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Problem was, I could see the unimaginable sacrifices that would have to be made by my brother in order to make this work for us, and knew deep down in my heart that the probability of it actually going to fruition was slim.
Either way, the child inside of me clung to the promise for all it was worth.
And promises like that to girls like me were worth everything.
“Anyway, enough of the parental bullshit talk,” Joey said, looking up at my face. “Tell me how you know Johnny Kavanagh.”
“What?” I gaped down at him, startled by the sudden change in conversation.
It wasn’t uncommon for us to change the subject after a night like this and talk about ridiculous things. To others, it might seem strange that we were able to switch from serious, meaningful conversation to simple chitchat, but it was the norm for us.
We’d been dealing with our father’s bullshit our entire lives.
Changing subjects came naturally to us. It was a coping mechanism we had perfected down through the years: deflection and distraction. But asking me about Johnny? That threw me.
“Kavanagh,” Joey confirmed, eyes sharp and searching. “How do you know the guy?”
“He goes to Tommen,” I explained, grateful for the semidarkness so my brother couldn’t see how red my face had turned. “He’s, uh, in fifth year, I think?” I know. “And I’ve seen him a few times at school. He’s the one who knocked me out on my first day.”
Joey’s head snapped toward me. “It was Kavanagh who knocked you out?”
“It was an accident.” I quickly reeled off the familiar words I’d spoken time and again in the past month or so. “He made a bad pass, or kicked the ball wrong, or something like that. Anyway, he apologized like a million times, so it’s all good…” I finished with a big sigh, unwilling to provide any further information on the matter. “All over and done with.”
“Well, shit,” Joey mused, scratching his chest. “You’d think a guy in his position wouldn’t be making Mickey Mouse mistakes like that.”
“A guy in his position?” I remarked. “I’m pretty sure he’s not the only person in the world to kick a ball arseways.”
“No…” Joey shrugged. “Still though, I didn’t think they made those kind of schoolboy errors in the Academy.”
“Academy?” I exhaled a huff. “It’s called Tommen College, Joe. Not the Academy.”
“I’m not talking about your school, Shan,” Joey said. “I’m talking about the Academy—you know, the Institute of Further Progression. The Academy’s only a nickname.”
“What the hell is the Institute of Further Progression? And how do you know him?”
“Exactly what it sounds like: an institute for further progression,” he shot back sarcastically. “And everyone knows who Johnny Kavanagh is.”
I didn’t. I was baffled.
“Then why nickname it the Academy?”
“Because the Academy sounds better than the Institute.” Joey barked out a soft laugh. “You really have no clue who he is, do you?”
When I didn’t respond, Joey laughed again.
“That’s priceless,” he mused, clearly entertained. “You were driving around in his car tonight, and you didn’t even know.”
“Know what?” I snapped, feeling flustered and annoyed by my lack of comprehension.
Johnny’s earlier words floated into my head.
“I play… No, I mean I play…”
Dammit, I knew I had been making a fool of myself.
“What?” I demanded. “Is he a hotshot rugby player or something?”
Joey snorted loudly. “I can’t believe you don’t know.”
