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THINK TWICE BEFORE YOU TOUCH MY GIRL

Hugh

MARCH 17, 1999

I KNEW L IZ WAS STRUGGLING .

I just didn’t know how to help her.

For weeks she had been withdrawing from life, barely speaking to her friends, and losing track of time.

I hadn’t seen her this sad in a long time, and it scared the shit out of me. Because I could see the pain in her eyes and had no way of taking it away for her. I couldn’t fix this problem for her.

Even as kids, when Liz was sad, she wasn’t just sad. She was devastated . She always seemed to feel things deeper than the rest of us and then soaked up all the pain around her like a sponge. Excellent at masking, she had learned how to hide her turmoil from her friends.

Not me, though .

I saw right through her armor, which was how I knew she was struggling lately.

She still came over to my house as often as always, but a lot of the time it felt like she was only here physically. It was as if her mind was somewhere else entirely, and I wasn’t the only one to notice. I knew my mam saw it, too, because she often took Liz to one side for chats the rest of us weren’t privy to.

I wanted to help her, but whenever I asked her what was happening, Liz just shrugged and told me that it didn’t matter.

Of course it mattered.

Anything that made her feel this sad mattered.

I knew she had mental health issues. My mother had explained that much to me, but I still felt like I was being kept in the dark. I wasn’t stupid, and I wasn’t naive like Claire and Gibs. I could handle whatever was happening to my best friend, if the grown-ups in our lives gave me the chance to.

I understood why the grown-ups used kid gloves when handling delicate issues, but I was the wrong target to wrap up in cotton wool. Because whether Mam wanted to admit it or not, I wasn’t unaccustomed to depression—or whatever the hell my best friend was suffering from.

After all, I’d been exposed to my father’s mental decline for years.

When almost a month had passed by with no improvement in Lizzie’s mood, I found myself growing increasingly protective of her. If there were a way for me to travel into her mind and bring her back, I would have, but there wasn’t, so I had to settle with shielding her from what I could control.

From the monsters I could see .

My opportunity to do just that arrived on St. Patrick’s Day, during a friendly game of rugby, of all things. We were at the local park with our friends after the parade in town. Claire, Gibs, and Liz were sprawled out on the grass at the edge of the field, while myself and Feely were pushing at the back of a maul, along with twenty or so lads from town, when it all kicked off.

“Head’s up, Fatty,” Pierce O’Neill called out about two seconds before the ball went whizzing past all of us and smacked Gibsie directly in his face.

The moment it happened, the lads on the pitch erupted with laughter, while Gibs climbed to his feet, holding his face with his hand. When he pulled his hand back and saw the blood on his fingers, he was out like a light and faceplanting into the ground.

“Gerard!” Claire cried out, dropping to her knees to comfort our friend. It wasn’t the first time either one of us had witnessed Gibs faint from the sight of his own blood. It was a common occurrence but never usually happened in such a public setting. I was horrified for my friend, and the sound of laughter around us was doing nothing to lower my spiking blood pressure.

“Did he just faint?”

“Lads, Fatty just fainted.”

“Is he all right?”

“This is priceless, lads. Billy Elliot’s afraid of blood!”

“Shut the fuck up, Danny,” Feely snarled, targeting the loudmouthed prick laughing, while I stalked over to the main culprit.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t ya?” The smirk on Pierce’s face assured me that I was right. “Why don’t ya throw something at me instead?” I demanded, shoving his chest hard enough to topple the little prick onto his ass. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I sneered, as I stood over him and glared. “Not so fucking tough now, are ya?”

“I was only messing, Biggsie,” Pierce choked out, holding his hands up in retreat like the coward he was. “Relax, will ya?” Shrugging, he added, “It was just for shits and giggles.”

“You consider that humorous?” I narrowed my eyes in disgust. “If wit was shit, you’d be constipated.”

“Hey! Someone stop that little bitch!” one of the other lads roared, dragging my attention back over to the side of the field once more, just in time to see Lizzie kick the ball we were playing with over the wall that separated the park from the river.

“You fucking idiot!” Danny roared, stalking toward her. “That was my ball!”

“Oh yeah?” I heard Lizzie shout back at him, while moving to stand in front of Gibsie. “Well, now it belongs to the fish.”

“If you know what’s good for ya, you’ll get my ball now.”

“And if you know what’s good for you , you and your asshole friends will leave my friend alone!” Looking furious, she pointed to Gibs, who was sitting up again, while my sister held the sleeve of her jumper to his nose. “You have the nerve to call Gibs ‘Fatty’? At least when he bleeds actual blood comes out. If we poked a hole in your fat ass, tomato sauce would come out!”

Now, everyone was laughing again, but at Danny’s expense this time.

“Do you want to say that to my face?”

“I thought I already had,” Lizzie shot back sarcastically. “But do you want to turn around for me to tell your other side, you two-faced prick?”

“Enough of your lip,” Danny seethed, closing the space between them, as he pointed toward the river. “You better climb in there and get it back.”

Liz stood her ground and glared up at him in defiance. “I would rather shit in my hand and clap.”

“Get my ball, bitch,” Danny threatened, pushing his chest against her. “Now.”

“Get it yourself, bitch ,” Lizzie hissed, shoving him backwards. “And get out of my face.”

I was already moving toward them to break up the fight, but when Danny pushed Liz hard enough to knock her over, I saw red.

“Hey!” Bolting toward them, I fisted the back of Danny’s jersey and dragged him away from Liz. “Back the fuck off!”

“She kicked my ball into the fucking river,” Danny argued, trying and failing to step around me in his bid to get to Liz. “She’s getting my goddamn ball back, Hughie!”

“Fuck your ball,” I roared, slapping down the fist he had reared back that I knew was intended for Liz. “And fuck you for even thinking about it.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Biggs?” he demanded, turning his fury on me now. He pushed his chest against mine and hissed, “We’ve been friends since we were four and you’re taking that bitch’s side?”

“Call her a bitch one more time and you’re going to find out how much on her side I am,” I warned, squaring up right back at him. “And if you ever think about putting your hands on her again, I’ll take the head clean off ya.”

“Whoa, lads.” That was Robbie Mac as he and Feely pushed between us. “Settle down, Dan,” he coaxed, trying to steer his asshole best friend out of harm’s way. “It’s just a ball, lad. It’s not that deep.”

“He’s a pussy-whipped prick,” Danny shouted, louder now that Robbie had moved him out of punching range. “Do ya hear me, Biggsie? That little bitch has you whipped big-time, lad.”

“Keep the head, Hughie,” Feely instructed, keeping a firm grip on my shoulders. “Keep the head, lad.”

“Hey, Danny!” Lizzie stalked across the pitch to where he was being held back by Robbie. “Wait, I forgot to give you something.”

“Bitch, the only thing I want from you is my ba-allllllll!” Danny’s words broke off into a high-pitched scream when Liz kicked him right in the gonads.

“That’s for laughing at my friend,” she hissed, planting her hands on her hips. “And for calling him fat.”

Folding like a pancake, Danny rolled around on the grass, whimpering and cupping his junk.

“And if you think you’re in pain now, just wait, asshole, because if you even think about calling him names again”—she paused to jab a thumb in my direction, before continuing—“I’ll do a hell of a lot more than kick you in the balls.” Crouching down so he would hear her, she spat, “I will cut them out of your gooch and feed them to your bitch-ass friend.”

Having said all that, Lizzie kicked him once more before turning and shoving Robbie out of her way.

“Lad,” Feely chuckled, nudging my shoulder with his as we watched Liz walk toward us. “I don’t know if I’m in love or in fear for my life.”

I could only hope it was the latter for Feely because I was fairly sure I was stuck on the former.