“Hey—” she winced, “—it’s my number one fan!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice catching.

“A bit sore, but I’m fine.”

“Don’t jump the gun on that,” Andrews grumbled, dropping the blood-stained towel on the grass. He stood up slowly, shaking his head. “You’re gonna need to see a doctor, I’m worried about a concussion…”

Connie pointedly ignored him. “I’ll be going back on in a few minutes. Just need to give my shins a minute—”

“You should be wearing shin guards. Like everyone else.”

“And absolutely no way will you be going back on,” Andrews cut in. “You hit your head, and hard.”

“I don’t need a doctor.” She turned to me. “There’s a bag of jellies in my bag, do you think you could grab them for me?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to eat with a concussion,” I mumbled, but the glare she shot at me forced me toward the pile of gym bags nearby. A minute later I returned with her jellies and a bottle of juice, to which she smiled.

“Oh, my jellies. Thanks, good thinking.” She held out her hand, her eyes a little unfocused.

Andrews made a show of sighing but was very obviously amused. “Disorientation so soon after a fall is normal,” he whispered in an undertone. He looked back down at Connie. “I’m guessing your parents aren’t here?”

She snorted. “Of course not.”

“They meant to be picking you up?”

“No.”

Andrews sighed, rubbing his jaw. “I want to get you seen as soon as possible. Ryan. Do me a favor, will you? Do you think you could bring Ms. O’Reilly into the office and have them call a guardian? I’d do it myself but I can’t exactly leave…Make sure they know what’s happened, will you?”

“Of course,” I answered, just as Connie yelped, “But the match!”

“You’re not going back on,” he told her sternly. “I’ll call your house later with the score, okay? You can’t stay out here, kid.”

Connie was still huffing and muttering under her breath as we made our way toward the school building. I had my arm around her waist and her own was gripping my shoulder, and I left all of her gear with Orla. I said nothing as we walked, allowing her to let out her frustration in silence until we reached the front door where she came to an abrupt halt.

“I don’t even know if anyone is home. This is stupid…”

“You gave me a fright when you fell.”

“I fall all the time. It’s a game. You’re gonna get hurt.”

“You could have a concussion, eejit. You have to get it checked out.” Her eyes softened when I squeezed her hip. “Come on. If your Mam isn’t home I’ll get Claire to bring us.”

“I hate hospitals.”

“O’Reilly…”

“Fine, fine. But if they give me the all clear then I get to say I told you so.”

It was Connie’s father that arrived at the school twenty minutes later, gliding into the office in a pressed suit with an air of confidence and privilege identical to that of his daughter. Mr. O’Reilly was someone that, like his wife, existed on the fringes of my mind. I knew he existed. I had seen photos of him. I had heard stories about him. Up until that day I might have been capable of picking him out in a crowd based purely on my own intuition that surely the well-dressed handsome man with hazel eyes and graying hair would be Connie’s father, but had never actually laid eyes on him in the flesh. Even in his own house he tended to stick to his own office and his bedroom, never actually venturing elsewhere while his daughters had company. The house was certainly big enough that he could avoid them as he pleased, easily going days without running into any of its other inhabitants. Even still it managed to surprise me that I had never met him after so long—his wife less so, given her almost constant state of inebriation.