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“Sorry,” I said, watching the cheerleaders happily jog across the street, energized from their confrontation

Frankie frowned and perched her hand on the curve of her hip “Why are you apologizing? I’ve told you a hundred ti crap fro does not ith bullies like that Believe me, I know”

“Only three ar from my hands

Frankie sighed and looked at the ceiling with a sigh “I rehts ofto be experienced It was all ahead oftwenty-one” The dreamy look in her eyes faded, and she cleaned the counter “One night with Shane was all it took to make it disappear Seven years later, I’h school” She shook her head and laughed once, scrubbing a stubborn piece of dried chocolate off the counter “I wouldn’t trade h”

One corner of my mouth turned up as I watched Frankie mull over the decisions that kept her at the Dairy Queen She counted herself lucky to have a job The oil co jobs left with it, so a paycheck fro town

The phone rang, and Frankie answered it “No, Keaton, you can’t eat the peanut butter out of the jar Because I said If you’re starving, then eat a banana Then you’re not starving! I said no, and that’s that Put Nana on the phone Hi, Mama Okay Same as always How about you? Good No, Kendra has dance at six Kyle has T-ball at seven” She sht Love you, too Bye”

She hung up and turned to e look on my face

“Did you lose one?” I asked

Frankie chuckled “No The baby’s asleep, thank the lord”

She wiped the counters again, and I cleaned up theSonny’s banana split Blizzard Our Dairy Queen was housed in one of the ss in Blackwell, a tiny speck on the Oklahoma map The owners, Cecil and Patty, were more than happy to let out-of-towners stop to take pictures of their unique fifties-style building Patrons could order fro s in the front, or the drive-thru on the south side There was barely room for Frankie and me to move around, and we often bumped into each other e had a rush of custo fair week A lone shaded bench was placed on the side of the building for customers anted to stick around to eat their dip cones or hot dogs, but it was usually empty

“Oh, goody Practice is over,” Frankie said, watching the various cars and trucks belonging to the baseball tearavel lot across the street Several of them drove into the DQ and parked, a dozen sweaty boys hopped out and walked across the asphalt to myFrankie opened hers, and two lines formed

Weston Gates had to lean down to look at y, brown strands of hair, still ith perspiration His dark gray T-shirt read Blackwell Maroons Thehis now fourth year of high school football, basketball, and baseball His father was a jock at Blackwell high school, too, and his mother and older sister Whitney were both head cheerleaders Whitney was now in her second year of college at Duke University, going for her law degree, and she rarely came home I didn’t know her well, but she had beautiful, kind eyes, just like Weston