“What? Seriously?”

“Like I said, I never met him. But from what Claire’s told me her dad was a fucking looper.”

“You must take after that side of the family, so.”

“Piss off.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Shut up, you’re annoying me now.”

“I don’t annoy you,” she snarled. “You’d be nothing without me.”

“Not true.”

“Hadn’t had a haircut in about ten years—”

“Ridiculous deception.”

“Didn’t have any friends—”

“A blatant lie.”

“You still dressed like a toddler before me!”

“A shameful falsehood.”

“An absolute loser—”

Connie squealed and threw her hand over my mouth. Grinning, I reached down to tickle her bare stomach and she gasped, turning over before she let out a wave of horrified, involuntary laughter. I dug my fingers into her side and she thrashed around on the bed, arms pushing at my shoulders, but I flipped myself until I was practically on top of her, our faces inches apart. Being so close to Connie always left me breathless; a fact I’m certain she was aware of. It was only up close, faces inches apart, that I could see the faint smattering of freckles beneath her foundation, or the little clumps of mascara clinging to her eyelashes. I could see every speck of green and brown in her hazel eyes, and the tiny, almost invisible light blonde hairs that grew around her perfect brows—hairs she wouldn’t have been able to see herself, never mind know to pluck. Somewhere in the room, although it could well have been worlds away, “Rhiannon” began to play. My eyes traced over her face and she smiled. Our bare legs were tangled together, and her body was warm beneath mine. I moved my hands away from her stomach to either side of her head so that I was leaning over her.

Just as I began to smile back, my heart threatening to throb right out of my chest, she jabbed a finger into my side. I yelped, falling off her, and we lay tangled together laughing until Emily hammered on the door and barked at us to keep it down.

Chapter 5

February 1994

While I went to most of our senior team’s hockey matches, along with an embarrassing amount of their training sessions, it was very rare that Orla would make an appearance. Most days she had very little time for the sport and I tended to agree with her that it was just a less exciting, bastardized version of hurling and Camogie, but when the Leinster school’s quarterfinals rolled around, even she knew that we had to be there to support our friends, dislike of the sport and what it represented aside. They had a fantastic season, as I well expected they would with Connie at the helm, and almost everyone agreed that they were well within reach of winning the entire championship. I wasn’t surprised to arrive down at the pitch and find dozens of students and teachers lined up, even a smattering of parents in the crowd. There was no question as to whether the O’Reilly’s would show up but I recognized Mrs. Gable standing next to Mr. Andrews, throwing her a nervous smile and an awkward wave.