—45—
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
Route 11 tram to Brunswick Street
An Abundance of Katherines by John Green
Glen Waverley train line to the city
Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli
Frankston train line to Flinders Street
Wonder by RJ Palacio
Alamein train line to Alamein
A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness
Route 11 tram to Brunswick Street
Frankie looked on either side of her and, when the coast was clear, discreetly placed her brand-new copy of Looking for Alaska on the seat beside her. She pressed her hand inside the book, feeling for the dog-eared page on which was written: ‘I’m sorry. I love you. Please call me – Frankie xo’. She sighed, subconsciously crossing her fingers and toes. Please, please find this book, Sunny, she silently chanted. Since she had concocted her plan to win Sunny back, Frankie had gone crazy distributing Young Adult books on train, tram and bus lines. Copies of Eleanor & Park, The Maze Runner, We Were Liars and even Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret now travelled the Melbourne public-transport network. With Cat on maternity leave, Frankie and Seb had full rein of the The Little Brunswick Street Bookshop (including organising that event with Maxine Beneba Clarke which Claud had said was totally out of their budget), and one or fifty ‘borrowed’ Young Adult books. Usually she would be embarrassed to walk around carrying piles of these books in her bag, but now she didn’t care. She cared only about winning Sunny back.
Frankie leaned back in her seat and watched the tram travellers, wondering where they were headed at the end of another week. A chubby man wearing large black headphones moved to the beat, holding the handrail. Probably off to a poetry slam at a bar in Footscray. Two schoolgirls crossed their legs identically on the seat in front of hers, chewing gum and twirling their hair. On their way to a friend’s house to watch the latest episode of Jane the Virgin. Was anyone watching her? wondered Frankie. Were any of her fellow commuters curious about where she was off to this Friday evening? Would they guess that she was on her way to open up the bookstore for her seventeen-year-old second-best friend, who had accidentally left his school bag there earlier in the day? She hoped she gave off a slightly less pitiful vibe than that.
Frankie took out her phone and refreshed the screen, flicking on and off the ‘silent’ button. Just in case someone called. Just in case he called.
At the same exact moment that she pressed the screen, a call came through, and Frankie accidentally slid her finger across the glass, accepting the call. ‘Hello?’ she heard someone call from the other end of the phone.
‘Uh, hello?’ she asked hesitantly, her heart skipping a beat. It sank when she heard a female voice.
‘Frankie! It’s Marie from Simon & Schuster! Sorry for calling so late, love,’ she hollered.
‘Uh, that’s okay. No problem. How are you?’ Frankie played anxiously with a hole in her stockings.
‘I’m great. I hope you are too. Anyway, down to business. I never received an email from you about turning your blog into a book. What are your thoughts? Shall we set up a meeting for Monday?’ she said chirpily.
Frankie hesitated. ‘Uh … I’m not sure I want to go ahead with it.’
‘With what, dear?’ Marie asked.
‘With the book. I don’t think I want to do anything with the blog. Due to, um, personal issues.’
‘Nonsense! Personal issues? What do you mean? Frankie, you’d be crazy to turn down an opportunity like this. Did I tell you we’re thinking international sales? Film options? The lot?’
‘Yeah. It’s just, there’s this guy …’ Frankie started.
‘A guy? Don’t tell me you’re considering putting your dreams on hold for a guy? Let me be frank, Frankie. This kind of opportunity only comes around once in a lifetime. No man is worth sacrificing your dreams. Trust me,’ she said, with a hint of bitterness in her voice.
‘I know, it’s just …’
Marie persisted, insisting on a ‘no strings attached’ meeting, just to meet the team and talk it all through. Backed into a corner, Frankie took a deep breath and, somewhat reluctantly, accepted.
‘Lovely! Have a fab weekend and see you Monday at eleven,’ Marie finished with a trill.
Somewhat overwhelmed and a little confused, Frankie tucked her phone back into her backpack, in between her copies of Red Queen and If I Stay, and slung her bag loosely over one shoulder as the tram pulled up at the Leicester Street stop. She walked swiftly towards the exit, dropping a copy of Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief on a spare seat on her way out.
‘Miss, you left your book!’ the man with headphones called after her a little too loudly. She turned to him, smiled, and said, ‘It’s not mine,’ as she stepped off. Huddling for a moment under the tram shelter, she took out a copy of Holes and placed it on the vacant seat. As she turned to leave, she stopped, frozen to the spot.
There it was, lit up in neon lights, even more beautiful than she had imagined. A striking watercolour painting of the gruesome scene from Romeo and Juliet, the words KIDNEY-CROSSED LOVERS emblazoned over the top. Sunny’s painting. Sunny’s ad. Even though she had seen him working on it for the last few months, it was startling to see it in public. It was so confronting, so arresting, so striking. Frankie felt her heart quicken.
Frankie took out her keys, fiddling with them as she walked down bustling Brunswick Street to the bookstore. She pulled down her beanie so it was covering her entire forehead, and wrapped her puffa coat tightly around her body, protecting herself from the chill. A woman in skyscraper heels and a barely-there black dress sashayed past her, blowing smoke in her face. As she approached the front door of the bookstore, she saw, with a touch of concern, that it was slightly ajar.
‘Hello?’ She called out hesitantly through the gap in the door. No response. Apart from her, only Cat and Claud had keys to the store. And I did leave my spare set at Sunny’s. She took in a deep breath of fresh air, pressed her keys between the knuckles of her right hand, placed her left hand on the cool glass of the door and slowly edged it open.
‘Hello? Is there anyone in here? I’ve got a weapon!’ she called out. She smelled fire. Shit. Arsonists? She took out her phone to call the police, as she crept inside.
The bookstore lit up before her. Hundreds of tea-light candles lined the floor and benchtops, flickering wildly, and among them lay a trail of rose petals leading towards the Romantic Fiction aisle.
Sunny? Has he found one of my books? Is this his romantic reply? Her heart raced as she made her way along the floral path. She turned into the row of shelves and found a shadow kneeling in a bed of petals.
‘Sunny!’ she called.
The body before her stirred and looked up. It took a moment for Frankie to make sense of what she was seeing.
‘Seb? What are you doing?’ Frankie stuttered.
Seb wore a suit that looked two sizes too big, and his usually scruffy hair was combed back. ‘Frankston Rose,’ he said, then cleared his throat, still kneeling on the floor, the glimmer of the candlelight dancing wildly between them. ‘You’re weird and nerdy and ridiculously awkward.’ Frankie stared, her mind racing as she tried to hear his words and understand what was actually happening. ‘But so am I,’ Seb continued. He was looking down at the floor, as if trying to remember lines for a school play, his hands shaking. ‘The last two years have been the best of my life. And that’s because I’ve been able to spend them coming into this bookstore with you. Seeing your face, listening to your stories and hearing your nonsensical reasons why romantic literature is better than sci-fi – well, they’ve been the highlights of my days. I know there’s a lot of things pulling us apart, but, Frankie, there’s so much that’s holding us together.’ Frankie looked wildly around for support, but neither Jane Austen nor any of the Brontës could help her now. ‘I guess what I’m trying to say is: Frankie, I’m in love with you. Completely and utterly. And in the words of Jane, “I have loved none but you”.’ Seb slowly stood up, holding onto the bookcase to steady himself.
What the hell am I going to say? screamed Frankie’s inner voice. Why did he have to do this? Oh Sunny, why isn’t this you? This is supposed to be you! Seb was fidgeting with his oversized tie, staring at her in anticipation.
‘Seb,’ she said finally, in a voice she hoped sounded neither unpleasant nor eager. She edged back towards the front counter, giving herself a moment to compose her thoughts. Seb slowly followed, pressing his back against the firm wooden bench
‘I love you too, you know I do,’ Frankie finally said, taking a deep breath. ‘You add sparkle to my days, you really do. But I’m eleven years older than you. You’re like the brother I never had. And … you know I’m in love with Sunny.’
‘Ouch.’ Seb jolted back like he had been slapped.
‘I’m sorry, Seb.’ Frankie looked down.
‘Hey.’ Seb paused. ‘You asked for a romantic gesture. At least I tried.’ He shrugged, but Frankie heard the tremor in his voice. ‘Looks like it’s a life of fake girlfriends for me!’
‘You made Celeste up?’ Frankie gawked at Seb, who was turning pinker by the minute.
‘Thought it might send you wild with jealousy! Nothing like a love triangle to get the juices flowing, eh?’ Seb said, faking nonchalance. Then he paused, and said sheepishly, ‘I’m going to get out of here, if you don’t mind. You right to clean up this mess, Frankston?’ He gestured to the candles and petals.
‘Sure, Seb. Anything for you.’
Seb slung a backpack over his shoulder and headed to the front door. ‘Hey,’ he said, turning around, ‘when I’m twenty-nine and you’re forty, call me.’ He winked, jingling the bell as he left.
‘So, that’s why he asked for my key.’ Cat laughed. Jin Soo (the baby, not the man) was wrapped in a light blue blanket and attached firmly to her right breast, greedily guzzling milk. Cat sat on her bed, wearing an entirely unbuttoned floral fleecy pyjama shirt, casually revealing both her breasts.
Frankie reclined beside her, staring in awe at the baby affixed to her best friend’s boob. ‘Oh, Cat. It was terrible. Poor Seb. I just don’t see how he could’ve thought—’
‘That you were remotely interested in him? He’s a completely deluded seventeen year old. You know, like we used to be?’ Cat stroked Jin Soo’s soft, black hair.
‘You know, I always thought he was gay.’
‘Me too. You never know, Frankie, maybe you just turned him.’ Cat laughed. Frankie swatted her lightly.
‘So, how are you feeling, you know, about everything?’ Frankie asked hesitantly.
‘Oh, you mean when am I going to tell my husband about my baby daddy? I’m not feeling too great about it, surprisingly!’ Frankie rubbed Cat’s arm to show her support. ‘Tell me about you. Any word from Sunny?’ Cat carefully switched Jin Soo to her other breast.
‘Nope.’ Frankie sighed. ‘I must’ve put out about a hundred books by now. All around his area. But no word. Surely he’s spotted one.’
Cat rubbed Frankie’s back with her spare hand. ‘Give him time, Frank. Embrace your scars and give him time and space.’
‘That sounds like a quote from a Cormac McCarthy book,’ Frankie said as she rolled her eyes.
‘It’s not, but I thought it would make me sound smart.’ Cat grinned.
Frankie jumped at the sound of the front door slamming.
‘Claud’s home,’ Cat said anxiously.
‘You haven’t told him yet, right?’ Frankie murmured.
‘No, but I feel like he might be finally catching on.’
‘How’s my little James?’ Claud waltzed into their bedroom, cheeks flushed, and patted Jin Soo’s hair. A pair of knitting needles poked out of his bag.
‘His name is Jin Soo.’
‘I’m not calling my son Jin Soo,’ Claud bit back, the tension in the air as warm as ice.
‘How are you, Frankie?’ Claud turned to her, as if just noticing she was there. ‘I heard you might be getting published again. That’s great!’ He feigned a smile.
‘Oh well, I’m still sceptical. I have a meeting with my publisher Monday morning, so we’ll see.’ Frankie shrugged.
‘You do?’ Cat asked. ‘That’s so exciting, Frank!’
Frankie nodded nervously.
‘Baby James, you’re a hungry little one, aren’t you?’ Claud gushed over his son.
‘If you call him James one more time, I swear to God …’ Cat sighed.
Frankie picked up her handbag awkwardly, the weight of the books inside pulling heavily at her arm.
‘I better go,’ Frankie said, backing towards the door. Cat and Claud were mid-argument, now shouting about everything from circumcision to public versus private schools. They didn’t even notice her sneak out.
Frankie was standing on the Mind the Gap floor sign on the platform of Brunswick station reading aloud from Jandy Nelson’s I’ll Give You the Sun. She found herself mulling over a beautiful passage about slipping out of people’s lives and not being able to find a way back to them. It was one of the Young Adult books she had taken to plant on the train for Sunny to find, but having left her copy of Tin Man at home, she had started to read it as a last resort. She had skimmed the first few pages and instantly become addicted. Consumed by the flawless writing and underlying themes of first love, family and loss, she couldn’t deny that she was thoroughly enjoying this book. Damn you, Sunny.
The train pulled up at the platform, its engine slowing down in beat with the pace of her heart. As the doors opened she stepped forward, head still buried in the book. Her foot fell inelegantly through the gap in front of her, and she braced herself, ready to tumble forward. Just then, she felt strong hands catch her from behind, steadying her onto the train carriage. She turned around, butterflies rioting in her stomach. Sunny?
‘Mind the gap,’ the man, who was definitely not Sunny, said. He was handsome in a refined sort of way. Big black glasses framed his green eyes, his hair was combed neatly to the side and he was so tall he almost had to crouch to fit inside the train carriage. He was the sort of man Frankie would have swooned over. BS (Before Sunny), that is.
Frankie offered her thanks breathlessly, and went to sit down. The man followed, sitting opposite her. She returned to her copy of I’ll Give You the Sun, inhaling the words like the scent of freshly baked cookies.
‘Any good?’ the man inquired, nodding towards her book. She looked up, and saw that he was reading My Dear Cassandra. Frankie bit her lip. Of course he’s reading one of my favourites.
‘Yeah, it’s great actually. It’s a Young Adult book,’ she said.
‘Oh, that’s nice. I haven’t been able to get into any yet, but I’ve heard good things. I’m loving my book.’ He nodded towards My Dear Cassandra. He seemed to be itching to discuss it.
‘Never heard of it.’ Frankie shrugged, turning back to her novel.
‘Tickets please!’ She heard the shrill voice of a train inspector entering her carriage. She casually reached inside her bag for her train ticket. Shit.
‘Everything okay?’ the man asked.
‘My ticket, it’s in my other bag. I always do this!’ Frankie said, frazzled.
‘Oh dear,’ the man said unhelpfully.
Frankie looked around anxiously, thinking about the last time she was stuck on a train without a ticket. If only Sunny were here. She glanced at the man busily reading his book. I could do it right now. Just kiss him. Why not? she considered, and then buried the thought.
‘Tickets please,’ the inspector instructed, standing in front of her and the man. The officer’s dark brown hair, speckled with grey flecks, was tied in a tight bun on top of her head. She scowled at them both, as if challenging them to fail her.
The man took his ticket unhurriedly from his wallet, and handed it over to the woman. As she returned it, he thanked her and then looked down, avoiding all eye contact with Frankie. Well, thanks for nothing.
The inspector turned to Frankie with one hand outstretched expectantly and the other resting on her hip. Frankie searched through her bag, pretending to look for the ticket she knew wasn’t there. The man coughed, embarrassed, and looked out the window. Goody two shoes. ‘Uh, look. I’m really sorry. I must’ve left my ticket at home—’ Frankie began.
‘Stop right there!’ The inspector held up her hand, making Frankie flinch. ‘I know you,’ the woman said animatedly. ‘You’re Period Girl! My daughter and her friends were obsessed with your video. Forget about the ticket. Can I get a selfie?’