When the phone rang, I nearly dove across the room to reach it, earning me a snort from Claire.

“Connie?”

“Hey, Alex.”

“Well? What happened? Are you alright? Are you home?”

“Of course I’m alright, gobshite. I’m grand. It was just a mild concussion.”

“Oh,” I exhaled, relief flooding through me. “Well, that’s—um—good.”

“I told you so.”

“Whatever. Your team won, in the end. So, congrats on that.”

“Yeah, I figured we would. They’re not half bad without me.”

“And with you?”

“They’re unbelievable.”

I bit back a smile. “So, your dad was nice.”

“You think so?”

“I do. He…wasn’t what I expected. I thought he’d be—yano—big and gruff and intimidating.”

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s still a dick. You know what he said to me in the car on the way home? He said, ‘You should invite that Alex girl over some time. She seems like a nice kid.’”

“He actually said that?”

“Yup. I just kinda stared at him. And told him you’re over nearly every day. I think it dawned on him, then. He was like, ‘Oh, that’s the friend you have over all the time. I didn’t know’.”

“Jesus.”

“I know. Don’t worry, though. He won’t get all chummy with you now or anything like that. He’ll keep hiding in his quarters, and us in mine.”

“His quarters—Christ your family are odd. Absolute snobs.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Well, you were playing well today. Hey—your marker, earlier—are you guys friends?”

“Who, McMahon? Why?”

“I don’t know what her name was.”

“Well, Julia McMahon was my marker. She’s captain of Holy Faith.”

“You guys seemed to get along. I thought O’Doherty was going to crucify her.”

On the other end of the line Connie made a rather vicious growling sound. “Fucking O’Doherty. She was just gearing for a fight. I mean—she makes a show of how much she hates me constantly and then tries to stand up for me in a match? Stupid bitch. But McMahon…Yeah, she’s alright. We did a few camps together when we were younger and stuff. Very quiet but she’s a pretty good player. Shame she doesn’t go to Michael’s. She gets a lot of shit.”

I pictured Connie’s marker in my head. The talented girl with the soft tone and the long blonde hair, tanned legs and strong arms. “What for?”

There was silence for a moment. “She, um—she was actually outed as gay a year or so ago.”

“Oh. Really?”

I could hear Connie breathing, in and out. Her breaths were heavy in my ear. “Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

“How do you know?”

“It was a whole big thing in their school. I feel bad for her. Like she’s nice and stuff, but she gets a lot of shit. Oh—Shite, I better go. I think I hear the Queen Mother herself descending the stairs.”

“Your mam?”

“The one and only. If I happen to lock eyes with her, I might find myself with another concussion, so, yano…”

“I’ll let you go. Take it easy, O’Reilly, alright?”