Frances stayed closed-off for a couple of days. She just really wanted to feel isolated and empty and alone - it was all she'd ever made her friends feel, right? She stayed in her room all hours after school, sometimes not even eating dinner regardless of how hungry she was - she couldn't face her dad after what she'd done to him. She didn't look at Philip or Theodosia. She wasn't good enough to be their friend. They didn't deserve to see someone who had done a part in ruining their lives, so she did everything in her power to avoid them, to disappear from them. Toxic people needed to be cut out of their lives, so she cut herself out.
She thought she was doing perfectly fine, feeling miserable with every step she took and also cynically pleased with the absolutely shriveled, rotten way it made her feel inside. She was getting what she deserved for what she'd done, and she was completely fine with it.
Frances twisted her key through its hole on her front door and lazily opened the door. Turning the bolt so the door locked behind her, she kicked off her shoes and was about to go straight to her room when she saw her father. She hadn't taken a good look at him in an insanely long time. It was almost alien to not talk with her father after school, but, as it was with Philip and Theodosia, she didn't want to make him feel worse by having to talk to someone who'd been so selfish as to take his happiness away from him.
Today, however, he was already looking at her. He had the worst possible look on his face. It was devastated and lonely and all Frances wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and give him a hug that would say more than she ever could to him. He gazed at her, eyes glassy, and Frances almost stumbled with the way it made her heart feel. "Frances, Frances, Fran, I'm sorry," her father murmured, looking down. Frances sucked in a breath, feeling tears sting her eyes, and desperately raced to her room. There she threw herself on the bed, a new feeling in her heart, overwhelming her.
It was a surprisingly... empowering... feeling.
Something she'd never felt before. Was it... confidence?
Or maybe it was determination.
Whatever it was, it sent her adrenaline wild, coursing through her veins as she realized how truly unhappy her father was and how blind she was to it. He was clearly depressed to the point of detriment. And though she saw the desolation and hopelessness in his eyes, she could still see the way he looked at her longingly, lovingly. He loved her. And deep inside, she knew that. She knew it was a dumb thing to remind herself that he loved her. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it wasn't dumb. She always knew inside that he loved her, but she had always taken it for granted.
And if someone whose life she'd turned upside down for worse still loved her - and not only that, loved her unconditionally - then what was she doing? How could she leave someone behind who still loved her? How could she just push him away like that when he missed her?
The adrenaline was still tingling inside of her, but it had caused her heart to take on a jittery feeling, and she knew that she couldn't just cut herself out of these people's lives. She'd taken enough from them already, and she needed to give back, not take more away.
Because problems couldn't be healed with time, or healed at all, for that matter. They had to be solved and fixed.
And even if Frances had no clue as to how, she was going to fix the problems she'd created.
--
So maybe it wasn't adrenaline in herself. Maybe it was just confidence. It was a lot lighter than anything she'd felt in the past couple of weeks, anyway. It was uplifting and gave her a sense of freedom, a sense that she was going to make things work because there was always a chance that they could go amazingly right.
She hadn't felt that self-assured in a very long while. She didn't feel so desperate, clinging on to something that was bound to break at any second.
So that's what it was. It wasn't confidence, though that was something it helped to fuel. It was hope.
So when she stepped off the bus the next morning at school, she felt happy.
Wow, it felt so good to be happy again.
She made it through her first few classes well enough, though it was hard for her to pay attention. She was jittery - leg bouncing, stomach fluttering, and all - as she sat on the edge of her seat, anticipating lunch.
When the bell rang, she was up out of her seat, speed walking to the cafeteria, where she made a beeline to one table in particular.
Philip sat all alone at the table, opening his brought lunch. Frances always saw him sit alone for the first few minutes of lunch while everyone else he ate with got into the lunch line to buy food.
The hope fluttering in her chest morphed into an anxious stirring in her stomach, but she approached him anyway.
"Hey, Philip?" she asked gingerly. "Do you mind if we talk? There's something I really need to say to you."
She could tell Philip heard her by the way he froze, then slowly put down his fork. He turned around on the seat to look at her quietly, trying to gauge something from her expression. His eyes narrowed, but his voice was cool when he spoke. "I'd rather not, Frances," he responded. "I was having a good day up until now and I'd like it to remain that way."
Frances swallowed hard, but in a triumphant moment she realized that for fucking once she didn't feel tears prick her eyes. Instead, she felt something inside of her harden, solidify. "Please, Philip. I want to fix what I've done."
Philip just turned back around so his back was to her, and replied plainly, "I'd like to see you try."
Frances barely noticed anything over the pounding of her heartbeat. She blinked a couple of times before realizing that that was her cue to leave, then slowly turned and left.
For some reason, she felt different than she thought she would after being rudely rejected. She'd just wanted to apologize, to tell him that she wanted to get their parents back together, but now that Philip wasn't on board with anything, she realized she would have to do it herself.
For once, she wasn't going to contradict Philip. She was going to try.
Maybe she didn't quite know how yet, but that was okay.
She wasn't disheartened at all. She was determined.
--
Frances planned on going home and trying to figure out a way to prove to people that she was changing. That she wanted to make things right again and be a good friend. Her mind was still buzzing from what Philip said and what she could do to change his mind when she stepped into her science classroom for the last period of the day.
She slid into her seat, letting her mind drift. She wondered what she could do to prove to Philip that she understood everything. Everything she did, everything he told her, everything she needed to do. But she didn't know how to tell him if he didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to resort to being the pushy bitch she knew she was before.
Before she knew it, a good twenty minutes had passed and she had missed most of what her teacher had been talking about, but tuned back in just in time to hear him say something about groups of two or three.
Oh, shit, Frances immediately thought. Not a group project, please.
Mr. Frazer, however, clearly didn't hear Frances' thoughts and proceeded to discuss the details while clicking the small remote in his hand to change the slide on his powerpoint. Frances could feel her all-too-familiar pool of dread begin to churn in her stomach as she glanced around the classroom. She was already completely aware of her preexisting lack of friends, but while everyone leaned around each other to lock eyes with their friends, mentally finding a partner for the project, it felt blatantly, tauntingly obvious that she was a loser.
Sighing when Mr. Frazer turned off his powerpoint and motioned for the kids to go crazy and find another student to work with, Frances sat back and waited defeatedly for the mass of teenagers to settle. She knew there were thirty kids in the class, so someone would have to be stuck with her. If no one wanted to be her partner, why bother asking people if someone would end up with her no matter what?
The dread slithered its way into panic when kids started sitting down with their partner and no one was left standing awkwardly.
Wait, what? Frances straightened up slowly, scanning the class for a group of three that may have been allowed, but none was in sight.
"Um, Mr. Frazer?" Frances hesitantly stood up to approach her teacher's desk. "I thought there was an even number of people in this class, is there someone absent-"
"Mr. F, sorry I'm late!" A voice came from behind her as the door slammed open. "I was helping this kid in the hallway, I'm really sorry. I got a pass, it's right here."
Mr. Frazer locked eyes with Frances, saying, "Here. He'll have to be your partner, then."
Frances nodded, turning around, and was met face to face with Philip Hamilton.
Of fucking course. Frances wanted to laugh at the irony.
"Thank you, Philip. We started a group project, and since you're late, you'll have to work with Frances. I can get you caught up on what we went over," her teacher told Philip, who nodded, grimacing when he mentioned Frances. Frances took a seat slowly, apologetically, and flipped open the packet to start filling in a hypothesis.
As Philip talked to the teacher, Frances had plenty of time to think. She was having trouble not being frustrated. It was just her luck that the one person who never wanted to see her again was someone who was stuck with her for the next week. She couldn't believe that Philip Hamilton of all people - wait.
Wait a minute!
This was perfect! A project. Together. This was the perfect excuse to make a plan and fix everything. Frances actually felt a smile growing on her face until the chair next to hers scraped against the floor as her partner took a seat.
He glared down at the thin stack of stapled pages that he set on the table, and began to scrawl his name, rather aggressively, on the top left corner.
Frances itched when he saw his refusal to look her in the eye, and felt inclined to say something to fill the silence. "Look, I'm sorry it was me you had to be stuck with."
The pause of Philip's pencil point on his paper was the only indication that he heard her.
After a second of debating whether to engage in conversation with her, he grumbled back, "Yeah, well, if this is what I get for helping someone, I'd rather just be rude." He glanced up at her with an irritated glance. "I guess you'd know about that, though."
Frances blinked and her lips parted in surprise. She didn't say anything back since he was obviously right, but she just hadn't expecting him to make such a petty insult. Although, she figured, if he was going to insult her, he was going to stoop to her level to do so.
Frances continued the pre-lab, and was about to ask Philip what he thought, but he just slid his paper over to her side of the desks and stared stubbornly ahead. Taking the hint, she just glanced over at his page silently to look at his notes.
Frances continued to flip through the packet as the class dragged on, but she was hardly working. Instead, she was trying to devise a way to use her perfect opportunity to her, and everyone else's advantage. She had a pretty good idea forming in her head when she heard the telltale clicks snaps of binder rings and shuffle of papers that meant the class was nearly over.
Frances quickly turned to Philip, who was clearly trying to make his escape - he was cramming papers in his backpack and trying to make for the door, but Frances grabbed his shoulder. Over the bustle of students in the room, she wasn't sure if he'd hear her call his name. He turned around, glare still simmering in his eyes.
"Yes?" He asked, rather civilly, though the exasperation on his face was evident.
"Um, the - the project, it's, uh gonna be due Monday. Are you free this weekend?" Frances stammered out, completely awkwardly.
Philip heaved a sigh. "Right. Right, yeah. Um, sure... lemme - uh - yeah, yeah, Saturday should work," he replied carelessly, glancing behind him at the door, which students were trickling out of. "Here-" he scrounged around for a sheet of paper, but upon finding nothing, he dug through his pocket and pulled out an empty gum wrapper, which he scrawled his phone number on. "Take that and text me details."
The wrapper was shoved at Frances, who almost dropped it. "Yeah - um, okay! Alright!" She called after him, but he was already out the door.
--
Frances got more time to think on the bus ride home, which was usually excruciatingly long, but today she was so lost in thought that she barely even noticed when it was her stop. The bus driver had to call her name multiple times before she remembered that - oh yeah, I need to get off the bus.
When Frances came home, she sat at her desk, finalizing what she was going to do and marveling at how perfectly things were fitting together after an eternity of things being so scattered. She texted Philip to confirm a time for him to come over to her house to finish their project, which went right according to plan.
Frances: hey this is frances
Philip: Hey, Frances..
i honestly dont want to
bother you at all so if youre
free tmrw, what time can ucome over?
Tomorrow's Saturday, right?
What time works for you? I'm
free all day.
great, how bout tmrw
from 11 to like 230?
Okay, that should work. See
you then.
k, thnx
This was perfect. A Saturday meant everyone in her family woke up late. She quickly wrote down a grocery list for her father, making sure to include a couple mundane items like eggs and milk to make the weirder items not seem so suspicious.
After finishing her homework, she went downstairs and helped her dad make dinner. They ate together, exchanging a tentative but very much needed, comforting conversation, and she carefully asked if he could go shopping tomorrow morning after he woke up. It was odd how eager his reaction was. He nodded, giving her surprisingly wide smile, and told her to put the grocery list on his computer so he didn't forget about it the next morning.
Though they were awkward, at least they were talking. Neither of them apologized. Neither spoke of their feelings. They didn't address any of the figurative elephants in the room, just sat and ate and made small talk. How was your day, did you do anything interesting, just simple ways to ease themselves back into each other's lives. Testing the waters before diving into the apology or explanation conversation.
Frances smiled, noting how her dad had a trace of a smile when he slid his plate into the dishwasher, how he turned around to gaze at her lovingly when she headed up the stairs to finish her homework.
Frances spent the majority of her evening smiling. She was feeling, again, very different than she usually did. She was used to having so much emotion inside of her at once, that it was boiling over, trembling until it exploded. Now she felt very peaceful and mellow, relaxed and content. A smile of her own gradually grew on her face as she thought of her dad's smile, and how she hadn't realized before how much that smile had diminished when Mr. Hamilton stopped showing up at her house.
Then she realized how happy she was thinking about her dad smile, and she thought excitedly, I'm not jealous anymore. I am truly, really truly happy for my dad. It was a completely different feeling, and it cheered her up significantly.
She heard her dad softly make his way up the stairs to his room, and Frances quickly flung open her door and threw her arms around her dad, pulling him into a hug. He stumbled back a bit and it took him a full second until her wrapped his arms around her too, carefully and tightly, as if he was afraid she'd slip away. She stayed hugging him for much longer than a minute, breathing in the scent of his shirt that was such a dad smell to her - turpentine and paint and something warm - and burying her face in his shoulder.
He enveloped her in a fatherly bear hug that reminded her all over again what love was. She had love. He was giving her love and she was returning it and she felt so good in that moment that she never wanted it to end.
She murmured a g'night, love you, to him and he responded similarly, voice muffled through the hug. Through his voice alone, she could hear him smile.