Free Frankie by Shivaun Plozza Page A

his shoulder and faces Xavier.
    â€˜You call
this
keeping a lookout?’ He flicks a hand in my direction.
    Apparently I’m a ‘this’.
    Xavier shrugs. ‘Told you it was a bad idea coming here, Nate.’
    So poser-boy is called Nate. He points to the duffle and grins. ‘Yeah? Cos I reckon it was a brilliant idea.’
    I’m five or more steps behind everyone else but as I’m looking between my brand-new baby brother and this black-clad skinny guy I’m joining the dots. Suddenly my brother’s incessant brick-wall staring is making a whole lot more sense.
    My jaw drops. ‘Shut the fuck up.’
    Xavier shoots me a sheepish grin. ‘Don’t say fuck.’
    Nate’s duffle bag makes a loud clatter as he adjusts it higher on his shoulder. ‘If you’re done with your mothers’ club meeting maybe we can split?’
    â€˜Are you serious?’ My voice is high-pitched and squeaky. But Xavier won’t look at me.
    Nate rolls his stupidly blue eyes. ‘It’s not exactly the done thing to hang around for a chat after –’
    â€˜Oh I can tell you’re an in and out kind of guy,’ I say. ‘Done in three seconds.’
    The duffle bag slips off Nate’s shoulder as he steps toward me. He’s centimetres from my face and way taller than I first thought. Maybe not so scrawny either. I back up.
    â€˜What are you inferring?’
    â€˜I’m not inferring anything; I’m implying it.’
    â€˜What’s that mean?’
    â€˜Steal a dictionary and work it out for yourself.’
    â€˜If I were going to steal a dictionary it would be to shove it up your –’
    Xavier grabs Nate’s arm. ‘That’s enough. This is my sister.’
    â€˜Like I give a shit who she is.’ Nate shrugs free. ‘Just make sure she keeps her mouth shut.’
    He stands there, framed by Jackknife’s logo. It’s like some sort of crazy aura.
    â€˜Well, I care who
you
are. Xavier’s just turned fourteen and you’re dragging him along on a felony. Who does that?’
    Nate covers his mouth with a gloved hand, eyes wide. He looks like a puppy that took a dump on a brand-new carpet. For a second anyway. ‘You mean I missed his birthday? Now I feel
awful
.’
    Give the man an Oscar.
    â€˜Grow a brain,’ he says. ‘You think I had to twist your brother’s arm?’
    I glare at Xavier. I wouldn’t exactly call his expression ‘innocent’. I’d go for ‘guilty as sin’. Or ‘Jesse James’s got nothing on me’.
    â€˜We should split,’ Xavier says. He’s backing away, tugging on Nate’s arm. He couldn’t be in a bigger hurry to get out of here. It might have something to do with the whole being-in-the-middle-of-a-burglary thing or maybe he just doesn’t want to have ‘the conversation’ with me. The ‘oh, didn’t I mention I’m a criminal?’ conversation. The ‘well, you can’t fight genetics’ conversation. The –
    The penny drops. It falls from the bloody Eureka tower and lands on my head. ‘Oh my god. The vinyl.’
    â€˜Frankie . . .’
    â€˜You didn’t swap it for four Eminem CDs, did you?’
    â€˜I swear I bought it, Frankie. Legit.’
    â€˜Swear? On our mother’s life?’
    He winces. ‘Honest, Frankie. I bought it from that shop. The one on Smith Street. Paid heaps.’
    â€˜Then why did you tell me your mate swapped it?’
    â€˜Cos I didn’t want you to know how much I paid for it.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because then you’d think I was desperate for you to like me!’ His voice echoes through the alley, the sound as cold and as sharp as the air. He rubs his face, both hands. ‘I mean, shit. How lame is that?’
    I swallow.
Don’t believe him, don’t believe him, don’t believe