“I thought we were dead for sure,” Ollie said.
We were talking over some details on the phone later that day and Ollie was still riding the high of our first meeting with the Brasko twins. He kept going over everything that had happened, as if I hadn’t been there with him. It was actually kind of adorable.
There had been a time when I’d been new to it all too.
My mind started to drift to Dad, but I forced myself to refocus. There was no time for that at the moment. Right now, we had a heist to plan.
“Have I ever steered you wrong?” I asked Ollie as I folded up Brigeet’s costume and placed it in a bag in my thieves trunk, along with all my other personas. “Now, where to go from here…”
We went over the details of what I’d proposed to Emma and Sam, point by point, so we were both on the same page. Since their doc crew would be starting to film in two days, we had just enough time to get everything together in order to pull it off.
We’d be there when they started to film and be privy to everything that happened behind the scenes. I’d explained that we needed to see their entire journey in order to relay their transformation to our readers in a real and honest way.
So, they’d given us unfettered access to their property and themselves.
Which was exactly what we needed in order to find out where they were hiding the animals.
“Okay, I think that about covers it,” I said into the phone as I lay back on my bed, tired from all the excitement of the day.
“Frankie?” Ollie said just as I was about to hang up.
“Yeah, Ollie,” I answered.
“I really think I could handle a few lines next time,” he said confidently.
“Okay,” I said, yawning. “Say, ’Frankie is the best thief in the whole world’ with a French accent.”
“Frankee ease thee best thief een the whole wold,” he complied.
After a brief pause, I began to laugh loudly.
“What was that?” I answered, still cracking up.
“My French accent,” Ollie said.
“That is not a French accent,” I answered.
“It is!” he exclaimed. “I might not speak it fluently like you, but that was absolutely a French accent.”
I snorted.
“Maybe keep working on it,” I said, chuckling before hanging up.
There was a knock at my door and Uncle Scotty popped his head into my room.
“You watching a comedy show or something?” he asked.
“Something like that,” I answered with a smile. Then I held up my phone. “Ollie.”
Uncle Scotty nodded. “Ah, gotcha,” he concluded. “Dinner will be here in ten.”
“What are we having?” I asked as I ran my hand through my now short hair.
“Burgers,” he answered, but then looked concerned. “Unless you suddenly became a vegetarian on me.”
“I haven’t changed, Uncle Scotty!” I yelled playfully. “I’m the same Frankie I’ve always been, I promise! I’m just a bit, you know, lighter in the hair department.”
“If you say so,” Uncle Scotty said, before disappearing again.
“I do say so,” I said, turning the phone over and over in my hands.
I nearly jumped off the bed when it started to buzz.
I looked at the screen. It wasn’t Ollie. His number would’ve popped up on the display. This was a number I didn’t recognize. And it was from Colorado.
Did I know anyone in Colorado?
I considered sending it to voice mail, but my curiosity got the better of me, even though it was most likely just a telemarketing call.
“Hello? You’ve reached Domino’s Pizza, how can I feed you today?” I asked, sounding like a typical teen at a dead-end job.
There was silence on the other line, which I attributed to the caller thinking they’d dialed the wrong number, and it made me want to start laughing.
“Frankie?” the voice came out with a strong Scottish accent.
Ugh. I hated telemarketing calls.
“Who’s asking?” I asked, slightly annoyed.
“It’s Angus, lass.”
Angus? As in one of Dad and my former colleagues? The one I hadn’t heard from in over two years?
“What’s wrong, Angus?” I asked, suddenly filled with fear. Out-of-the-blue phone calls only happened when something was wrong, right? “I mean…how are you doing?”
Angus chuckled.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered. “Well, nothing’s wrong with me. It’s you I’m worried about.”
I let the breath I’d been holding in out, along with my anxiety.
“I’m fine, Angus,” I said, rolling my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “Why would you think something’s wrong?”
“Yer dad told me what happened—”
Wait…what?
“You talked to Dad?” I asked, surprised by this.
We’d gone our separate ways from Angus after our last heist together. Not because Angus was a bad guy or anything—he and my dad had been friends for over a decade, and at one point, I’d been closer to him than I had to Uncle Scotty—but because Dad had had a kid he was trying to raise solo, and Angus simply had a different thieving style. In the end, we’d said our “goodbyes” and “good lucks” and moved on to the next job without him.
And I hadn’t talked to him since.
Until now.
“Sure,” Angus said. “I’ve phoned him a few times since he’s been inside. Still the same old Tommy…”
“I don’t know about that, but okay,” I said, crossing my feet at the ankles angrily. As my dad’s friend, I was sure Angus would take his side of the argument. And I didn’t want to hear it.
“Well, look who’s grown some sass!” he said, letting out a low whistle. “Yer dad told me you were pipin’ mad. He feels bad, you know.”
“He should. It was his fault,” I said, knowing I sounded like a petulant child and hating it. “I mean, would you let him tell you what to do?”
There was a pause on Angus’s end.
“Well, no,” he answered slowly. “But to be fair, he isn’t me daddy now is he?”
I smiled, only because I knew he couldn’t see me do it.
“Lucky you,” I said sarcastically.
Speaking like this, it felt like no time had passed. Like he’d always been around. Like I could talk to him as the real me.
“He said I should just be normal, Angus,” I blurted out.
“Eeesh,” Angus said whistling low. “That’s rough.”
“That’s hypocritical,” I added.
“True,” Angus said. “But maybe he had his reasons, lass.”
“Like what?” I asked, more heat in my voice than I’d intended.
Angus, to his credit, only answered softly.
“It can be hard where he is, lass. He’s just tryin’ to keep ye safe.”
“By getting me to change who I am?” I asked him, still frustrated. “How can being normal possibly help me survive this place?”
“I imagine he thinks that if ye don’t get into trouble, he can keep you from a similar fate,” Angus said slowly.
“Maybe he should’ve started by taking that advice himself,” I said, grumpily. “It’s his fault I’m here in the first place!”
We both knew I didn’t mean it. That I didn’t actually blame Dad for ending up where he was.
“So, ye don’t like livin’ with yer uncle then?” he asked, sounding surprised.
I paused.
“I don’t mind Uncle Scotty, actually,” I said slowly. “It’s all the rest I guess.”
“So, what is it?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.
Should I tell him the truth? Would he understand? Was there even any point?
“I’m kind of just…lost?” I started, wading in slowly, like entering into cold water. “I can feel the old me slipping away, Angus. Little by little. And I don’t like it. I liked myself as Frankie Lorde, International Thief. I’m not really feeling Frankie Lorde, Middle Schooler. She’s so…uninspiring.”
“Now, that I disagree with,” he cut in forcefully. “You might be in a rut right now, but the thing that makes you the Infamous Frankie Lorde will always be there in ye.”
“I don’t know,” I said, not fully believing him.
“Yer dad mentioned ye pulled a job a few months back that helped a lot of people who needed it? That’s nothing short of inspiring. Sounds like yer changin’, but in a good way.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way before. That maybe I was changing, but for the better? My focus had been on others more than on myself since I’d moved here. But was that just me adapting to the change that was being forced on me by my uncle? Or was that me…growing up?
“I’m actually working a job now,” I added carefully. “Well, we just started it, really. Can I tell you about it?”
I said this tentatively, not sure if he wanted to listen to some kid’s amateur heist plan. But I’d been dying to talk to someone who knew about this stuff, and Dad hadn’t exactly been receptive. Maybe Angus could be my sounding board.
“Are ye crazy?” he answered.
My stomach dropped.
“Of course I do,” he finished.
I grinned and then flopped down onto my stomach on the bed and started to lay the whole plan out for him.
When I was done, he remained silent for just a moment before letting out a loud whoop.
“Yer really somethin’, aren’t ye,” Angus said.
“You think it’s good?” I asked, not realizing until now how much I wanted his approval.
“I think it’s great,” Angus answered, letting the word roll off his tongue. “I think the old Tommy Lorde would be proud of you.”
I felt the tears begin to sting my eyes and my throat started getting tight. Then, I forced it all down. The last thing I wanted was to become a blubbering mess over the phone—to another thief!
“Thanks, Angus.”
It was all I could get out without fully breaking down.
If he could hear it in my voice though, he didn’t let on, and I really appreciated it.
“Ye know, lass,” he said suddenly. “If yer really unhappy there, ye can always go on the road with me. I’m sure I could convince yer Dad to let ye.”
This was the last thing I’d expected to hear him say, and for one of the first times in my life, I was at a loss for words.
The idea of heading back out there and being a thief on the run again was certainly appealing. I missed traveling. I wouldn’t miss going to school. But could I really just up and leave? Cut ties with Uncle Scotty and Ollie and disappear?
But it meant me being me again.
“I know, I know,” Angus said, filling in the silence. “It’s a big decision. And one ye don’t have to make tonight.” “It’s a really great offer, Angus,” I said, not sure what to say. “Can I think about it for a bit? Get back to you when I’ve sorted things out?”
“Aye,” he answered. “Tell ye what. I’m headed in yer direction in a few weeks. Got a job up in Quebec I have to do. What do ye say, I stop by and see ye in person. It can be either a quick visit or a pick-up. No pressure.”
I let out a breath.
“That sounds good,” I said, relieved I had some time to make my decision. “Thanks again, Angus.”
“Yer always welcome, lass,” he said, and I could tell by the way he said it that he meant it.
“Talk to you soon,” I said before hanging up.
I sat there on my bed for a while, taking in what had just happened.
“Frankie!” Uncle Scotty’s voice called out from downstairs, jolting me out of my head. “Burgers are here!”
I’d completely forgotten about dinner.
“Coming!” I yelled back, and stood up, looking around the room.
I hadn’t had a place to call home for—I don’t know how long.
And now I was thinking of giving it up?
I shook my head.
I wasn’t going to make any decisions on an empty stomach. Choosing my path could come later.
After my burger and fries.