32 | You and Blue
You and Blue
Molly
IRISH SCHOOLS ARE definitely easier to get used to than I had originally worried they would be.
They were growing on me, really. The people, the teachers, the classes.
One thing they had here that they never had in my high-school at home were common rooms for each year group.
Not just like a hall with lockers. They were these rooms that had high tables with stools and couches.
Like a waiting room at a car dealership.
The walls were covered with student art and posters of Irish mythology—most notably the Morrigan herself, with her dark wings unfurled over a carnage-strewn battlefield.
Instead of the fourth year common room, today I went to the fifth year one during small break—since Chloe and I had a partnered project in Media Studies and she’d texted me asking if I wanted to come work on it since she’s usually really busy after school, between some fancy dance school in Dublin and babysitting and visiting her Mum in London.
The fifth year lounge mirrors the fourth year one (just a slight variation in art), and Chloe and I are seated at one of those tables with the stools when I’m startled by a voice from behind me.
“I think this is yours.”
My head snaps over my shoulder, eyes finding Niall standing behind me in his school blazer. It was Monday again—a new week, and his suspension lifted. He was holding out his palm, which held a silver necklace, with a small soccer ball pendant dangling from the end.
My hand flew up to my collarbone where the necklace always rested, only finding empty skin.
“It looks like it snapped, see,” He turns it over in his hand, showing me the broken clasp. “Was in the footwell of my car. Fell off this morning without you noticing, I reckon.”
I reach out, taking the necklace from him carefully, fingers brushing his palm. “Thanks. I didn’t even realize I was missing it.”
I don’t know how. In six years, I’ve only ever taken the thing off for games.
He shrugs, his hands disappearing into the pockets of his trousers. He glances at Chloe briefly—who’s watching us with wide, silent eyes—then back to me. “I’ve got metalwork after this. I could try fixing the link for ya, if you’re wanting. Save you the trouble of finding a jeweller.”
“Sure,” I manage to say, trying my best to sound like a normal human being and not a helium filled balloon. “I’d... yeah, that’d be wonderful, thanks, Ni.”
“Grand,” he holds out his hand, waiting for me to give the necklace back. I do. “I should have it for ya after school.”
The second he’s turning away and heading back to where he and the boys’ have been sitting on the navy couch on the far end of the room, Chloe leans closer, whispering, “Oh my god.”
“What?” I manage a dismissive eye-roll.
“I thought that was just the local gossip mill churning out nonsense rumors like always,” she whispers, glancing over at the boys’ and then back to me.
“What does that mean?” my brows furrow. Gossip Mill? Rumors? Were people talking about me? About us?
He did pick you up and spin you around during your first ever game, Molly, the voice inside my head reasons.
He’s liked you since the moment he laid eyes on you, Mol, I’m sure of it.
“You know. You and Blue?”
“Oh, hush,” I dismiss quickly, though I feel my cheeks heat up. “There is no me and Blue. He was being polite, for your information.”
“Oh, sure, I bet,” she nods, clearly not believing me at all. She just raises her eyebrows and pretends to go back to work.
Did I even believe me?
I didn’t, I finally decided by the time the bell rang.
??ˋ ?? ?ˊ?
“HAND ‘EM OVER, you fat, ugly thief!”
The first thing I see when I exit the locker room after practice was Maxwell Marshall tackling his older brother into the grass beside the parking lot. Niall and JJ are both watching them with amusement, perched on the hood of Niall’s car.
They’re rolling around in the muck, shouting at each other. I can’t tell if they’re angry with one another or what, because Finn kept bursting out laughing (well, wheezing, which I know is because of his asthma).
“Absolute children, the pair of ya,” JJ calls out to them as I neared the car, shaking his head. He’s holding a porcelain travel mug in his hand, the other holding himself upright in a seated position on the hood of the car. “I’m embarrassed to be seen with you lot, honest to God.”
“Says the lad who still sleeps with a stuffed dinosaur!” Finn wheezes back, picking himself up from the grass.
“Mr. Scales is a very loyal triceratops and I won’t have you slandering his good name, thank you very much.”
Niall snorts into his own cup—which looks like an exact replica of JJ’s—shaking his head in amusement. He nods at me, and I smile in return.
A car beeps its horn—Mrs. Marshall’s minivan—and she waves to us as Finn and Max get in before driving off. JJ leans over Niall, holding out his mug to me. “Here, try this.”
I eye it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“A Biggs’ family secret recipe, as of this morning. Give it a go.”
I eye Niall, who winks at me and nods again. I take the challenge, grabbing the cup and taking a weary sip. I’m pleasantly surprised by the rich explosion of flavors.
“Ow wow,” I breathe as the warmth spreads through my chest. “What’s in this?”
“Coffee, tea, cocoa, cinnamon, a dash of vanilla,” JJ grins, setting the cup down as I hand it back. “I’m trying to convince Mama Blue to add drinks to the bakery’s menu.”
“Which she won’t,” Niall shakes his head, taking a sip of his cup.
I point to it. “Do you have some too?”
“Nope,” he says, setting his drink on the roof behind them, right next to where JJ set his. “Regular coffee. Cups only look the same ‘cause J’s a kleptomaniac.”
“Am not! I’m borrowing it. Borrowing,” JJ huffs, and points his thumb at Niall. “Can you believe this lad, Mols?”
“Don’t bring me into your arguments,” I hold up my hands. “I’m not your marriage counselor.”
Tires crunching behind us pulls my attention away from the boys, and my stomach just about drops through the pavement as I see my sister’s car pulling into the space beside Niall’s car.
She rolls down her window, smiling at me—looking prim and perfect as always, with her hair a glossy, chestnut waterfall and her eyelashes perfectly curled. “Hey, Mols! I was worried I’d be too late.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, wondering briefly if something is wrong with Lorraine—until she pops her own head out of the back window.
“We’re going to dinner! Jamie said we could, come on.”
Guilt and resentment are warring for space in my gut, as I look between my two sisters.
“Mom’s working, so I figured we could all go out. Spend some time together,” Jamie gives me a nervous smile.
“Uhm, okay,” I murmur, turning back to the boys. “Bye, guys. See you in the morning.”
“Here,” JJ says, reaching behind him and grabbing the cup off the roof. “For the road, yeah? You can keep the cup.”
“Oh, now you’re just giving away my stolen cups—real nice, Jonathan, thanks a lot.”
“Aw, come off it, ya tosser.”
I thank JJ, sharing a look with Niall before walking over to Jamie’s car, and resigning myself to the passenger seat.
She smiles at me, her eyes looking so hurt when I don’t return it that I almost feel... bad. But I can’t feel bad for her. She left me. She promised to write, to call, but didn’t.
Maybe she doesn’t remember that. Maybe she really did think she could come back and everything would be okay.
The axe can forget—but the tree will always remember the way it had to grow new limbs.