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I turned my bleary gaze on him, too drunk to mask my curiosity. “My Shannon?”
Hughie laughed. “She’s your Shannon now?”
I shrugged, too drunk to defend or deny.
“Gotta say, lad, I was relieved when you called the team on the pitch incident and nipped it in the bud,” Hughie said with a heavy sigh. “If you hadn’t, I would have. Poor girl deserves a break.”
I frowned. “You know her?”
“She’s been friends with my sister since they were small.”
“Claire,” I filled in, racking my brain for the information I needed. “The blond one in third year.”
“Yeah, lad.” Hughie took another sip from his glass before saying, “She was over at the house today, actually.”
“What?” I looked at him. “You never said.”
He shrugged. “Why would I?”
Good point.
“Lovely girl,” he added thoughtfully. “Horrible family.”
“What do you mean?”
Hughie shook his head but didn’t reply.
That bothered me for a whole host of different reasons. I didn’t like him knowing things about her that I didn’t.
“I’m going to go check on Precious in the bath,” he announced when he finished his glass. “And then I’m putting my head down for the night.”
“Take whatever room you want,” I mumbled, deep in thought.
Hughie placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Keep looking out for her, Cap,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “God knows someone needs to.”
And then he was gone.
10Boy’s Gonna Shine
SHANNON
On the last Friday in February, Tommen College was playing rival school Kilbeg Prep on the school grounds for the School Boy Shield. Because it was one of the few home games of the season left, and a prestigious cup to win, all classes were invited to attend to support their team.
According to Claire, the School Boy Shield that was up for grabs today was nowhere near as important or lucrative as the league cup the team would be playing for next month in Donegal, but it was still pretty silverware and Tommen loved silverware.
It didn’t take me very long at Tommen to realize that what my father had said about the school being a glorified rugby prep school was true. It was plain to see that everything revolved around the sport.
Personally, I could have thought of a million places I would have preferred to be than watching oversized boys from Tommen bulldoze their way through oversized boys from Kilbeg, but life had a funny way of screwing with a person.
Wrapped up in my winter coat and a woolly hat, I sat between Lizzie and Claire—who was draped in our school’s colors—grateful to have snagged a seat in the stands.
Hundreds of other students had to stand along either side of the pitch. Not that any of them seemed to care about standing in the pouring rain. They were too busy screaming and cheering on our school’s senior rugby team.
Ten minutes into the game, I witnessed firsthand what all the fuss over Johnny Kavanagh was about.
I could literally feel the electricity crackling in the air when the ball was in his hands, and from the sounds of screaming, so did everyone else.
