CHAPTER NINETEEN
GOTTA BOLT
Plan A was ready for activation. After a week of intense prepping and planning, it was the most respectable way for Frankie to get to the September Semi. But it wasn’t the only way.
“Mom, Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked, fresh from her evening charge and aromatherapy seam-steam.
They were on the sofa, listening to jazz and reading by the fire. Their Fierce & Flawless had been removed, and their neck bolts were exposed. Dinner had been made (thanks to Frankie), the dishes had been cleaned (thanks to Frankie), and there had been no indiscretions for seven whole days (thanks to Frankie).
It was time.
“What’s up?” Viktor put down his medical journal and took his worn UGGs off the ottoman: an invitation to sit.
“Um…” Frankie felt her neck seams. They were loose and relaxed from their steam.
“Don’t tug,” Viveka warned. Her violet eyes ripened to an eggplant purple against her green skin. It seemed criminal that others couldn’t enjoy how naturally beautiful she was.
“Are you nervous about something?” Viktor asked.
“Nope.” Frankie sat on her hands. “I just wanted to say that I thought a lot about my behavior last week and I agree with you. It was dangerous and insensitive.”
The corners of their mouths turned up just a smidge, as if they were unwilling to commit to a full smile until they knew where this conversation was going.
“Just like you asked, I came right home from school every day, I didn’t text, e-mail, tweet, or post on Facebook. And during lunch, I only spoke when spoken to.”
All of which was true. She’d even avoided eye contact with Brett. Which hadn’t been too hard, since Bekka had switched seats with him in science class.
“We know.” Viktor leaned forward and double-tapped her knee. “And we couldn’t be more proud.”
Viveka nodded in agreement.
“Thank you.” Frankie humbly lowered her eyes. One… two… three… GO!
“Sodoyouthinkyoucouldtrustmetogotothedancetonight?” she blurted before losing her nerve.
Viktor and Viveka exchanged a quick glance.
Are they considering it? They are! They trust—
“No,” they said together.
Frankie resisted the urge to spark. Or scream. Or threaten to go on a charging strike. She had prepared herself for this. It had always been a possibility. That’s why she’d read Acting for Young Actors: The Ultimate Teen Guide by Mary Lou Belli and Dinah Lenney. So that she could act like she understood their rejection. Act like she accepted it. And act like she would return to her room with grace. “Well, thanks for hearing me out,” she said, kissing them on the cheeks and skipping off to bed. “Good night.”
“Good night?” Viktor responded. “That’s it? No argument?”
“No argument,” Frankie said with a sweet smile. “You have to see this punishment through or you’re not teaching me anything. I get it.”
“O-kay.” Viktor returned to his medical journal, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
“We love you.” Viveka blew another kiss.
“I love you too.” Frankie blew two back.
Time for Plan B.
“All right, Glitterati,” Frankie said, taking her glitter-dusted confidants into the lounge area of the Fab. “This isn’t going to be pretty. Rules will be broken. Friendships will be tested. And huge risks will be taken. But they’re small prices to pay for true love and personal freedom, right?” She placed their cage on her orange-lacquered side table. They clawed the glass in agreement.
Blasting Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance,” Frankie tore open a box of hair bleach and painted chunky white streaks from her scalp to her ends. Spaced four inches apart, they would look just like her grandmother’s. While waiting for them to set, she reclined on her red pillow-covered Moroccan chaise and began texting Lala. “Here goes.” She sighed.
LALA: Yup. Cleo, Clawdeen, and
Blue r here. Love that ur txting again. 
Sure u can’t come over?
FRANKIE: punished 
“This is the semi-manipulative part,” Frankie told the Glitterati. “I’ve saved this secret all week, and it needs to be released.” She typed a message and then hit SEND. “Don’t judge me.”
FRANKIE: FYI my parents were at that new girl Melody’s last weekend for some wine-tasting party and heard she was going to Semi w/ Deuce.
LALA: FYI they rented that house from my grandparents, u know.
That was hardly the response she’d been hoping for.
FRANKIE: Cool about ur grandparents’ place. Think it’s true about Deuce? Does Cleo know?
Silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… It was 6:50 PM. The dance would be starting in forty minutes. Where was—
CLEO: Is this true?
She sat up. Yes!
FRANKIE: That’s what my mom said.
FRANKIE: Wanna bust them?
CLEO: Totally but we don’t
have costumes.
Yes! Yes! Yes! “It’s working!” Frankie told the Glitterati. She felt a certain degree of guilt for manipulating the situation. But everything she was saying was true. And her reasons for saying them were for her friends’ benefit as much as hers. Eventually, they would thank her. Everyone would. She just had to get them there.
FRANKIE: It’s Monster Mash! We were born in costumes! Amazing, glorious costumes.
FRANKIE: This is our big chance to see what people think of us. The real us.
FRANKIE: We have to show em there’s nothing to be afraid of.
FRANKIE: If we don’t get over our fears they never will.
It was time to take a break before her friends accused her of sounding like a bumper sticker. But it was hard not to preach. She had never felt so strongly about anything. Not even Brett.
Silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence…
“What are they doing?” Frankie lay back down and sparked.
Silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence…
CLEO: Aren’t u grounded?
FRANKIE: I’ll sneak out bedroom window.
Silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence…
LALA: Meet u at the top of Radcliffe in 5.
LALA: This better work.
FRANKIE:
She bicycled her moccasin-covered feet in the air. Yes! Yes! Yes!
Frankie blew a kiss to the Glitterati, turned off the music, and grabbed the garment bag she had pulled from the garage. Wearing nothing but sweats and a sheer coat of lip gloss, she wiggled through her frosted window and jumped the six feet to freedom, feeling more charged than a Visa card at Christmastime.