Page 7

Mairin jiggled up and down, trying to get his attention, but he kept his eyes on the priest, getting ready for the second

round of incensing.

Liam frowned at her again, but she ignored her brother. She kept trying to make Kevin look at her. When he lifted his arm,

she saw that the hole was a red ring, burning in earnest now, and she couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Kevin,” she said in a stage whisper. “Kevin.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Liam demanded, nudging her shoulder.

Kevin wasn’t even her official boyfriend yet. She couldn’t let him burn to death like St. Joan before he’d even kissed her.

An older man in the front row turned to scowl at her. The chorus swelled with the strains of the Tantum.

Mairin took a deep breath. “ Jesus Christ, the altar boy’s on fire! ” she yelled.

Mam whirled on her, reached across Liam, and gave Mairin’s mouth a smack. Holding a hand to her cheek, Mairin scrambled toward

the front of the church.

At the same moment, Kevin looked down at his sleeve. He dropped the thurible, rushed over to the holy water font, and plunged

in his arm up to the elbow. Mairin was close enough to hear the sizzle.

The entire congregation froze. Even the organ, mid-chord, fell silent. Mairin dashed up the five marble steps to the altar,

entering the forbidden zone, but she didn’t care.

“Are you okay?” she asked Kevin. “Did you burn yourself?”

Father Timothy, who took his duties seriously, waved Kevin toward a side door, then cleared his throat and resumed the mass

as if nothing had happened. Mairin slunk back to her place, her cheek still stinging from the blow. Her mother looked fit

to be tied, so there would probably be hell to pay at home. If she went home. She dreaded the lecture, which would most likely be accompanied by swats from the paddle.

Maybe her mom just needed a cool-down period. If Mairin could avoid her mother for a while, Mam would find something else

to fuss about.

As the chords of the recessional swelled from the organ loft, Mairin dashed away, jostling through the exiting crowd. Keeping

well ahead of the family, she rushed over to Fiona’s house on Cherry Street.

The Gallaghers’ house always seemed to be in a state of chaos, on account of all the kids. At the same time, it had a peculiar

worn-out charm and lived-in character. The chipped and faded paint made the house blend in with the others in the row. It

was shaped like a tall box of saltine crackers, with a peaked roof and front porch, some of its balusters gone like missing

teeth. A couple of aspidistra plants that refused to die hung from the eaves. A porch swing, empty now except for an abandoned

teddy bear, moved lightly in the breeze, its chains clacking rhythmically. Mairin had spent many a warm summer evening here,

sitting on the steps and playing Parcheesi and listening to song after song on Fiona’s portable record player.

The front sidewalk was chalked with childlike graffiti–hopscotch boards and crudely drawn hearts, flowers, and smiling sun

faces. There was an upended tricycle and a pair of flip-flops on the grass. As the third oldest, Fiona often had babysitting

duty over the little ones. Maybe that was why she hadn’t been at mass today. Or maybe she was still feeling sick.

Mairin snatched off her lace mantilla and crushed it into a ball in her fist. She noticed Flynn’s car parked in the side driveway,

its front half lifted on two jacks. It was an old heap of a thing, painted half red, half Bondo, and the ground beside it

was littered with oily-looking tools. A transistor radio crackled with a hyped-up announcer’s voice, calling the Yankees game.

A pair of legs in blue jeans and work boots protruded from under the car. According to his sister, Flynn was good at working

on cars. Carla and Gina, at the fruit warehouse, had called him dreamy. A stone-cold fox. Seemed like half the neighborhood

had a crush on him. They probably didn’t realize he was taken. His girlfriend was the gorgeous, Breck-shampoo-ad, blond Protestant

hippie, Haley Moore.

Mairin’s knock rattled the flimsy screen door. It was a shotgun house, meaning if you shot a gun through the front door, the blast would exit through the back.

No one answered her knock, but Ranger the dog came skittering down the hallway, barking his head off. She could hear voices

yelling somewhere in the back of the house. This was not unusual. In the Gallagher house, there was often yelling—the kids

squabbling, the parents telling them to pipe down, the dog barking and being shushed, the radio blaring.

This sounded different, though. Mixed in with the yelling, there was crying. Fiona’s crying.

Mairin hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Hello,” she called through the screen door.

Ranger yapped at her.

“It’s me, Mairin. Hey, Fiona—”

“She’s in trouble,” said Izzy, stepping out onto the porch. Izzy was six and adorable with her dark hair in two ponytails

that swung like Goofy’s ears. “Shannon heard her talking in the bathroom, and she told Mom, and now Fiona’s in trouble.”

Mairin felt a thud of concern in her gut. She’d given Fiona her wages to keep her out of trouble. Hadn’t it been enough? Or

was this the other kind of trouble? “I just came by to see how Fiona’s feeling—”

“Get back here, young lady,” said Mrs. Gallagher.

Fiona barreled down the hall and burst through the screen door, practically knocking Izzy out of the way. Her face was red

with sweat and anger. She grabbed Mairin’s hand in passing and towed her down the porch steps to the sidewalk.

“What happened?” Mairin asked, rushing to keep up. “What’s going on?”

“They’re making me go live with my aunt down in Bradford,” Fiona said.

“What? Why?” Mairin gave her hand a squeeze. “That’s crazy. What’s in Bradford? An aunt? You can’t move away.”

“It’s temporary.” Fiona slowed to a walk. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

The knot in Mairin’s stomach tightened. Apparently what she’d heard at work was true. Fiona was in that kind of trouble. She stared at Fiona’s completely flat middle, and couldn’t force herself to go on.

Fiona placed a hand there and nodded, then gave a shudder that ended in a sob. “I never meant for this to happen.”

Mairin nearly tripped over the sidewalk where the concrete had been buckled by a tree root. “You don’t look any different

at all. Are you sure?”

“My mom took me to the free clinic over on Hawthorn. They did a test.” She made a face. “I had to pee in a cup. Have you ever

tried peeing in a cup?”

“Uh, no.” Mairin blushed. “And that’s how they can tell?”

Oak Hill Park was deserted, so they sat on the swings, the rusty chains creaking with each gentle push. The late-afternoon

sun cast long shadows, and the air smelled of dry leaves. When they were little kids, they used to play here for hours, spinning

on the merry-go-round until they couldn’t stand up, giggling as they balanced on the seesaw, and swinging as high as the sky,

their laughter floating on the air.

Fiona trailed her foot in the dirt. “Oh, Mairin. I still can’t believe this is happening.”

Mairin was in uncharted territory. Her best friend—pregnant? “How are you feeling?”

“It’s gross. Throwing up and peeing all the time.” Fiona hugged her arms across her chest.

“What about Casey?”

“Casey.” Fiona rolled her eyes. “It was... Well, I’m not going to lie. I really liked him. At first, it was, like, super

exciting and romantic, being together like that.”

“Like what?” Mairin asked.

Fiona’s cheeks lit with a blush. “Like, with nothing between us, nothing at all. Like lovers, you know?”

Mairin didn’t know. She had only the vaguest of ideas. “Are you going to have to marry him?” Up until very recently, Mairin

hadn’t thought it was possible to get pregnant without being married. It was the strangest thing in the world, talking about

getting married when she and Fiona had only retired their Barbie dolls a couple of years ago.

“Casey broke up with me,” Fiona said. “He told his parents it might not even be his.”

“That jerk.” Mairin burned with fury for her friend.

“I thought we were in love.” Fiona shrugged and looked away. “Last thing in the world I want to do is get married to Casey.”

“Then don’t.”

“Oh, Mairin. What am I going to do? Flynn’s girlfriend, Haley? She said there’s a way to get rid of it if you have enough

money.”

“What do you mean, get rid of it?”

“Like, make it go away. Like a miscarriage. My mom had a miscarriage between the twins and Izzy.” She sighed. “But Haley said

it would cost hundreds of dollars. I’d be scared to do it, anyway. So I guess I’m stuck. It’s going to happen. Oh, Mairin.

A baby is going to happen. Haley says if somebody has a baby at the commune where she lives, everybody raises the kid together

and no one gets in trouble.”

“So could you go there?” Mairin pictured the rough-looking farm with the painted bus.

“My parents would never let me.”

“But why do you have to go live somewhere else?”

“Oh, come on. You know how people talk. My parents would be so ashamed. Everyone would think I’m going to burn in hell.”

“I wouldn’t think that,” said Mairin.

“Not everyone’s like you, Mair. Nobody knows me in Bradford except my great-aunt Cookie. My mom’s aunt. She said she’d take

care of me. So it’s either that, or the Good Shepherd nuns.”

“That place over on Best Street?” Mairin shuddered. “No way. My mom would probably do something like that, but not yours.”

Mrs. Gallagher was loud and strict, but she wasn’t harsh like Mam. Mrs. Gallagher didn’t threaten her kids with the nuns.

“Aw, Fiona. What’s going to happen? What about school?”

“I just turned sixteen. I could drop out of school.”

And do what? Mairin wondered.

“At least there won’t be Sister Carlotta, with her ruler and her bad breath.”

Mairin nodded, wishing she didn’t feel so helpless. “Well, there’s that.”

“Maybe I’ll go back after this is over and they put the baby up for adoption.”