Page 46 of Finding Him
“If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.”
Claire hesitates, then finally says, “I don't know. I just... I feel like the odd one out sometimes. With Niamh and Marissa. We’ve all known each other since we were little, but they’ve lived right next door. They play hockey together, they have all the same classes. Marissa is basically a permanent fixture here because her parents work in the city. I have loads of friends, Molly, I really do. But I don't feel like I havea person. You know? Someone who is just... mine.”
She looks up at me, her brown eyes shimmering with a vulnerability that makes my heart ache. “And then, there’s you and Niall.”
My heart did a violent somersault. “Me and Niall? What about us?”
“You guys are friends now,” she says, her tone a mix of confusion and fear. “You play for the same team, you have this... connection. I know you don't ‘hang out’ or anything, but I’m just terrified you’re going to ditch me for him. I know it’s pathetic, but I’ve always been ‘Niall’s little sister’ to everyone in school. I just don’t want to lose you to him.”
“Claire,” I say, and she pauses her rambling to take a breath.
“Yeah?”
“I am never going to ditch you for anyone. Especially not your brother. Sure, we have a lot in common, but that doesn’t mean anything. But you? You’re still my friend. You’re the reason I haven't lost my mind in this town. We’re our own team, okay? I’d never choose him over you. No matter what.”
A small, watery smile breaks through her melancholy. “Promise? Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Promise. On my life.”
She lets out a long, shaky breath, looking infinitely relieved. “Okay. Thanks, Molly. I told you I was being stupid.”
“You weren't. But you should tell Niamh and Marissa how you feel, you know. I bet they don't even realize how they’re making you feel. And if they’re good friends, they’ll try to make it better.”
“You’re right,” she says, then gives me a surprisingly strong hug. “I’m really glad you’re here, Molls.”
“Me too.”
She pulls back, shaking off the somber mood like a dog shaking off water. “Okay! Now, let’s get the popcorn made and get back before they start without us.”
19
Drinking Problems
Niall
October, 2007
“I'M FREEZING MYballs off back here!”
“I don’t know how,” JJ yells back, rolling his eyes at Finn from across the corrugated metal of the truck bed. “There’s barely a breeze. And Fitzy only goes five miles an hour on a good day.”
Fitzy, who is the only one of us not currently ossified, doesn’t say anything or show any signs of speeding up. I don’t even think he can hear us. He’s up in the cab, the heating probably blasting, while we’re all in the back like a bunch of stray dogs being hauled to the pound. He keeps the little sliding window to the back shut tight so he doesn’t have to listen to us talk absolute shite as he drives us around the winding backroads of Mayville.
“I’m still freezing!” Finn moans. He’s lying flat on his back, staring up at the sky, while JJ and I sit up with our spines braced against the cold sides of the bed.
The three of us have been passing a two-liter plastic bottle of Bulmers cider between us for the last twenty minutes. After practice, I had to drop Claire and Molly off at the Keane’s house for some sleepover earlier and then I’d met the lads at Fitzy’s.His Mam gave us a late supper of sausages and chips, bless her, and then we’d gone off on our own to properly ruin the nutrition.
“That just means you need to drink some more,” I say, my mouth feeling thick, the words coming out slower than my brain intends them to. “J, pass the bottle ‘ere, ya absolute hog.”
“NoOoOoOo,” JJ complains, sinking lower against the truck bed, whining like a toddler and clutching the sticky plastic bottle to his chest. “It’s my turn.”
“It’smyturn,” I argue, lunging for the bottle like we were fighting over a football in junior infants. JJ shrieks as I grab him by the collar of his jacket, wrestling the cider away from him.
Finn, who was useless when drunk and only marginally better when sober, just laughs from his spot on the floorboards.
Once I pry the bottle away, I take a deep swig. The fizzy, fermented sweetness burns the back of my throat in the best possible way. It’s always a cheap thrill, but it does its job. It puts a warm, heavy blanket over the buzzing noise in my head.
“Slow down,” JJ whined, reaching out a hand. “You’re necking it all!”
