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LUNCHTIME LIAISONS IN LIbrARIES

Hugh

OCTOBER 24, 2003

“D ID YOU ASK L ISA D ONOVAN FROM SIXTH YEAR TO BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND AT THE weekend?” Feely asked Johnny at big lunch on Friday.

We were breaking up from school today for the Halloween midterm and instead of being thrilled about my upcoming birthday and a week off school, I’d never felt more stressed.

“Because she’s telling the entire school she’s with you.”

“Did I fuck?” Kav spluttered, looking thoroughly offended at the notion. “What do ye take me for? A bleeding eejit?” Craning his neck up, he squinted across the lunch hall. “Which one is she?”

Feely pointed across the lunch hall to the girl in question. “The blond with the huge ass.”

I watched as our captain strained to get a better look at the blond before shaking his head. “Nope,” he confirmed before resuming his lunch. “Never happened.”

“Well, according to her, you did.”

“Well, according to me, I didn’t,” Kav snapped back, sounding irritated by the inquisition. “Lad, I’ve never spoken to that girl, let alone asked her to be my bleeding girlfriend.”

“You could do a lot worse, Johnny,” Gibsie snickered. “She’s a sixth year, you know.”

“Then why don’t you go ask her out, Gibs?” Kav shot back, smacking Gibs upside the head with a rolled-up ball of tinfoil. “Since you’re so fond of older women.” Shrugging, he added, “Besides, I don’t like blonds.”

“You don’t?” Feely asked, eyebrows raised in surprised.

“What can I say?” Kav replied with another shrug of his shoulders. “I’m more of a brunette man.”

“ I don’t like blonds ,” Gibsie mimicked before sticking his middle finger up at him. “What do you call me, asshole?”

“Am I fucking you, Gerard?”

“I sincerely hope not, Jonathan.”

“Well then, there you go.”

“Say you like blonds.”

“I will not.”

“Say it.”

“It’s a preference. I’m allowed to have a preference, asshole.”

“You most certainly are not,” Gibsie huffed. “Not when it leaves me out.”

“Oh my Jesus, Gibs, it’s nothing personal, lad,” Kav groaned. “It’s just my ma’s blond.”

“So?” Gibsie glared across the table at him. “I’m not asking you to fuck your mother.” Grinning, he added, “I’ll save you the trouble and do it for ya.”

“You keep your beady, little eyes off my ma, ya hear?”

“I don’t have beady eyes. I have bed-me eyes.”

“Someone take him away from me before I throttle him.”

“No can do, Cap,” Feely laughed. “You took permanent custody of him in sixth class. He’s yours to handle.”

“To be fair, I think we’d all fuck your mam, Johnny,” Robbie Mac tossed out.

The rest of us cracked up around him, while our captain glowered in silence, staring into his shitty chicken-filled lunchbox like he was so misunderstood . “I hate the lot of ye.”

“Did you fill Hughie in on your genius plan yet?” Feely asked then, eyes laced with amusement, as he looked at Gibs. “You probably should, considering it’s taking place at his house.”

“What?” Stifling a groan, I looked between the two of them. “What did you do, Gibs?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise, Patrick,” Gibsie huffed, eyeballing our friend. “Can you keep nothing to yourself?”

“ Me ?” Feely laughed. “You’re one to talk, lad. Besides, I’m fairly sure Hughie would’ve twigged on when you started smuggling slabs of beer into his kitchen.”

He didn’t need to say another word.

I had already clicked on.

My sister had received a phone call from the school’s hockey coach last week. The senior team had an important blitz in Kildare the day after my birthday, and a member of the team had broken her ankle. When the coach asked Claire if she would be willing to temporarily jump ships from the junior team to the senior one, she’d instantly agreed.

Mam being Mam had immediately agreed to take her, and had swapped out shifts at work to make it happen. It would entail an overnight stay, with Mam and Claire leaving at the crack of dawn the day after my birthday.

The most shocking part of the plan was when Dad told them to book adjoining rooms at the hotel because he was going with them.

“Tell me you haven’t,” I said flatly, staring across the lunch table at Gibs. “Tell me you haven’t planned a party at my fucking house.”

He grinned sheepishly. “I’m afraid I can’t, Hugo.”

I knew it .

That sneaky, little, pierced-nippled fucker had been acting sketchy ever since the call came in from my sister’s coach. “Mam’s already throwing me a party on Halloween night.”

“And I’m throwing you an even better one on Saturday night,” he chimed back, grinning like a dope. “Minus the Irish mammy.”

“Cancel it,” I bit out, glaring at him.

“Can’t do that either I’m afraid.” He chuckled nervously. “The invites went out days ago.”

“Why don’t you move it to your house, Gibs?” Feely asked, while I repressed the urge to throttle the pain in my hole that was Gerard Gibson. “Your parents are in Spain until Sunday, aren’t they?”

“ Parent ,” Gibs corrected before quickly rambling on. “And I would if I could, but you know how Brian freaks everyone out, and Mam gives him free rein of the house.”

“Just lock him in the garden for the night,” Feely suggested. “A bit of fresh air won’t harm him.”

“Brian’s not the one I’m afraid of coming to harm,” Gibsie muttered under his breath, looking comically terrified. “He’s the size of a goat, Feely. A very mean, very evil goat, I tell ya!”

Deciding to excuse myself before I lost what precious patience I had left, I went in search of the girl who had been carefully avoiding me all week.

I knew I was on her shit list for telling her parents she came off her meds, and Liz knew she was on mine for coming off said meds.

A huge part of me regretted opening my mouth because Mike had instantly resorted to threatening his daughter with hospital. That particular threat was one that usually scared my girlfriend into a panic, but instead of submitting, she laughed in his face.

Her mood swings were off the charts, and I had whiplash trying to keep up. We both felt betrayed, but instead of hashing it out like we usually did, my girlfriend had taken to avoiding me, which, I had to admit, was a first for us.

When she wasn’t with Claire at their table, I knew exactly where she would be. The same place she’d been sneaking off to since she walked through the doors in first year. Because I could read her better than any number of the books she surrounded herself with. She was my chosen field, my strongest subject, and I was sure no other heart could be a specialist in the field of Elizabeth Eleanor Young.

When I reached the old library, I headed straight for the left wing, knowing she would be lurking there.

At the very end, sprawled out on her belly with her schoolbag propping her chest up, Liz flicked through the pages of a book, while she swung her feet around aimlessly.

With her chin propped up in one hand, she hummed softly, shoulders and legs swaying along to the beat in her head, thoroughly engrossed in whatever she was reading.

“‘Silver Springs’?” I broke the moment by asking, taking a seat on the floor.

Liz looked over her shoulder, giving me a glimpse of those soul-sucking blue eyes before turning back to her book. “Why break the habit of a lifetime?”

“What are you reading?”

“ Lady Chatterley’s Lover .”

My brows shot up. “Where’d you find a copy of that?”

She pointed toward a particular dusty shelf and smirked. “Who knew Tommen had such interesting reading material.”

“Clearly you,” I mused. “Have you taken your meds today?”

She responded by giving me the finger.

Lovely .

“Have you been here all day?”

“Yep.”

“Are you ready to hash this out with me?”

“Nope.”

Lips twitching, I hooked my arms around my knees and asked, “Are you planning on going to the rest of your classes?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because there isn’t a member of faculty nearly as stimulating as D.H. Lawrence.”

I forced back the smile that was attempting to spread across my face. “You know, if you keep skipping your classes, you’re going to fall behind.”

Liz snorted in response, like it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard, and when it came to her freakishly gifted mind, it probably was.

“Okay then, maybe you won’t fall behind, but you’ll get in trouble.”

“What can they say, Hugh?” she drawled, entirely unperturbed by the notion. “ Stop going to the library ?”

The bell sounded then, signaling the end of lunch break.

“You better get going,” Liz muttered, flicking over another page of her book. “Don’t you have rugby training after big lunch on Fridays?”

“I do,” I replied slowly. “Don’t you have your weekly session with the school counselor after big lunch on Fridays?”

“I do,” she replied, not giving an inch.

“And are you planning on attending?”

Her response was to flip to the next page.

I sighed heavily. “Liz.”

“I’m not going today, Hugh.”

“Why not?”

“Because, thanks to you, I spent all weekend holed up in the hospital being grilled by a revolving door of medical professionals that don’t know me and can’t fix me. So excuse me if I’m tired of talking ,” she strangled out, voice thick with emotion. “And even if I weren’t sick to death of having people poke holes in my sanity, there’s no goddamn way I would let that nosy bitch of a guidance counselor root around in my head like I’m her special project.” Reaching up, she swiped a tear off her cheek before adding, “But I don’t expect you to understand that, considering you’re pro-counseling, pro-medication, pro-fucking-everything-that-makes-me-feel-dead-inside!”