And I do mean right there, literally pressing against my back and—
Just as I’m about to shoot the ball to Max—who’s open and maybe can get us another goal—Five’s hand clamps around my right breast, digging into the tissue through my kit. He whispers something in my ear that I can’t really hear, because all I can hear ishisvoice.
No no no.
Stop stop stop.
“You’re so perfect, you know that?”
I feel like I’m going to vomit, as the world starts to swirl black at the edges. All my thoughts were fighting against each other, memories banging on a locked door, and I’m trying to force myself back to reality.
I don’t even know I’ve done it until my elbow connects with his nose, and I hear that sickeningcracksound.
It does the trick, and he’s off me in an instant. Both his hands fly to his face as he reels back—holy shit, he’s bleeding—and the ref blows his whistle and is there in an instant.
“What the hell was that?!”
Me. He’s talking to me. I’m the one in trouble.
The ref tries to grab my shoulder, but I shove his arm away, completely enraged. “Are you blind? Did you not see him grab me?”
“I saw you elbow him in the face, that’s what I saw.”
“Oh my God, he was molesting me.” My voice is shaking—no, no, I’m crying. O'Shea is in between the ref and I within a second, yelling at him, but it makes no difference. I still get red-carded, and Five gets to go right back to playing. Suddenly, his nose feels fine with me off the field. Funny that.
I’m supposed to go clean up in the locker room, but it feels like I can’t move. I’m somewhere underwater, the edges of my vision fraying into black.
The ref didn’t believe me.
I knew they wouldn’t believe me.
27
Mr. Ruin Everything
Niall
October, 2007
THE METAL BENCHfeels like a jagged blade of ice against the backs of my thighs.
They sent Molly off the field not even twenty minutes into the game, because she’d elbowed a lad in the face. I genuinely thought JJ was taking the piss when he’d said so. I had gotten back from the bathroom, taken my seat again, and noticed my little sister was gone. She’d been sitting between JJ and I the whole game.
“Where’s Claire?” I had asked none of them in particular.
“Checking on Molly,” Finn told me. I noticed that the four of them looked kind of pissed—and O’Shea was talking to the fourth official on the field, not watching the game.
“What happened?”
And so, they told me what they saw: That the Number Five prick who’d been up Molly’s arse the whole game had grabbed her and she’d retaliated. She got a red-card and the ref let Five go back to playing.
“Grabbed her, how?” was my only question, giving my mates a hard stare.
I didn’t like the answer I was given.
Molly was back now, sitting right beside me on the bench. I’d asked her if she was okay when she sat down, and she’d just nodded so I hadn’t pushed her again. The most I could do was press my leg against hers.
Maybe I’m just crazy, but she might be pressing back.
