“Okay, so you’ll never guess what I just heard,” Lizzie declared when she found me in the sixth-year common room the following Monday morning. “It’s a good one. You’re going to love it.”
Now, I knew the sixth-year common room was strictly out of bounds for all of us fifth years, but they had the best facilities out of all six years at Tommen. When I was dropped off at school this morning at the crack ass of dawn due to Coach’s manic rugby training schedule, I had taken one look at the fifth-year common room and turned on my heels.
Both Gerard and Hugh, my usual spins to school, were currently running drills on the pitch, while I was taking full advantage of their fancy-pants digs.
The sixth years had the biggest common room, with the best plush leather couches, the best kitchenette, and they even had a flat-screen television in here, and their bathroom had shower facilities.
Sure, most of my friends were day-walkers since Tommen College was predominately a boarding school, which explained the extra home comforts littered throughout the grounds, but come on. This took extravagance to a whole new level. No wonder the enrolment fees cost an arm and a leg.
Glancing up from where I was smearing butter on a slice of toast, I arched a brow. “Is this your version of an apology for yesterday?” Purposefully keeping my tone void of emotion, I added, “Because you owe a few of those around the place, Liz.”
“Ugh. You know I hate that word. Besides, I’ve got something so much better than an apology.” Tossing her school bag on one of the couches, she made a beeline for the kitchen area. “Some juicy gossip.” Leaning against the counter that separated the kitchen area from the rest of the common room, she smirked. “About a certain curly-haired firecracker.”
“Me?” I squeaked. So much for my cool demeanor.
“You,” she confirmed with a smirking nod.
Tilting my head to one side, I studied her flushed cheeks, and the rare smile that was plastered to her face. “Okay.” Setting down my butter knife, I jokingly fake-bowed down to her with my hands. “You win, Medusa.”
Grinning victoriously, Lizzie snatched up a piece of toast and strolled over to our favorite blue couch. “So, when I was coming out of the bathroom in the sixth-year wing, I dropped my phone by the lockers and overheard a conversation between two lads,” she explained, taking a bite of buttery toast as she folded her legs crossways beneath her and got comfortable. “You have an admirer, Baby Biggs.”
My eyes widened. “I have?”
“Uh-huh.” Chomping down on another bite of toast, she plucked at a rogue thread on her navy school trousers. “Or should I call him an old flame?”
“Huh?” Confusion and curiosity sparked to life, and I made a beeline for the couch opposite her, toast forgotten. “I have an old flame?”
“Apparently so.”
“Oh my god. Who?” Excitement bubbled inside of me, causing my entire frame to squirm with anticipation. “What did you hear?”
“I’ll tell you when you close your legs, you big eejit,” she shot back, gesturing to where I was sitting cross-legged on the couch. “You’re in a skirt, Claire. The whole world can see the color of your knickers when you sit like that.”
“Oh please, we’re alone and I’m wearing black tights,” I grumbled, but begrudgingly complied. “How would anyone know?”
“True,” she agreed, polishing off the last bite of toast. “They’re pink – but true.”
“Come on, Liz!” I whined, drumming my hands on my lap. “Tell me what you heard.”
“Jamie Kelleher is planning on asking you out again.”
I stared blankly at her. “Come again?”
“Jamie Kelleher,” she repeated in a slow drawl, “wants to go out with you again.”
“He does?” My eyes widened. “Who said?”
“He said,” she replied. “He told his friend right outside by the lockers that he’s planning on asking you to the cinema.”
“Shut the front door!” I screamed, throwing my hands up. “Oh my God, why?”
“Maybe he wants a repeat performance,” she offered with a smirk. “One that Thor doesn’t sabotage.”
“But that was all the way back in second year. We were practically babies then.” A wave of mild hysteria washed over me. “And isn’t he going out with Chitra Govindarajan since last year?”
“Not anymore,” Lizzie explained. “She left for the University of Brighton at the end of the summer. They ended on good terms, though, which shows us that he knows how to treat a girl and isn’t a complete dog like the rest of them.”
“Except for when he tried to put his hand under my dress at the disco in second year,” I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. “And Gerard didn’t sabotage anything that night. He saved me.”
“Okay, well, like you said, that was a million years ago, and Jamie’s done a lot of growing up since then.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Liz,” I muttered, worrying my lip.
“He’s smart, he’s attractive. He’s single.” Beaming, she rubbed her hands together. “And best of all, he’s not a rugby player.”
“Doesn’t he play chess?”
She stared blankly back at me. “So?”
“Well, I don’t know anything about chess,” I blurted out, eyes widening. “Our friends play rugby.”
“Chess is a far superior skill.”
“But I don’t understand chess, Liz,” I tossed back, feeling flustered. “I understand rugby.”
“He’s a good egg, Claire,” she pushed. “And when he asks you out, I think you should go out with him.”
“Ew, no,” I strangled out, feeling my heart buck in protest at the mere thought. “I can’t go out with Jamie.”
“Why not?”
“Because I … ” Words failing on me, I tried again. “Because I’m … ”
“Waiting for him?” Lizzie shook her head. “You need to start living your life, Claire.”
“I live,” I started to defend when the door of the common room flew inwards, and a familiar face stalked inside.
“Speaking of another good egg who doesn’t buy into the patriarchy,” Lizzie acknowledged when Joey Lynch walked in, deep in conversation with two of his siblings – one of whom he was physically steering into the room by the scruff of the neck.
“What did I tell ya, kid?” he was growling. “Steer clear from Twomey.”
“Exactly,” Shannon added, hurrying along beside her brothers. “Don’t give him another reason to suspend you.”
“Listen, it’s not my fault that prick’s on our radar, Joe.” Looking like an incensed baby lion cub in the clutches of his alpha father, Tadhg broke free of his big brother’s hold and scowled up at him. “He’s clearly got it in for us.”
“That’s the cost of our last name, kid,” Joey shot back. “Get used to it.”
“It’s true,” Shannon agreed, nodding eagerly. “It’s not fair, but it’s the way life is for us at this school.”
“Not just at this school,” Joey offered evenly. “His name is going to follow you everywhere, kid, so you can either make peace with it, or do something about it.”
“And when he says do something about it, he doesn’t mean using your fists to do it,” Shannon added, worrying on her lip. “Fighting solves nothing, Tadhg.”
“Fighting solves nothing.” Bristling with barely concealed tension, Tadhg stalked over to the couches and sank down on the one next to me. “Don’t fucking patronize me.”
“Morning, Lynch family. How’s my favorite sibling trio?” I chirped with a grin. Digging Tadhg’s side with my elbow, I winked at him. “How’s your day going, troublemaker?”
Tadhg grinned back at me. “A lot better for seeing you, blondie.”
“Sorry about bringing him in here, guys, but we didn’t have a choice.” Still worrying her lip, Shannon rounded the couches and flopped down next to her brother. “Apparently, trouble follows him like a magnet.”
“Sounds familiar,” Lizzie drawled. “How’s it going, Joe?”
“Morning,” Joey acknowledged. Chewing on a hard-boiled sweet like a madman, he dropped his bag down on the couch next to her before making a beeline for the kitchen area.
I didn’t have to look over to know what Joey was doing. He performed the same routine every morning since he arrived at Tommen. Boiling the kettle, he prepped his morning fix of coffee, adding three huge spoons full of instant granules to a mug right along with half a bag of sugar. No milk. No cream.
Returning to the couch with his mug, he sank down on the couch next to Lizzie and stirred his coffee with a ferocity that assured the rest of us that he was privately battling another craving.
It wasn’t nice to know that Joey ached so badly on the inside, to witness him battling the demon of addiction that almost destroyed him, but it was incredibly fortifying to see him kicking said demon’s ass daily and coming out on top.
I’d quickly learned that when it came to addiction, the future was never set in stone, but Joey was winning the war against his mind one day at a time and that’s all anyone could hope for.
“I’d be a lot better if I didn’t have to constantly watch that hothead’s back.”
“Oh, please,” Tadhg snorted. “Like you’re in any position to judge me.”
“It’s because of my position I can judge you,” Joey countered evenly. “Don’t be me, kid. Be better.”
That seemed to quieten Mr. Attitude because instead of tossing back a sharp comeback, Tadhg folded his arms across his chest and scowled at the floor instead, clearly deep in thought.
“How’s the fam, Joe?” I asked, steering the conversation to safer waters, while offering Shannon’s super-hot brother a bright smile.
“All good.”
“Any new pics of the main man?”
“Oh, I have loads,” Shannon blurted and then thrust her fancy pants phone into my face. “See his little smile in this one?” she gushed, pointing to an angelic-looking cherub with a huge gummy smile. “Isn’t he the most beautiful creation your eyes have ever seen?”
“Definitely,” I agreed eagerly.
“He clearly gets it from his mam,” Lizzie drawled.
“Clearly.” A faint smile teased Joey’s lips, but it was almost impossible to see because he had the ultimate poker face. He didn’t show emotion. He didn’t divulge information either. Gerard might have walls erected around his heart, but Joey Lynch’s walls were built from the blueprints of the Great Wall of China.
Regardless, he seemed to have a strange comradery with our angsty-friend. Their subconsciouses probably bonded over their mutual hatred of all things human.
“Yeah,” Tadhg chimed in with a grumble. “Because his dad looks like shit.”
“Oh, shush you,” Shannon scolded.
“I could say the same to you,” Tadhg clapped back with a scowl. “All I fucking hear these days is your voice.”
“Tadhg.”
“Johnny, oh Johnny, yes,” he mimicked his sister’s voice. “I love it when you rub your big oval rugby balls all over my face.”
“Tadhg!”
“So, when’s baby AJ’s christening?” I threw my bestie a lifeline by asking.
“No idea.”
“You don’t know?” I gaped at him. “Joe, he’s almost two months old already.”
“Yeah,” Shannon agreed. “And Nanny Murphy told us that babies should be christened before they are four weeks old.” Shrugging, she added, “Just in case.”
“So?” Lizzie was quick to defend. “Not everyone buys into that crap, girls.”
“Into what crap?”
“The church.”
“Oh my God.” I gaped at her. “You did not just say that.”
“I did,” she replied breezily. “And would you look, I haven’t been struck down by fire bolts, either. Funny that, huh?”
“Nice,” Tadhg chuckled in clear agreement.
“Well, I believe,” I declared.
“Good for you. Believe in whatever you want. Just don’t ram it down my throat and we’ll be golden,” Lizzie countered. “Besides,” she continued, clearly irked with something I said, “in my humble opinion, it’s a lot easier to believe in God when you haven’t been faced with a reason not to.”
“Jesus, I’m so glad I have a son,” Joey muttered under his breath. “Teenage girls are a whole different life force of their own.”
“You sure about that, Joe?” Tadhg teased. “He might turn out like me.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” Joey replied breezily. “You were a dream to toilet train.”
Tadhg’s face turned bright red. “You did not fucking say that in company.”
“There’s no talking me down this time, lads. I mean it. I quit,” Gerard’s familiar voice filled the air moments before he barreled into the common room, freshly showered, and kitted out in his school uniform, minus the jumper. “I refuse to partake in another pukefest of a training session at the hands of that sadist.”
“Oh great,” Tadhg deadpanned “Fatty’s here.”
“What did I tell you about calling me fat,” Gerard shot back, not missing a beat. “I’m big-boned, you little shit.”
“Don’t fight with the first year, Gibs.” Johnny, who was also missing his jumper, sauntered in after him. “And cool your jets on the whole resignation saga, you gobshite. Training wasn’t that bad.”
“Great,” Lizzie muttered, folding her arms across her chest. “Captain Fantastic and his freakshow sidekick.”
“Wasn’t that bad?” Tossing his schoolbag on the floor, Gerard turned to gape at his friend. “I’m chapped! Down there, Jonathan. My ball sack is chapped, I tell you!”
“I told you not to pierce it, Gerard, but did you listen to me? No. No, of course you didn’t. Instead, you went right ahead and pierced it three more bleeding times!”
“I was completing my ladder.”
“Your ladder is a liability!” Johnny shot back, sounding just as invested in their conversation as Gerard was. “And what did I tell you about using the talcum powder? The medicated one I had after the surgery. Use generously. Before and after training, Gibs. Every session.”
“It makes me sneeze, Cap.”
“You’re not supposed to smell it, Gibs, you’re supposed to pour it on your groin and thighs.”
“You don’t smell it?”
“No, lad, I don’t smell my balls,” Johnny deadpanned before walking over to the couch and sinking down next to my bestie. “Hi, Shannon,” he said in a much softer tone, as he leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Hi, Johnny,” she replied, cheeks turning bright pink.
“No, not your balls,” Gerard continued animatedly, as he climbed over the back of the couch and flopped down beside me. Ruffling my curls, he draped an arm over my shoulder before continuing. “The powder before you put it on your balls. Don’t you smell the powder?”
“Jesus Christ, give it a rest, will ye?” Patrick growled, strolling in behind them with my brother. “I feel like I know more about the two of your bollocks than I do my own.”
“That’s because you don’t have a clue what to do with your own bollocks.”
“That’s not what your mother says.”
“Don’t even think about bringing my mother into this.”
“Can we not?” Hugh snapped, joining everyone at the couches. “For one damn morning, lads?”
“I complained about my genitals one time, Patrick,” Gerard huffed. “I didn’t make a big hullabaloo out of it like a certain captain we all know.”
“True that.”
“But it was a good night in Dublin.”
“It was eventful to say the least.”
“Hey!” Johnny snapped. “That wasn’t my bleeding fault.”
“Then whose fault was it, Kav?” Gerard demanded. “Mine?”
“Yes,” both Hugh and Patrick chorused.
“And you think I have problems,” Tadhg drawled sarcastically. “Tell you what, Joe, I’d rather be a Lynch than a bitch any day.” With that, he hitched his bag over his shoulder and sauntered out of the common room, flipping the bird as he went.
Gerard turned to look at me. “Did he just call us bitches?”
“I think so,” I replied, stifling a laugh.
“The cheek,” he huffed before standing up and prowling towards the fridge. “Jesus, I’m starving.”
“You’re in trouble with that one, Lynchy.”
“Don’t I know it,” Joey muttered, popping another hard-boiled sweet into this mouth.
“That’s not your food, Gibs,” Johnny called out.
“Possession is nine tenths of the law, Johnny,” Gerard replied, as he busied himself with peeling the name label off a tinfoil-covered bread roll. “Unlucky, Robbie, lad – ah, score! Chicken and stuffing!” Grinning in delight, he ripped the tinfoil off and took a huge bite. “Get in my belly.”
“You’re lucky you’re in Tommen, lad,” Joey stated, looking mildly entertained. “Because if you pulled that stunt at BCS, they’d take your life for it.”
“They’d take my life for a chicken and stuffing roll?”
“They’d take your life for just thinking about it, lad.”
“So, you never took something from the fridge at BCS that wasn’t yours?”
“Fridge?” Joey snorted. “We were lucky to have lunchboxes, never mind fridges.”
“Jesus.”
“Guess who has an admirer,” Lizzie offered then, causing all heads to turn in her direction.
“Who?” everyone chorused in unison.
“Claire.”
“Wow, Liz, thanks,” I groaned, feeling everyone’s eyes land on my face. “This is all according to Lizzie,” I was quick to explain, feeling my cheeks flood with heat.
“And no, before any smart ass says it, it’s not Thor,” she continued, enjoying this way more than necessary. “It’s Jamie.”
“Jamie?” Hugh was quick to ask, brotherly detective skills activated. “Who … ”
“ … the fuck is Jamie?” Gerard filled in, turning to stare expectantly at me.
“Jamie?” Shannon asked, looking momentarily confused before her lips formed the perfect o-shape. “Oh … that Jamie.”
“Jamie Kelleher?” Johnny furrowed his brows. “From our year?”
“No clue, lad,” Joey replied, sounding entirely uninterested in the conversation, as he stuffed a rogue pacifier back into his pocket and retrieved a hard-boiled sweet instead.
“Hold the phone!” Hugh’s brows shot up as awareness dawned on him. “Jamie Kelleher! As in the same Jamie you went out with for like a day in second year?”
“It was two weeks, and yep,” Lizzie replied with a smile. “Apparently, he’s planning on asking your baby sister to the cinema.”
“Jamie,” Gerard reiterated, unsmiling, as he bore holes into the side of my face with his steely gaze. “Jamie the handsy prick I had to put in his place at the disco?”
“No one asked you to do that, asshole,” Lizzie spat.
“She did,” Gerard countered, pointing a finger at me, as his eyes danced with unconcealed frustration. “She asked me to.”
He was right.
I did ask him to save me that night.
“Don’t even think about ruining this for her,” Lizzie warned. “I’m telling you now, Thor, I will rain hell down on you if you pull any tricks—”
“Jesus Christ, stop talking to me, will you?” Gerard shot back, holding a hand up. “I’m trying my hardest to follow the rule here.”
“The rule?”
“Yeah, the rule,” he snapped back. “The ‘if you have nothing good to say, say nothing’ rule.” Bristling, he pushed a hand through his blond hair before adding, “Trust me when I say that I have nothing good to say about you, viper, so just let me eat my stolen food and ignore you in peace, dammit!”
“Oh my God, guys, stop,” I interjected with a nervous chuckle. “He hasn’t even asked me yet.”
“Yet,” Gerard bit out, still staring at me.
“I mean it, Thor,” Lizzie argued. “Don’t even think about making her feel bad for this.”
“Again?” a familiar voice groaned, and I turned to see Katie strolling into the room. “Do you two ever stop fighting?”
“That depends,” Lizzie countered, turning her dagger on my brother’s redheaded girlfriend. “On whether or not I have another opponent.”
Katie looked around in confusion before pressing a hand to her chest. “Me?”
“Are you offering?”
“No, she’s not,” Hugh cut in, moving to intercept his girlfriend before trouble found her. “Stop it.”
“Too bad,” Lizzie replied breezily.
“Are you honestly considering going out with that eejit?” Gerard asked, recapturing my attention once more. His tone, for once, was serious, and his gray eyes held none of their usual twinkling mischief. He took another wolfish bite of Robbie’s roll before adding, “I mean, seriously?”
“He hasn’t even asked me,” I tried to placate at the same time Lizzie shouted, “Yes, she is!”
A perfectly aimed sweet smacked Gerard upside the head, and I turned just in time to see Joey offer Gerard what looked like a coded wink. “Come on, Gus,” he said, standing up. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
“Good fucking plan, Lynchy,” Gerard huffed, dropping his food onto the counter, and stalking off in the direction of the door. “Good plan indeed.”
“Oh no, no, no! Don’t even think about it.” Springing to his feet faster than any boy his size should be able to, Johnny chased after them. “I know what your version of fresh air is and I’m telling you now, Gibs, I will make you pay for every one of those filthy cigarettes on the pitch.”
