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He nodded. “Go get your clothes on. I’ll call a taxi.”
“What about Mr. Mulcahy?” Claire added, worrying her lip. “He and Mrs. Moore said we’re not allowed to leave our rooms.”
“Coach can kiss my lily-white ass,” Gibsie shot back without hesitation. “That’s my best friend lying in a hospital bed, babe.”
“But, Gerard, it’s only six in the morning,” Claire added, sounding concerned. “And I don’t want you to get into trouble…” She paused to look at me. “Either of you.”
“In the words of the late great Freddie Mercury: ‘Don’t stop me now,’” he told her. “Just go back to bed and I’ll text you in a bit.”
“Shannon, don’t go,” Claire turned to me and said, eyes filled with concern. “If you get caught, and they tell your father—”
“I’m going,” I croaked out, stopping her before she could finish that sentence.
I knew what would happen. I also knew that it would happen regardless. I was here in Dublin when I was supposed to be at home. He was going to kill me anyway.
I had to go.
Hurrying back into the room, I threw my uniform back on—not easy in the dark and with sleeping roommates—and then quickly rushed back out to the hallway to where Claire was still standing with Gibsie.
“You take care of her, Gerard Gibson, do you hear me?” she was hissing. “Don’t leave her on her own at any time for any reason. And if you get caught, then you take the rap, okay? I don’t care what you have to do, but you figure something out so she doesn’t get blamed for this—”
“Little Shannon,” Gibsie announced, nudging Claire’s shoulder to alert her to the fact that I was back and could hear them.
“Hi,” I breathed, smoothing down my coat.
“Ready for a jailbreak?” he added with a grin.
I looked to Claire, who was worrying her lip and shaking her head, before turning back to Gibsie.
Forcing the image of my father’s face from my mind, I exhaled a ragged breath and nodded. “I’m ready.”
65Find the Girl
JOHNNY
When I opened my eyes, it was to a dark room and the sound of beeping monitors. Unsure of where the fuck I was, I automatically began to panic and tear at the wires strapped to my chest and arms. There were some stuck up my nose, too, and I smacked at them, trying to break free.
My hands felt strange—like they didn’t belong to me. My head felt the same.
My eyeballs were rolling around in my head of their own accord. Seriously, I couldn’t get a handle on them.
I tried to focus, I tried real hard to make sense of my surroundings, but my eyes kept fluttering and the room was spinning.
Was I stoned? Did Gibsie get me high?
That bastard…
“Johnny—it’s okay, son.” My father’s voice came from close by. “Don’t be pulling at your IV. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Da?”
“I’m right here, son.”
The sound of a chair scraping off tiles filled my ears.
“Da,” I croaked out, calming when I felt his warm hand cover mine. “Where am I?”
I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was close. His voice was right there by my ear, making me feel safe. His hand touched my forehead, brushing my hair back, just like he used to do when I was small.
