“I know, Mol... Here,” she says when she pulls back. She unclasps the silver soccer ball necklace she always wore and which I envied. Jamie used to play soccer, too. But she quit the team two years ago.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she pulls away, brushing pieces of my hair behind my ears. “Please don’t hate me.”
She’s already grabbed her bag and slipped out the window before I can ask what there ever would be to hate.
??` ?? ?´?
November, 2007
WITH ALL GOODthings, comes something bad.
My dad called this morning to tell me he was planning to come visit next weekend. I’m equal parts excited and nervous to see him in Ireland. Not nervous to see him, but really morenervous for my whole family to be together at once. The last time they were, everything imploded.
The bad thing about this week was that Niall was suspended—from school for the next week, and he’s not allowed to play until our game on the 24th.
“They let me off easy,” he mutters, sounding surprisingly bitter. Claire and JJ were upstairs—getting something from the attic, cameras or something for Claire—and I was helping him with the dishes. I mostly wanted a second alone with him—something I hadn’t gotten since Saturday night.
When I woke up in his bed on Sunday morning, we only talked just long enough for him to apologize for me having to “take care of” him the night before, and then he was busy puking his guts out in the bathroom for the rest of the morning.
“You don’t sound too happy about that,” I note.
He shakes his head. “It’s cause of my da. People liked him, so they just brush all my fuck-ups under the rug, and give me second chances because I’m a “good kid,” when really they just mean I’m Patrick Blue’s kid.”
“You think that?” My heart aches at the thought. That no one could really think he was worthy of a second chance—that it could only be attributed to his late father in his mind.
“‘Course I do. I know it,” he shakes his head, handing me another plate to dry.
“Well, I never knew your dad,” I say softly, making him look at me. “But I’d still give you a second chance.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Then will you?”
For the kiss, I think. Both the one he ignored me after and the one while he was drunk after his breakdown at the game. And everything else that happened on Saturday night.
“Are you okay?” I ask genuinely. “Saturday night was...”
“A one-off,” he says quickly. “Just a one time thing. I was... stressing out. I had liquor on me for the party later, not cause... don’t go thinking I’m a drunkard or anything.”
“I wasn’t,” I shake my head, though it’d crossed my mind for a moment. “How’s your knee?”
He gives me a wry smile. “Feeling great since it knows it has a break for a little while.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing,” I offer. “I mean, to be off it for a little while.”
“It’s fine, Molly,” he says, his eyes sharp. “Swear it. Hasn’t been giving me any problems lately.”
“As long as you’re sure,” I resign, just as Claire and JJ return to the room.
“Lookit what we found Nialler!” JJ says, holding up a dark blue book—no, a photo album—with cursive letters spelling outNiall Patrick Blue. “All yer old baby pictures. C’mere, Molly, you’ll love the one of him dressed as a—”
“Fuck off, JJ,” Niall snaps, reaching for the book.
JJ laughs, dodging him. “Ah, c’mon, Nialler! Let yer girlfriend see!”
“She’s not my—”
“Girlfriend?” Claire asks, cocking an eyebrow.
