SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Rules of the game

Maeve's Point of View

By the time I walked back to the team benches, the clouds had shifted into one unbroken sheet of grey.
The wind had settled some, but the air still carried that sharp bite, the kind that crept under your sleeves and stayed in your bones.

Niamh was sitting on the metal bleachers with her hood up, one booted foot braced on the bench in front of her and the other flat on the gravel.
Her phone was still clutched in her hand, fingers white-knuckled.
The look on her face made me hesitate for a second – like maybe now wasn't the time.

But this was Niamh.
My Niamh.
My quiet anchor with claws beneath her sleeves.

So I climbed up the steps and dropped into the seat beside her without a word.

She didn't look at me right away.
Just exhaled through her nose, slow and steady, like she was trying not to combust.

"You good?" I asked carefully.

"No." She said, then, a beat later. "That was Feely."

"I gathered."

She finally turned toward me, yanking her hood back with one hand and shaking her head like she could physically dislodge the rage in her system. "You won't believe the absolute shit I just heard."

"Try me."

"The Royce coach just threaten to pull his team." She snapped, practically spitting the words. "He's refusing to let them take the field unless Tommen benches Johnny."

My eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"They think it's unfair." She mocked, fingers flexing like she wanted to throttle someone. "Unfair advantage is what he said. Because Johnny's technically a pro now. So apparently that means he's not allowed to be talented anymore."

"Wait – what the hell?" I blinked. "That's not even how school sports work. He's still enrolled. Still technically eligible."

"Exactly." She shoved her phone into her pocket. "They're acting like him being good at rugby is some kind of moral crime. Like it's cheating just because he worked harder than everyone else."

I looked at her. "So what's happening now?"

"Coach is arguing with them. Trying to reason it out, tell them Johnny earned his place same as the rest of them. That there's no rule against it. But the Royce coach is throwing a tantrum because apparently if they lose, it'll damage their lads' confidence."

I snorted. "God forbid their fragile egos take a hit."

"Right?" Niamh barked a bitter laugh. "He said something about preserving the integrity of amateur competition. I swear to God, Maeve, I nearly threw my phone off the bleachers."

She ran a hand through her hair, visibly vibrating. "It's not like Johnny bought his way in. He's not being parachuted in from a different league to humiliate children. He's just – he's good. He got that way by himself."

I leaned back, sighing. "Do you think they'll actually forfeit?"

"No." Her jaw clenched. "Because if they do, they lose their spot in the finals. But they're stalling, trying to pressure Coach into caving."

"Will he?"

Niamh didn't answer for a second.
Her eyes stayed locked on the pitch, where the lads were warming up – Johnny among them, jogging way ahead of everyone else.

"No." She said finally. "Not unless Johnny tells him to."

We both went quiet.

I let the silence hold.