Page 111 of Finding Him
The whistle blows soon after—final score.
We lost.
And I could’ve stopped it.
43
Molly’s got a secret
Niall
December, 2007
MOLLYLOCKHART ISa tough puzzle to solve.
The drive back to Molly’s house is mostly quiet, save for the swoosh of the wipers on the windscreen andThe Middleby Jimmy Eats World playing on the radio.
Her mother invited me over for a late supper, a gesture of kindness to sooth the crushing defeat of the game. Molly’s slumped in the passenger seat, a shadow of her usual vibrant self.
She’s changed out of her muddy kit and into a pair of grey joggers and a loose jumper, her hair twisted up into a bun on top of her head. She’s chewing on her fingernails, her gaze fixed on the water-streaked world outside her window.
I’m bummed about the loss. Of course I am. The sting of a 3-1 defeat, especially at a home game, is a bitter pill to swallow. Fairview were class, no doubt about it, and their number ten, Theo Kerwin, was a nightmare to mark.
I know him from the summer academy, a sound lad with a ridiculous amount of talent. I can say from experience it’s muchbetter to be playing with him than against him. And he ran the show tonight.
Something tells me Molly’s taking this deeper to heart than she should. We’ve lost before and I’ve never seen her in such a funk.
I pull into her driveway, the tyres crunching on the wet gravel, and put the Escort into park and kill the engine.
“Mols,” I say gently.
She nods, not looking at me, her eyes still fixed on the windscreen. She pulls her lips into a tight line. “Yeah?”
“Ya alright?” It’s a stupid question, I know. Of course she’s not alright. But I need to start somewhere.
She surprises me by shaking her head. Not because she said no, but I’m surprised she was honest about it. Molly’s a master of deflecting, of putting on a brave face and telling everyone she’s fine when she’s clearly anything but.
The fact that she’s admitting she’s not feels like a small victory. Like she’s letting me in just a little bit more.
“What’s wrong?” I press, turning in my seat to face her fully.
She looks at me, her eyes wide. They’re searching my face, as if she’s looking for something, some sign that I’ll understand, that I won’t judge her. “You really don’t get it?”
“Can’t say that I do.” I frown. Genuinely confused. “Is this still about the game? We’ll get ‘em next time, Mols. Fairview are a good side, we knew that going in.”
She exhales sharply through her nose, clearly frustrated. “I fucked up, okay?”
“What? The game?” I’m still not following. We all fucked up. That’s what happens when you lose.
“Yes! I fucked up two goals, and I’m the only girl on the team.” She lowers her head to her hands, her fingers tangling in her hair as she rubs her forehead.
“So?”
“So!? I just told you.” I can see the hurt flash in her eyes, even in the dark, and I rush to explain myself.
“So what does your anatomy have to do with your mistakes again?” I ask gently, moving closer to pry her hands away from her face and make her look at me. Her skin is cold under my palms, her cheeks damp with tears she’s trying to hide from me.
“You know I fucked up plenty tonight too. And so did some of the other lads. If we go by blame game logic, we lost because Liam didn’t block every single goal they made. Or because I didn’t close down their number ten quickly enough. Or because Gerard missed that header in the first half. It’s never just one person’s fault, Mols. It’s never just one mistake. Fairview just played better than us today, it’s nothing you did.”
