“Ah, bollocks to the game,” I say, shaking my head. “I’d miss a thousand games, Claire. That’s what brothers are for. If that prick touches you again, I’d do it again.”
“It was my own fault for being stubborn about the seat.”
“It wasn’t,” I insist. “What did Lynch say to you?”
Claire shrugs, her voice small. “Just that I was a good kid and smarter than to be in the middle of such a mess.”
“He’s right. You are.”
“I’m sorry, Niall.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulder, encasing her in a hug. “Don’t be, Clairey. I mean it.”
26
Boys are so... ugh!
Molly
October, 2007
IT'S NO FAIR, I wanna come,” Lorraine whines as I set a little bowl of food down for Penelope.
“It’s far away, Rainey,” I reason. “And Mom has to work, so you’ll stay home with Jamie.”
The away game against Stratford was the farthest we had gone yet. So far our only away games had been neighboring towns, but Stratford College was one of the bigger schools in Dublin. According to the boys, they had a huge campus and an even bigger ego. It was a private school, and all the guys there were apparently all egomaniacs of some kind.
“Can’t Jamie just bring me?” she asks. Her logic is always pretty sound for a little kid, unfortunately for me.
No, Jamie can’t bring you because I don’t want Jamie to come.
“Just stay here, okay?” I kiss the top of her head, fixing her wispy bangs so they fall more evenly over her forehead. “I’m spending the night with Claire, so I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she sighs, her voice clearly reluctant, but she goes back to eating her cereal.
Ever since that night—over two weeks ago now—that Niall kissed me, he’s basically vacated his brain. He hasn’t left mine though. The way he acted like nothing had happened at all was genuinely making me curious about whether or not I’d hallucinated the whole thing.
Had I? Have I turned crazy?
No. It totally happened. If ithadn’thappened, then Niall wouldn’t be acting all weird around me—which he was. The only type of communication we’d had (outside of awkward small talk) was him texting me every now and then about picking me up.
Like right now, when I pull my phone out of my pocket and see his name.
Niall
ill b at ur hse @ 9
After I decode the message (translation:I’ll be at your house at nine), I tuck the phone back in my pocket without shooting a text back, because Molly Lynnette Lockhart is an expert at the cold shoulder.
I get everything I’m gonna need for tonight from upstairs—my gear bag, an outfit to wear to the party the team is going to after the game for Niamh’s oldest brother Declan’s 19th birthday, an overnight bag for my sleepover with Claireafter—and head back down. My plan is to slip out the door and wait for Niall on the front stoop, but Jamie is just coming out of the kitchen as I come downstairs.
“Oh, hey, there you are,” she smiles. “Lorraine thought you already left.”
“Had to get my stuff,” I mumble, my usual form of communication with my mom and older sister. I ignore the way her face kinda falls, forcing myself to trudge forward and out the door.
“Have a good time,” I hear her call out behind me.
And maybe I slam the doora littletoo hard.