Plan B

Chapter Thirty-two

The last few days of the half term dissolved into complete chaos.  Brookie’s fans were all over the place, and Fran found herself beset by her own group of fans, a larger group of anti-fans, and a few people who were “indifferent” to the fact that she may or may not have been dating Brookie but thought that they’d have the courtesy to tell her that they really didn’t care and that it wasn’t going to change their opinion of her.  Fran was baffled.

Brookie left early on Saturday morning to continue filming Stonehelm, which meant that Fran was followed almost all the way to Phil’s house by a horde of fan girls demanding to know where her “boyfriend” was.  Fran was still unsure how she’d managed to lose them when she was still hobbling on a crutch when Phil let her into the house.

“I swear, Brookie’s fans are scarier than Beliebers,” Fran groaned as she slumped in a chair.  “It’s like they all have rabies or something.  They’re definitely not sane.”  She flinched as a bullet from a Nerf gun caught her in the chest.

“Ha ha!” yelled Duncan, leaping out from hiding under the table.  “You’re dead!”

Philippa caught hold of her little brother’s wrist before he could charge Fran.

“Duncan, I wouldn’t.  I don’t think Frankie’s really in the mood.”

Duncan pouted.  “But Frankie’s always in the mood.”

Philippa sighed and relinquished her grip.  “Frankie has a bad leg today.  He can’t go chasing you around like normal.”

The doorbell rang.  Duncan scampered off before Philippa could say anymore.  The two girls heard him open the door, pause, and then close it again.  Not long after, he came trotting back with a confused expression on his face.

“Philippa, are you having a party?” he asked.  His big sister frowned.

“No.  Why?”

“There’s lots of people outside.”

Frown deepening, Philippa left the room and went to the front door to check.  Fran heard the door open and close again in rapid succession.

“Sweet Jesus,” Phil muttered as she returned.  “Frankie, you have to come and see this.”  She dragged Fran to her feet and handed her the crutch so that she could hobble into the hallway.  “God knows how many people there are standing outside that door.  Just take a quick peek.”

Fran scanned the door for a peephole, but there wasn’t one, so she reluctantly took it off the latch and opened the door a crack.

The instant the girls outside saw her face, a massive wall of sound hit her.  Fran slammed the door shut immediately and jerked away from it.

“Sh*t.  How did they find me again?!”

“I don’t want them sitting on my doorstep,” Philippa said.  “Do you reckon I can call the police?”

Fran nodded vigorously, slumping against the wall.  “Please do, or we can consider this house arrest for the weekend.”

“You’re both criminals!”  Duncan popped up between them, a plastic truncheon in each hand and wearing a fake police helmet that was topped with a flashing blue light.  “I’m arresting you both and you can stay here!”

Wearily, Fran closed her eyes.  “Just go and join the fans outside.”

Duncan looked up at her in horror.  “But Frankie, they’re all girls!”

Philippa clocked him over the head.  “Oi.  What’s wrong with being a girl?”

“But they’re all weird girls,” he protested.  Fran and Philippa exchanged glances.