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I stared blankly back at her. “Huh?”
“For god’s sake, Claire,” Lizzie groaned. “I can’t believe you didn’t let her know!”
“I thought she knew!” Claire replied, red-faced. “I’m sorry, Shan. I thought you knew the game was today.”
“No, no, no,” I spluttered. “The Donegal match isn’t until after the holidays.” Which were supposed to start today. “Remember?”
“Royce College won their last three games,” Lizzie told me, tone laced with sympathy.
Apparently, I looked as stumped as I did petrified because Lizzie didn’t dish out the sympathy gazes for nothing.
“Winning their last game put Royce College second on the table with Tommen,” she hurried to explain. “Royce and Tommen are having a playoff today to see who gets to play Levitt in the final.”
I pinched my nose, struggling to comprehend what I was being told. “But we’re supposed to be going to Donegal after Easter!”
“There won’t be a Donegal trip if the boys don’t win today,” Claire explained.
“Why didn’t you guys tell me about this?”
“We didn’t know for sure when the game would be held.”
“Why?”
“Because Royce were playing games,” Lizzie offered. “Making life awkward for Tommen in the hopes that Johnny wouldn’t be available.”
“What?”
“He has a schedule,” Claire explained. “Everything he does rugby-related has to run through the Academy.” Shrugging, she added, “I guess they were hoping to catch Tommen on a loop.”
“Which they didn’t,” Lizzie scoffed. “Unlucky for them.”
“Oh god,” I croaked out, flustered. “Where’s this happening?”
“Dublin,” Claire grimaced.
“I’m not allowed to go to Dublin.” My eyes widened. “If my father finds out—”
“It’s only a day trip,” she interrupted me to say. “Straight up and down. We’ll be home by ten.”
“Ten?” I whimpered. “Tonight?”
Oh god.
I was so dead.
“Guys, I can’t go,” I croaked out, panicking at thought of what my father would say if I came home at 10:00 p.m. “I don’t have any money and my parents don’t know—”
“Miss Lynch!” Mr. Mulcahy roared, cutting Claire off and drawing everyone on the bus’s attention to us. “Sit down!”
“I’ll move,” Lizzie interjected, rising up. “Shannon, you can sit here—”
“Sit down, Miss Young,” Mr. Mulcahy snapped. “Miss Lynch is the one throwing us off schedule with her poor timekeeping skills. She can find herself a seat.”
“It’s okay,” I choked out, mortified. “I’ll find a seat.”
“Today would be great,” he grumbled.
With my head down, and Mr. Mulcahy’s impatient voice in my ear, I had to do the dreaded walk of shame, shuffling down the center aisle with my schoolbag on my back, peeking from side to side to see if there was a free spot.
