falling for 13 || Johnny Kavanagh

My Bleeding Ball

J O H N N Y

Life hasn't been so great lately, after tearing my adductor and having surgery I was finally back to training, still my adductor hurt like a bitch when I so much as moved which isn't ideal when your entire life revolves around rugby, and it's what you want your career to be.

On top of thatI was a complete and utter eejit when it came to girls— by girls I mean Grace Lynch. I'd been seeing Bella Wilkinson, a sixth year, on and off in TY, and sort of over summer. But it genuinely didn't mean anything, I was being a gobshite only wanting to get my dick wet. But in all honesty the girl she wasn't exactly begging for me to never have sex with her again, jesus she was all over me. Everywhere I turned Bella Wilkinson was making eyes at me— eyes that said "quicky in your car?" — or else she was hunting me down because I wouldn't leave her ride me.

Grace Lynch on the other hand, we were strictly just friends now— not that we were anything before that. But we actually made conversation in school, instead of avoiding each other, we'd have a quick chat. She'd go "how's rugby?" and I'd be like "Flying it, how's athletics?" We'd have longer conversations every so often, the ones where she'd rant about how one of my rugby lads were treating one of the girls, and I'd tell her the whole story about how the lad was. Jesus- you'd swear I was bitching like a 13 year old girl... but I wasn't, I was just...telling her the truth?

Anyways, she'd heard about me and Bella, and in the middle of one of our longer conversations brought it up. She decided that we shouldn't talk much anymore, something to do with Bella going all crazy on her when she was at work in the garage. Me being a stupid fucking eejit I said, "sure" and "I get it" when I didn't fucking get it at all. Bella and I were barely a thing. With Grace Lynch not speaking to me— other than giving me small smiles in the hallways, and if she'd seen me walking into one of the classes we had together— my life was fairly fucking miserable, and I was a moody bastard.

But that brings us up to now, when a girl was strolling across the pitch. I was fucking raging, and the worst part about it was that my little schoolboys team didn't give a shite. No, because they were all here to have a bit of craic, and kick a few balls around. Several of the lads started shouting at her, but they were the ones who needed to say goodnight to their dreams of playing professional rugby, because they were fucking shite. Instead of concentrating on the game, they were focused on a girl— but then again so was I.

"Great display of captaincy, Kavanagh" Ronan McGarry, a poor excuse of a scrum half, taunted as he jogged backwards past me. The little fucking shite, he was a third year, fuck me he shouldn't even be on the pitch, but of course Tommen doesn't care. "Overrated much?" he taunted again.

"Keep fucking running" I warned him, debating whether or not I should snap his legs in half. So I decided to take the calmer approach, and throw a ball at his head. Accurate and precise, the ball smacked him right in the nose, Coach was already fuming with me— because I gave him shite for how shit of a team this is, besides it's not like he was going to fucking banish me.

"Hit the showers, Kavanagh!" Coach ordered, as he slammed a finger into my chest. "You're out!"

"I'm out?" I shot back, taunting him. "Out of what exactly?"

"Don't push me, Johnny" Coach warned. "One call to your fancy little coaches up the country and you'll be in more shit than you can dig yourself out of." Ronan was standing next to him, a grin plastered on his face.

I was furious. So, I let rip at the ball which was in my hands, drop kicking it with fury, and absolutely no notions as to where it would go, because I didn't care. Coach Mulcahy threatening the academy was a low blow, but I would've done the same if I was him. "Good," he said in a calmer tone than earlier. "Now, go clean up and for fuck's sake rest up for one damn day. You're only a kid, Kavanagh, and you look like shit." The man didn't like me much and we clashed on a daily basis like an old married couple, but I never doubted his intentions. He cared about his players and not just our ability to play rugby. He encouraged us to succeed in all aspects of school life and was constantly chanting about the importance of exam years.

"It's an important year for you," he reminded me. "Fifth year is more crucial to your leaving cert than sixth year and I need you to keep your marks up – oh shit!"
     
"What?" I demanded, startled.
     
Following Coaches horrified gaze, I turned around and locked eyes on the crumpled ball on the edge of the pitch.
     
"Oh shite," I muttered when my mind made sense of what I was seeing. The girl. The fucking girl who'd been prancing around the pitch was laid out on her back on the grass. A ball lay on the grass beside her. Not just any ball.
My bleeding ball! Horrified, my feet were moving before my brain could catch up. I ran towards her, heart hammering against my ribcage every step of the way.