Chapter 3
(All characters are at least 18 years of age.)
(22 October 2020: mostly rewritten.)
After lunch, Frank and John tidied the kitchen together. Frank, helpful and hard-working, scrubbed vigorously at crusted pans and washed more of the dishes and utensils than did John. All the while she acted the buffoon, just as John remembered her; she had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. She splashed him with water, pretending it was accidental, butt-bumped him when he was in her way, which was somehow most of the time, and kept up a stream of crude jokes and off-color stories about her friends. The time passed much faster than if he had been cleaning up by himself.
"It's like the last two years never happened," thought John happily to himself. The awkwardness they had both felt only a few short hours ago seemed already to be a distant memory.
"Hey, you wanna play some ball?"
This meant basketball. John's stomach, stuffed with food, heaved at the thought. The only sport he truly enjoyed playing was baseball, which was also the only sport he liked watching. Frank disliked baseball; she did not consider it to be a true sport. There had once had a protracted debate on the subject. John and Debbie, both avid Brewers fans, took up the pro-baseball side, while Frank represented the contrary position. As John recalled, both camps declared victory in the end.
"Sounds good," John said, in answer to Frank's question. He tried keeping his voice bright-sounding even as he considered the soul-crushing pummeling he was about to receive on the unforgiving concrete court.
"Sweet, let's get changed!"
Frank was already wearing proper basketball shorts and shoes, so John assumed she must want to change her top. He, on the other hand, needed to change into his workout clothes and tennis shoes, the closest he could come to wearing proper basketball gear.
On the way back to their respective bedrooms, Frank walked several paces ahead of him. His eyes were fixated on her butt, which swayed alluringly from side to side despite her unflattering, masculine garb. Frank did not close her door after she disappeared into her room.
"What is it about Frank and doors?" John thought. "Or, am I just paying more attention than I used to?"
John closed his own door and made sure it was fully shut, pulling the silver metal knob until he heard a telltale click. From his backpack he fished out tennis shoes, running shorts, and a white t-shirt.
Despite needing to swap out more items of clothing, John finished before Frank. He could still hear shuffling noises coming from her room as he departed his own. Figuring he had another minute or so, he returned to the kitchen, where he had earlier noticed a cooler bag and water bottles. The weather was still sweltering outside; they would need to stay hydrated.
"Wow even gay girls take a long time to get dressed," John thought, as he filled the bottles with ice and filtered water. Just then, Frank silently materialized in the kitchen holding a new-looking basketball. For reasons beyond John's comprehension, she had decided to exchange every item of clothing. The white cotton crew socks had been replaced by a pair of green-and-white striped over-the-calf compression socks. Her blue shorts had been swapped for otherwise identical black ones. She had also changed into one of her old practice shirts from the basketball team, a white and green tank top. John could see that she had swapped bras as well. The one she had inadvertently exposed during lunch was solid black, whereas this one was charcoal gray. She even had different shoes on, opting now for white Air Jordan's over the All Stars.
Frank noted the self-satisfied smirk on John's face and issued an ultimatum, "Don't say it."
"Don't say what?"
"'I thought butch dykes wouldn't take so long to get dressed'," Frank said, lowering her voice an octave in an accurate imitation of John's speech.
"What the fuck, dude," John said, "now you're reading my mind?"
Contrary to his words, John was far from surprised by Frank's display of cousinly telepathy. He burst out in laughter, directed mostly at himself. Frank tried to keep a straight face for a few beats, but then a huge smile broke out on her face. She had been smiling more, in the scant few hours since John's arrival, than she had over the previous seven days. As a reward, she went over to her chortling cousin, hugged him, and gave him another big wet kiss on his left cheek.
"Why do I keep doing that?" Frank thought. Meanwhile, out loud, she said, "Arright dude let's blow this Popsicle stand." Her mouth was inches from John's ear.
The two cousins left the house to find a basketball court. John assumed it would be easy to find an empty one. Surely only Frank could be obsessed enough to want to play outdoors in this heat. However, the first court they came to was already occupied with a big group of players. Most of them were tall, well-built, and shirt-less. John felt instantly nervous as he instinctively calculated that any one of them could beat the crap out of him. They also seemed to be experienced players, as far as he could tell.
To John's surprise, Frank showed no sign of being intimidated herself. She waited for the orange ball to go out of bounds, then, during the ensuing break in play, jogged up to one of the taller men. John had noticed this particular player barking out orders to the rest of his team. He was probably the de facto team captain. When the man saw Frank, his face broke out in a huge smile. His deep bass voice rang out, "Lil' Frankie!" He emphasized the "e" sound. A few others loudly echoed, "Frank-E, Frank-E!"
John, hanging back, was too far away to hear the ensuing conversation, which was being conducted at a lower volume. He could, however, see Frank and the captain perform a series of complicated, handshake-like gestures.
"I always mess up those sports handshakes," John thought. He was impressed with Frank's cool, confident demeanor.
Frank sauntered back. "They're going to be a while," she said, jerking her thumb over her right shoulder. "But I know another place we can check out. Nobody's usually there."
The pair walked deeper into the suburban neighborhood, down gently curved, tree-lined sidewalks. John was lost. Each block felt like a mile in the sweltering heat. Both Frank and John were drenched with sweat from head to toe. After a few minutes, they ran into a group of three young women walking in the opposite direction. Frank knew all three them, just as she had known some of the basketball players from earlier.
Frank introduced each young woman in turn. They had all graduated high school in the same class as Frank. Two of them were also inbound freshmen at the same local university that John and Frank were about to attend. John automatically estimated each woman's body measurements. These calculations were easy to make with accuracy, as the girls were minimally clad. In this hot weather, each had chosen to wear a bikini top and shorts.
