Binding 13

57

Unexpected Field Trips

Sha

I didn’t go back to my last three classes on Wednesday, and I stayed at home from school on Thursday.

I knew it was wrong to skip school, but I just couldn’t face it.

It was too much.

Bella, Joh

It was far too much.

I felt emotionally drained and physically battered, and I needed some time to think things through before going back.

My attempt at taking some breathing space was a complete disaster that consisted of my father losing his head with me last night for burning the di

Apparently, I couldn’t cook spaghetti bolognaise for shit.

And apparently, that was crime enough to earn another infamous choking.

I felt like absolute crap this morning, but I would have crawled on my hands and knees out of that house if I had to.

Nothing Bella did to me at school could come close to what he was capable of doing to me at home.

When I finally made it to school – over an hour late because I overslept without the aid of my trusty phone alarm – I all but got my head bitten off by Mr. Mulcahy, our P.E. teacher, for holding the show up.

"What show?" I had asked, because I honestly didn’t know what the hell was happening.

Apparently, I wasn’t deemed worthy enough of that information because instead of explaining what was happening, Mr. Mulcahy had all but shoved me onto a jampacked school bus and instructed me to find a seat and fast.

Which brought me to my current terror-induced predicament as I stood at the front of the bus, at a complete loss as to what was happening or why I was being forced onto a school bus full of unfamiliar faces.

"Shan!" Claire called out, flagging me over.

Panicked, my eyes sought her out in the third row from the front with Lizzie sitting alongside her.

All the girls on the bus seemed to be sitting up at the front near the driver.

There were only four other girls in my class, and Shelly and Helen were paired up in the seat behind my friends.

Several other girls from sixth year were sitting near them – including a glaring Bella and a huge, dark-haired boy with his arm wrapped around her and his face nuzzling her neck.

Forcing myself to not look at Bella, I scrambled towards Lizzie and Claire.

"What's going on?" I hissed when I reached them.

"It's game day," Claire told me, smile fading. "Remember?"

I stared blankly at her. "Game day what?"

Claire's eyes widened. "Oh my god," she whispered/hissed. "A text went out Tuesday night about it."

"A text?" I croaked out. "I didn’t get any text."

"She's new so she's probably not on the system," Lizzie muttered.

No, I didn’t get the text because my phone was floating in water on Tuesday night.

"What's going on, guys?" I choked out, terrified now. I glanced around nervously.

"The playoff is today," Lizzie explained. "Between Tommen and Royce."

I stared blankly back at her. "Huh?"

"For god's sake, Claire," Lizzie groaned. "I can't believe you didn’t let her know!"

"I thought she knew!" Claire replied, red-faced. "I'm sorry, Shan. I thought you knew the game was today."

"No, no, no," I spluttered. "The Donegal match isn’t until after the holidays." Which were supposed to start today. "Remember?"

"Royce College won their last three games," Lizzie told me, tone laced with sympathy.

Apparently, I looked as stumped as I did petrified because Lizzie didn’t dish out the sympathy gazes for nothing.

"Wi

I pinched my nose, struggling to comprehend what I was being told. "But we're supposed to be going to Donegal after Easter!"

"There won't be a Donegal trip if the boys don’t win today," Claire explained.

"Why didn’t you guys tell me about this?"

"We didn’t know for sure when the game would be held."

"Why?"

"Because Royce were playing games," Lizzie offered. "Making life awkward for Tommen in the hopes that Joh

"What?"

"He has a schedule," Claire explained. "Everything he does rugby related has to run through The Academy." Shrugging, she added, "I guess they were hoping to catch Tommen on a loop."

"Which they didn’t," Lizzie scoffed. "Unlucky for them."

"Oh, god," I croaked out, flustered. "Where's this happening?"

"Dublin," Claire grimaced.

"I'm not allowed to go to Dublin." My eyes widened. "If my father finds out –"

"It's only a day trip," she interrupted me to say. "Straight up and down. We'll be home by ten."

"Ten?" I whimpered. "Tonight?"

Oh, god.

I was so dead.

"Guys, I can't go," I croaked out, panicking at thought of what my father would say if I came home at 10pm. "I don’t have any money and my parents don’t know –"

"Miss Lynch!" Mr. Mulcahy roared, cutting Claire off and drawing everyone on the bus's attention to us. "Sit down!"

"I'll move," Lizzie interjected, rising up. "Sha

"Sit down, Miss Young," Mr. Mulcahy snapped. "Miss Lynch is the one throwing us off schedule with her poor time-keeping skills. She can find herself a seat."

"It's okay," I choked out, mortified. "I'll find a seat."

"Today would be great," he grumbled.

With my head down, and Mr. Mulcahy's impatient voice in my ear, I had to do the dreaded walk of shame, shuffling down the center aisle with my schoolbag on my back, peeking from side to side to see if there was a free spot.

There wasn’t.

I ended up having to walk all the way down to the back of the bus to where the team were harboring.

The further back on the bus I walked, the louder the bustle grew.

I wanted to turn around.

I wanted climb off this bus and leg it home.

No, I mentally steeled my resolve. No. You don’t run anymore.

You're okay.

You're fine.

Who cares if they're staring at you.

They don’t know you.

Just breathe.

Finally, when I reached the back of the bus and saw the back row, my cheeks were so hot I was sure I was radiating fire.

Honestly, if someone pressed a rasher to my face, it would have sizzled.

The entire back row was filled with members of the rugby team.

Oh, Jesus.

I was in the danger zone.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the window seat on my right, just in front of the back row was vacant.

Sagging in relief, I tightened my hold on the shoulder straps of my bag and turned my body to slip into the row, only to immediately halt in my tracks when I noticed who was sprawled out in the aisle seat.

My heart jackknifed in my chest.

Joh

I hear you, Jay-Z…

He wasn’t looking at me.

He wasn’t looking at anyone.

His entire focus was on the iPod in his hands.

Strewn on top of the seat beside him – the only remaining seat in the entire bus – was a pile of gear bags, obviously belonging to the team.