In His Shadow

Target

Today was the day of the rematch between Tommen and Kinsale. Naturally, I would not be playing! Even if I had successfully convinced everyone to ignore my battered body; I would still be warming the bench due to the ridiculous red card. Did I want to show up? No. I absolutely did not. The indignity of sitting on the bench while the bitch of Kinsale gloated was almost to much to stomach. But I steadfastly refused to bow. I would not give her what she wanted most. I would not cower. I would not be ashamed.

We were on my turf, I was determined to hold my head high and cheer on my teammates. I had even drafted people into making Tommen banners although Gibsie had got far too into it - if he followed through on his threat to show up dressed like a cheerleader then it would go down in Tommen history. When the bell rang at the end of the school day I headed toward the PE Hall to change into my team sweats and hype up my team. What I found was absolute carnage...

Someone had up ended my gear bag, its contents were strewn all over the locker room floor. If that had been the worst of it I would have simply gritted my teeth and picked everything up. But no it got worse, on top of the mess they had poured emerald green paint...It was still fresh forming sticky shamrock coloured puddles on the tiles. The door opened and closed as my team arrived forming a huddle behind me. I did not turn around, I could not tear my eyes from the remnants of my stick.

As someone who played hockey to an elite level I had more than one stick. My school stick which I referred to as my spare was a light weight €200 Adidas model. My preferred stick, the one my Ma had confiscated was a sleek black and emerald green Osaka that had come with an eye watering €400 price tag. My Academy stick only to be used during international events was a Gryphon clad in the colours of the Irish republic with my name and number branded on the shaft. Whoever had come in and ransacked the place had snapped my school stick clean in two...The two splintered halves had been formed into an X and stuck over an enlarged copy of my school photograph. The threat was clear. Someone was marking me as a target.

"Someone get the Principal, Coach and Johnny" I distantly heard Ciara instruct.

"Come on Skip, lets get you out of here" Ailbhe's gentle hands took me by the shoulders to guide me away.

It was too late for that...My stomach lurched and I darted outside to hurl up the contents of my lunch. With shaking hands planted on my knee's and my eyes watering I waited for the dry heaving to come to a halt. I was grateful to whomever it was that was holding my curls and rubbing soothing circles on my back.

"You're alright, we would never let anyone touch you"

That was Tadgh's voice, I never knew he could be so gentle. When my stomach stopped rebelling I drew in a juddering breath and pushed myself upright; as I did so I realised that my team had formed a circle around us so nobody saw me lose it. The gratitude that filled me up fortified me for what I knew we had to do next. The circle parted then to let a frantic looking JJ through he immediately swept me into a bone crushing hug it was full of warmth and safety - it was thirty seconds of blissful reassurance in the human form.

"The principal already called Ma" His voice was apologetic because we both knew that woman would burst in here all guns blazing. He pulled back so he could look at me directly while he asked the next thing. "What do you want me to do?"

The fact that he knew he needed to give me control over the situation soothed one of the jagged edges inside of me. I shoved my hands into my pockets so nobody would realise how badly they were shaking. She wanted us to forfeit so I would ensure we did the exact opposite.

"We are going to need to borrow the boys locker room" I was glad when my voice did not betray me. I sounded strong and confident which was everything I did not feel.