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That was the day I stopped. I stopped lying. I stopped pretending. I just stopped.
“No one is going to say a word about you.” “But they all saw me—” “Nobody is going to open their mouth about it.”
She wasn’t like the others. This girl was different.
But go anywhere near that girl, and God himself won’t be able to save you.”
I’d never felt safe. But I was starting to. And I had a feeling he had something to do with it. Johnny Kavanagh.
“You are so concerned with fighting the bullies at school, Mam,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks, “when the biggest bully of them all lives under this roof.”
“What happened?” he demanded, glaring down at me. “Who the fuck made you cry?” “What?” I breathed, shaking my head. “I’m not crying.” “Your eyes are red and swollen,” he deadpanned. “You’ve been crying.” His eyes moved to my cheek. “The fuck happened to your face?”
“Give me a name,” Johnny growled, dropping his hands to his hips. “And I’ll take care of it.” “What—no! I’m grand,” I quickly replied. “I have allergies.” “Me too. To assholes and bullshit,” Johnny snarled. “Now, tell me who made you cry and I’ll fix it.”
Everything about Johnny Kavanagh was pure perfection.
“Put your head up, Shannon like the river.” Moments later, he draped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me in to his side. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
“If she or any of her whore friends even look at my girlfriend again, I’m coming for you.”
“What the fuck?” Joey barked seconds before two hands slammed down on the hood of his car. “Get off my car, asshole!” “You’re stealing my center,” Gibsie roared in the window as he leaned over the hood of the car. “Give him back.”
“The fifth- and sixth-year girls had this stupid competition going last year to see who could get with Johnny,” Claire grumbled. “They called it Operation Binding Thirteen
“You think I’d let anyone hurt you?” Johnny finally asked, his eyes dark and intense and focused solely on my face. “You think I’d let anything bad happen to you, Shannon like the river?”
“Binding thirteen,” Gibsie snickered as he tore off way too fucking fast for comfort. “Little Shannon blew that shit clean out of the water.”
In neat capital letters were the words: SHANNON LIKE THE RIVER. WILL YOU PLEASE BE MY FRIEND? Two hand-drawn boxes were sketched below the writing. One box had a yes over it, and the other had a no. The yes box had a smiley face. The no box had a sad face. At the bottom of the page were the words: SIGNED BY alongside a slightly crooked line with his signature scrawled across it. Beneath the line with Johnny’s name was an empty line for my name and he had dated the note January 10, 2005, my first day at Tommen.
Well, I love you, Johnny Kavanagh! Even though you’re leaving. Even though you don’t feel the same. Even though loving you is going to break my heart. I love you with everything I have. And I probably always will.
“See, Da?” I slapped my chest. “Boom, fucking boom, boom.”
“Hi, Johnny.” “Boom, boom, fucking boom, Da,” I groaned, slapping a hand against my chest. “I’m done for.”
“See her, Da? See? So fucking beautiful!” Johnny announced. “Told ye all.”
“I love you, Shannon like the river,”
“I think I need you for keeps,” he slurred. “I think I need you for keeps, too,” I confessed.
