew she’d looked at me. “Frankie, why do you think we need to do this assignment?”
Coop nudged my foot with his, all but silently laughing at me. I hated getting called out in front of the whole class.
“Because the themes in literature are only themes because they serve as a metaphor for real life. Dickens wrote about the common man and his stories resonate over a hundred years later because we have orphans, we have foster kids, we have—single parent families—and financial struggles. We know what it is to be torn between a personal goal and what society thinks we should want. Literature should be like a flashlight, giving us a new way to look at our own lives.”
“Nerd,” Coop whispered even as Ms. Fajardo said, “Precisely. Now, you don’t have to be Dickens to keep the journal, you just have to write about what I would imagine are your favorite topics—your lives, how you are handling the day to day, what challenges are you facing, what goals are you setting… Before anyone starts to worry about who is going to see it, I will ask to see your journals once a week, but only to verify that you have written. You will not leave them with me. I will check them here in class, one at a time, and they will go home with you.”
She continued in that vein for some time and I sighed. I had never been much of a diary keeper. I’d tried once, gave it up as a bad effort when all I could do were write long, lonely letters about the things I wished I could do or short, stupid comments about the day to day things—like feeding the cats or waiting up for Mom to come home from a date.
If I’d had one at the end of last year, I might have written some horribly embarrassing and vitriolic comments about some of my so-called friends. Thankfully, not an issue. This assignment, however, might be. Coop, of course, slung an arm around me as we headed to lunch.
“Dear Diary, today in class, I had to prove that once again I’m the only person who actually does the reading and understands it…”
I shoved him, hard, and managed to elbow him in the gut at the same time. “Get off,” I ordered. “Ass.”
“Aww, c’mon, Frankie. You know I’m teasing.”
Whatever. I flipped him off and kept walking. Not that it proved a deterrent, because he trailed right behind me down the steps and toward the cafeteria along with the few thousand other students. I really, really hated that everyone went to lunch at the same time.
“Coop!” Laura materialized. God, did she have Coop low jacked or something? “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Well, you didn’t find me earlier so you mustn’t have been looking that hard.”
I think I just threw up in my mouth.
Ignoring them, I cut across the crowded lines toward the doors leading outside. There were a few picnic tables out there on the shaded breezeway. if I was lucky, I could score one before they filled up. Out the door, I angled across the grass toward the oversized breezeway between the main building and the addition they’d built right before my freshman year. Two of the three picnic tables were taken, but I slid onto the third one with nary a second to spare.
A pair of freshmen with trays stared at me, and I stared right back.
With a sigh, they turned and went elsewhere.
Good freshmen. Backpack off, I dug out my lunch—the sandwich from the day before, a bag of carrots, and a bottle of water. Before I could take a bite, a heavily laden tray slid onto the table across from me, followed by a blond-haired jock wearing a familiar smile.
“Hey, Frankie.”
“Hey, Bubba.” As irritating as they could all be, Bubba had the temperament of a golden retriever. Like the day before, he looked tired, despite his smile. He dropped his backpack on the ground and reached for the container of chocolate milk on his tray of—a hamburger, a slice of pizza, and small stack of fries and what…?
“What is that?” I pointed to the plastic packed item that was upside down.
“Pop tarts,” Bubba said with an unabashed grin. “Brought them with me this morning but forgot to eat them, so I figured I’d have them for dessert.”
God, that was a lot of food. I bit into my sandwich and shook my head.
“It’s frosted strawberry,” he said, holding it up like he was trying to tempt me. “I’ll share.”
“I’m good.” I motioned to my carrots. “Got my dessert right there.”
“Rabbit food and…pb and j, you’re just rocking the top of the line menu choices.”
“If it works…”
“…don’t change it,” Archie finished as he dropped onto the seat next to me. “Why are we eating at school?” Though Bubba was right there, Archie focused his attention on me.
“I don’t know, Arch. I’m eating here because I brought my lunch. Bubba appears to have staged a raid on the lunch line.”
Bubba laughed.
“Ugh,” Archie said making a face. “I’d rather leave campus.”
“No one is keeping you here,” I reminded him and took another bite of my sandwich. When he reached for one of my carrots, I pulled them away.
“I don’t want to stand in the line,” Archie said by way of explanation. “And I don’t want to eat by myself.”
“You’re not by yourself,” Jake set his tray on the table on my free side. His was piled higher than Bubba’s had been—in that he had two of everything.
“Do they not feed you at home?” I mean, I know it was a rude question, but damn.
“Eh, couldn’t make up my mind and didn’t know if you had actual food or—” He motioned to the carrots. “Rabbit food.” He set a burger and a container of fries in front of me.
“Great,” Archie said, shoving his backpack under the table and reaching over me to snag some fries.
Rather than deal with the lean and reach, I transferred the fries to Archie’s side along with the burger.
“Hey,” Jake growled, and reached past me to put them back. “Those are for Frankie. Go get your own.”
“You’re all determined to starve me, aren’t you?” Archie looked so morose, I couldn’t help laughing.
“Poor baby, nobody loves you.”
“Here,” Bubba said. “I’ll share.” He slid the Pop Tart over to Archie. I had to bite my lip to keep from guffawing. Archie hated Pop Tarts. He acted like they’d committed a crime against breakfast food.
“Thanks,” Archie said with a scowl. He turned to me. “I’ll trade you this for the other half of your sandwich, since you have a burger now.”
I didn’t want a burger, but it was kind of pathetic…
“What the hell is he doing?” Bubba murmured, scowling. Bubba didn’t glare at anyone. I twisted along with Archie and Jake to see what snagged his attention. Coop was strolling toward the parking lot with Laura and a couple of her friends. They were all talking in animated fashion, and he had an arm looped over her shoulders. Sunglasses hid his eyes.
“B
eing a dumbass,” Jake commented turning around.
“He likes her,” I reminded them. “And it’s not like you all haven’t had girlfriends.”
Archie snorted. “I’ve never dumped the guys for a girl.”
“You and Patty ate lunch together for two months last year,” I reminded him.
“We had a project and it was literally the only time we could work on it,” he retaliated. Then he stuffed a fry in his mouth.
“Whatever,” Jake said, the nudged the burger. “Eat. I don’t care where Coop eats lunch. His loss.”
But Jake didn’t argue with me. They’d all had their girlfriends and there’d been plenty of times they’d individually or en masse disappeared down the dating rabbit hole.
“I’m not sure I’m burger hungry.” I held up the other half of my sandwich, only Archie snagged it then took a big bite.
Ass.
I punched him in the shoulder, and he winced, coughing hard a minute later. Served him right if he choked on it.
Bubba snickered. “Don’t take her sandwich next time, idiot.”
“I was trying to help,” Archie said with a wince, rubbing his shoulder. “Did you take up boxing this summer or something?”
“Or something,” I said, keeping it vague. The burger was not what I wanted, but I was still hungry.
“What did you do this summer, Frankie? We saw you at my party and at work,” Bubba nudged my leg with his foot. “But Coop said you were really busy and that stuff with your mom wasn’t great.”
Jake focused on the food in front of him, but Archie and Bubba looked at me expectantly. Apparently, Jake hadn’t shared his theories with them.
“Just stuff, things to figure out. Didn’t get to visit the colleges, but I did some virtual tours. Did you get the calculus questions done?” I’d finished my section before school because I’d been too tired to deal with it the night before and there weren’t that many.
“Most of them,” Bubba admitted. “I think the last one had an error in the question itself.”
“A typo?” Cause that happened. I hadn’t read through chapter one, because we covered the subject material the year before. Relenting, I took a bite of the burger and tried not to sigh. It was actually pretty good, and it already had ketchup on it. I didn’t eat burgers with anything except ketchup and cheese, and not always the cheese. Jake wore a small smile as he took a bite of his own and I bumped his shoulder lightly. “Thanks,” I muttered then reached for my bag to dig out my calculus book.
Rules and Roses: Untouchable Book One Page 6
