frankie [episodes 1-3]

-5-

At the end of the day I trudge down the school corridors towards the gym. Rebecca is already there – dressed in shorts and a baggy Metallica T-Shirt – jogging manically on the spot in the centre of the grey hall.

I feel a build-up of frustration inside me as I enter. I used to like sport. Now I hate it, and I hate this room. I hate it with a passion. The echoes of body-shaming-taunts linger within the very fabric of the space, mixed in with the stale smell of bare feet. I raise an eyebrow at Rigor.

"What are you doing?!"

Rebecca looks up at me, her face flushed from the exercise.

"Just passing the time," she jogs up to me and stops, panting for breath. "Go get changed then. We need to see if you can do gymnastics."

"Oh right, yeah, let me just whip out the leotard I carry about my person at all times..."

She tilts her head to the side and continues to stare at me.

"I'm not getting changed, Rigor. I'm not doing this. I don't want to try out for the cheerleading team. I told you." I sigh, hating the pleading tone to my voice as I speak, "Can we just...can we just go look around the changing rooms, like you said, please?

She looks at me a moment longer then smiles.

"Course, clue hunt it is." She turns and I follow her out of the hall. She looks over her shoulder, "You know a week ago you wouldn't have even wanted to look for clues. This is progress!"

"Oh, well thanks for that condescending evaluation..."

She grins then suddenly shushes me. She stops still in her tracks next to the boy's locker room. There are male voices inside. She pushes her ear against the cheap wooden door.

"What? There are voices inside - shock, horror!" I say. "It's a changing room, it'll be one of the sports teams."

A puzzled look crosses her face.

"It's not that...it's..."

Suddenly the door opens and she stumbles forward into Jared's chest. He's wearing tracksuit bottoms and a white, tight fitting T-Shirt which is a stark contrast to the grungy clothes he usually wears. He looks down at her in surprise.

"What the hell...?" starts Rebecca.

The cheerleading coach approaches behind him – he's slightly shorter than Jared, and more slender in build, so his body is almost completely obstructed by Jared's broad frame.

"Well, hello there Rebecca," says the coach cheerfully, his grey eyes slide onto me and he nods, "Frankie."

There's something about his gaze that sets me on edge, but I guess that's true of most people so I try to push it aside. I remember trying out for him before, the same time that Kerri was on the cheerleading team. He looks different, though I cannot put my finger on why – younger perhaps. He must be at least fifty but the grey streaks I recall in his dark hair are gone, and his skin seems as smooth as a baby's.

He side-steps Jared and walks over to his office, looking over his shoulder. His eyes intensify – flashing silver as they focus on us both. He smiles tightly.

"You girls should try out for my cheerleading team. I always find sport a good way to exercise those inner demons."

Then he disappears into his office.

Rebecca makes a big show of shuddering.

"That guy gives me the serious heeby jeebies," then she focuses on Jared. "Anyway...as I was saying. What the hell are you doing here?!"

He leans against the door frame.

"Got a volunteer job coaching the football team. Carter seems to think whatever demon got their hands on Kerri, preyed on her at the school. So here I am."

Rebecca wrinkles her nose.

"Can you even play football?"

Jared shrugs.

"To be honest when Paul, that's Mr. Harrison to you, gave me the job I was a little surprised. But hey, I'm here now..."

"But...you're going to have to, like, coach people... how to play...football...?"

Jared's expression darkens and an irritable look crosses his dace.

"Kick the ball, get it into the goal. Is there really any more to it? Now," he adds, "you find anything in the file?"

Rebecca quickly fills him in on the cheerleaders, the suicide note, and the weird incident I witnessed in the bathrooms yesterday.

"...and now we think whatever might have happened to Kerri, is happening again now. So, we're looking for clues," she says. She saunters over to the girl's changing rooms and opens the door, "You coming?"

Jared looks at me and I see the usual supressed coldness behind his dark eyes. I tense for a moment, feeling a pang of disappointment. I thought we were starting to get on. Then he shrugs and together we turn and follow Rebecca through the door.

She strides past the bench in the middle of the room straight to the locker marked Courtney and bashes her fist against it. There's a snapping sound and it springs open.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

She gives me a wide-eyed innocent look, "Looking for clues."

Jared leans against the nearest locker, watching the scene unfold with a look of bored amusement on his face.

"That's Courtney's locker!"

"Wasn't Courtney one of the girls who was saying the weird chant?" says Jared.

"Well yes, but..."

"So, isn't it logical for Rebecca to look in her locker?"

I spin around to stare up at him. He raises a dark eyebrow and I notice a conflict behind his eyes – an amusement mixed with the former coldness.

"Is it logical to...I don't know...poke an angry bear with a stick?!"

"If you were measuring a bear's reaction to being poked with a stick – that might be logical."

"Don't be such a smart-arse," I spit, "She's going to kill us when she finds out."

Dread bubbles in the depths of my gut at the thought. I'm only acutely aware of Rebecca busting open all the other lockers down the line. A smile tugs at the corner of Jared's lip.

"She's not going to..."

"Guys," interjects Rebecca.

We spin around to face her and my stomach curdles. She's stood in the centre of the lockers, each one of them open, the mirrors in the doors facing outwards. The same words are written on each of them in thick, red lipstick.

You are ugly. You are worthless. You are nothing. You are mine.

Rebecca's face is unusually serious as she stares at us.

"What the hell is going on here?" she says.

I'm just about to splutter a response when the sound of shrieking female voices approach from outside. I identify one above all the others – Courtney and Co. are coming. They must have been training outside. My mind quickly processes the horror of the situation.

They hate me. We've just invaded their privacy. And, from the looks of their lockers, they are currently of an even more unstable disposition than usual.

Rebecca catches my eye, an urgent expression on her face.

"Hide."