SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Him or us

Maeve's Point of View

The bus hummed quietly beneath us, wheels rolling smooth and steady over the road back to hell.

The match was over.
The hospital was behind us.
And Johnny Kavanagh was lying stitched together in a hospital bed.

And me?

I was sitting on the bus beside Shannon like a ghost in someone else's story.
In the end since Johnny collapsed on the freaking field, he didn't have the time to find someone who could have brought her back to Cork last night.

Niamh had traded places with Shannon on the bus.
She was curled up next to Feely now, half-asleep with one earbud in, Feely keeping a protective hand on her knee.

And me and Shannon?

We were both just staring out the window.

Silent.

Shell-shocked.

Everything between us was quiet until I heard my own voice cut through it like a knife.

"So." I said softly, like I wasn't lobbing a grenade into the silence. "Coach walked in on me and Johnny kissing in the physio room."

Shannon turned slowly to look at me, brows raised.

"Like, mid-kiss."

I nodded, lips twitching.

She blinked.

I blinked back.

And then we both just lost it.

The kind of laughter that sounded like it might turn into sobbing at any moment.
Shannon doubled over, hand to her face, while I wheezed against the window like someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the bus.

"Oh my God." She managed between giggles. "You're so dead."

"I know." I gasped. "They notified my guardians."

She sucked in a breath. "You mean... him?"

I gave her a slow, grim nod.

That shut us up again.

For a second.

Then I leaned closer and whispered. "Maybe this is the time he finally kills me."

"Don't say that." Shannon's face was half-horrified, half-hysterical.

"I'm just saying." I leaned my head back against the seat. "He's been circling the idea for years."

"You should call Joey." She muttered, still trying to keep her voice low. "Warn him or something."

"Warn him?" I shot her a look. "For what? So he can get murdered too?"

Shannon bit her knuckle and turned toward the window, trying not to laugh again. "You're such a disaster."

"I'm a dead disaster." I corrected, reaching down to unzip my backpack.

The water bottle at the bottom was warm and slightly squished, but it was still drinkable.
I unscrewed the cap, raised it toward her with a flourish, and said in the most dramatic voice I could muster: "To our imminent death, I guess."

Shannon clinked her Capri Sun pouch against my bottle like we were at a fucking funeral.

"In a blaze of scandal and disgrace." She whispered.

"To being blacklisted from all school sports and family functions." I added.

"To sneaking out of hotel rooms, kissing rugby players, and committing actual medical crimes by staying in the hospital without permission."