Releasing 10 (Boys of Tommen, #6)

by Chloe Walsh

Toward the end of the night, when we were laden down with enough sweets to stack the shelves in the local shop, I purposefully fell back. Slowing my pace until my friends were a few houses ahead, I used my shoes as my excuse, but I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to be alone with her.

“Can I talk to you about something, Liz?” “Of course,” she replied, automatically falling back to walk with me. “What’s up?” I didn’t know how to phrase the thoughts that had been plaguing me all day, so I just blurted it right out. “He likes you.” “Who?” Feeling another surge of intense jealousy, I pointed up the street to where Feely was wrestling with Gibs. Liz looked to where I was pointing and nodded. “Yeah.” She sighed heavily. “I know.” “You do?” She sighed again. “He told me.”

Another wave of jealousy surged through me, and this time it was more intense. Feely liked Liz. And Liz knew Feely liked her because he told her. A while ago. What the actual fuck? When was anyone planning on telling me? Jesus Christ, I wanted to kill him. I’d never felt such an irrational surge of fury.

“It was back in the summer when we all went bowling for his birthday. We were getting slushies at the counter, and he just blurted it out.” “What did he say exactly?” I managed to ask, sounding surprisingly calm given the fact that my entire world was crashing down around me. “Did Feely say he had a crush on you?” “Patrick just told me that he liked me before asking if I wanted to go out with him.” Her eyes were full of sincerity when she looked up at me. “I said no, Hugh. When he asked me to be his girlfriend, I said no.”

“You, ah…” My voice cracked and I roughly cleared my throat before casting a glance at her. Liz looked so composed, while I was losing my shit on the inside. Because the prospect of her being with someone else had suddenly hit me like a fucking wrecking ball. My breathing was hard and uneven when I finally asked, “You really turned him down?” I needed her to tell me one more time. I needed the reassurance, dammit. I needed a lifeline.

“What did you say?” I managed to get out relatively unjumbled. “When he, uh, when Feely asked you?” “I told him that I really liked him, too.” Still gripping my hand with both of hers, she added, “But I couldn’t be his girlfriend.” “Did he ask you why not?” “Yeah, he did.” “What did you say?” “I told him the same thing I tell any boy who asks.” So there were other lads. What was I thinking; of course there were others. Fuck. “Which is?” “That there’s only one boy I want as my boyfriend.” She kept her eyes on mine when she stepped closer, so close that I could feel her heart thundering in her chest. “And he’s the only boy I’ll ever say yes to.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Gibs tutted and shook his head in disapproval. “You shouldn’t have done that, Pa.” “Why the hell not?” Feely demanded, looking outraged. “Because Hugo Boss-man loves our little viper,” he replied solemnly, gray eyes wide and unblinking. “You know that.”

“Hold up.” Narrowing his eyes, he gave Feely a wary look. “You didn’t ask Claire out when you were scampering around looking for a girlfriend, did you?” “No, Gibs,” Feely chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” “Good. You go right ahead and keep on not dreaming about it,” Gibsie replied in a warning tone. “Because I’m not as in control of my actions as he is.” He pointed to me while keeping his eyes trained on Feely. “And I’ll kill ya dead, Patrick Desmond Feely.” Gibs made a throat slashing sign with his finger. “Don’t let this angel face fool you,” he continued, pointing to himself. “There’s a killer lurking beneath. One that’ll kill ya stone dead if you try to take my Claire-Bear, ya hear?”

“I’m sorry for not telling you about Lizzie.” He blew out another pained breath before adding, “I got my answer, though, and I won’t ask her again. Not if she means that much to you.” “She does,” I replied, still annoyed but willing to put it behind me if he was. “And I’m not a chicken,” I added, feeling the need to defend myself. “I’m just…I’m working up to it.” “Fair enough. You keep on working up to it, and I’ll keep out of it.” Smiling ruefully, Feely extended his hand to me. “Does that sound like a fair deal?” “Yeah, lad,” I replied, shaking his hand. “It’s a deal.”

The temporary relief from mental torture led me to playing with knives while other girls my age played with dolls.

Lizzie☹️💔

“What’s wrong?” Hugh asked for the tenth time since I’d arrived at his house. “I know something’s wrong.” We were sitting in his treehouse, where we were supposed to be reading, except instead he was worrying. About me. “Hugh, I’m grand,” I replied for the tenth time. “Stop worrying.” “I can’t.” He reached over and traced his finger over the part of my brow between my eyebrows. “You get a dimple right here when you’re worried.” “I do?” “Yeah, it’s a tiny one, but it’s there,” he explained, brown eyes flicking to mine. “So I know something’s bothering you.”

“You can tell me anything,” Hugh pushed, unwilling to let it go. “And I want to hear about it, Liz.” I arched a disbelieving brow. “You want to hear about my mental delusions?” “You’re not mental, Liz.” Reaching for my hand, he pulled me onto his lap. “And you’re not delusional, either.” Wrapping his arms around me, he snuggled me tightly. “But you may be guilty of being a little weirdo.”

“You know what they say about weirdos, don’t you?” “They’re drawn to fellow weirdos?” Hugh mused with a knowing smile. “That must be why I’m so obsessed with you.” My heart skipped a solid three beats in my chest when he said that.

“I’ve never seen the one in your head,” he replied, sounding sincere. “But I know what we saw that day, Liz, and if you say that’s her, then I believe you.” “You do?” “Yeah.” He leaned back to look at me. “I do.” “I think you might be the first person who ever has,” I whispered, fingers knotting in his hoodie. “Thanks.” “Don’t thank me for believing you,” he replied, sounding pained.

“Claire! Lizzie’s here with Caoimhe.” My heart started to gallop almost as loudly as my sister’s heavy footfalls as she thundered out of her room and down the stairs, screaming “Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie!” Yeah, Baby Sister. Me, too.

“Who’s a parasitic intruder, Thor?” Liz asked, butting his hip with hers to scoot over. “Who do I need to hurt?” “You would, wouldn’t ya?” Gibs chuckled, shoving over to let her slide onto the seat next to him. “Little viper.”

“I was just saying that if your sister marries Mark, then you and Gibs will be family,” Feely explained, clearly out of the loop when it came to our friend and his feelings toward his stepfamily. It wasn’t Feely’s fault. He didn’t live on the street, and Gibsie was a master concealer. The worse shit got at home, the more outrageously funny he became. “According to Gibs, that’s not a good thing.” “It’s not,” Liz agreed, sharing a packet of Tayto with Gibs. “Besides, we don’t need them to get married to be family.”

“This seat taken?” Startled from the sudden intrusion, I turned to see Joey Lynch take a seat on the grassy embankment beside me. “Why are you crying, kid?” Sniffling, I quickly batted the tears from my cheeks and cleared my throat. “I’m not.” He arched a disbelieving brow but made no further comment. In his hands, he held a battered-looking Discman. Instantly distracted by his presence, I turned my attention to the sound of music drifting from the tiny earbuds in his ears. “What are you listening to?” He didn’t respond; instead, he took his right earbud out and handed it to me. When I pressed it to my ear, it took me a few seconds to register the song blasting as Michael Jackson’s “They Don’t Care About Us.”

“So.” Joey took a deep drag of the cigarette and then seemed to hold the smoke in his lungs for an extra-long beat before slowly exhaling. “Feel like naming the culprit yet?” “The culprit of what?” “Your tears.”

Joey would’ve KILLED Mark if he found out

“That doesn’t smell like a normal cigarette.” “Because it’s not,” he mused, sounding like he didn’t have a care in the world. He took another deep drag and exhaled slowly before adding, “We all have our ways of getting through the day, don’t we, kid?”

“So let’s have it.” Flicking a trail of ash onto the grass, Joey took another drag of his self-made cigarette. “Who made you cry?” “Why?” I arched a brow. “Are you going to beat them up?” “I might,” he replied with a lazy shrug. “If you need me to.”

“I don’t need anyone.” Now he did smile. “I figured.” “What’s so funny?” “You,” he replied. “You remind me of someone I used to know.” “Who?” “My younger self,”

“Listen,” he said, all business now, scowl firmly back in place. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but either way, we’re still going to end up at the same conclusion.” “Which is?” “You telling me who made ya cry, and me fixing it for ya.”

☹️☹️

“Why?” I narrowed my eyes. “Why would you help me?” “Why would you help me?” Joey shot back, fisting the jumper he was wearing. I knew it came from the bag I had given him because I remembered the green thread mam had used to fix the sleeve. “I did that for Shannon,” I explained. “Besides, you don’t even like me.” “I don’t have to like you in order to help you,” he explained calmly, taking another drag of cigarette. “I just have to help.” “Just like that.” “Just like that, kid.”

It wasn’t until his cigarette was quenched and the tiny stub was tucked in his pocket that Joey spoke again. “I will return the favor, kid.” “Oh yeah?” I replied, tracking his every move as he stood up and dusted himself off. “How?” “That’s up to you,” was all Joey replied before he turned around and walked away. “I’ll be seeing ya, kid.”

Gibs didn’t come to school today, which was beyond strange considering we got cake from the teacher on our birthdays. In all the years I’d known him, which was literally all the years of my life, he’d never once refused cake on his birthday. Hell, he even demolished the cake given out on my birthday. That could only mean one of two things: either he was at death’s door or had passed through it. When I reached his front porch after school and tried to let myself inside like I’d done every day since I’d learned how to walk, I was met with resistance. The door was locked. Since when did we use locks?

Mark Allen had a god complex and couldn’t stand that someone younger than him could trump him intellectually. That someone was me, and I took great pleasure in kicking the shit out of him with my mind.

Graphically explicit posters of naked girls adorned the walls, and he had a bunch of instant photos littered on his nightstand. I didn’t bother investigating those because whatever piqued Mark’s interest would be of zero interest to me.

IF HE HAD JUST LOOKED AT THEM

I headed straight for Gibsie’s room and let myself inside. I didn’t bother to knock because we didn’t do that kind of thing. I strolled over to his bed and inspected his limp body, huddled under the duvet. “Are ya dead, Gibs?” Startled by the sound of my voice, Gibs shot straight up, only to hiss out a pained breath and gingerly settle back down on his side. “I am, lad.” “Is it catching?” I asked, sitting down beside him. “You do look like you’re halfway dead all right.” I reached out a hand and touched his clammy forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up, lad.” Concern roared to life inside of me. “You’re drenched in sweat, Gibs.” “I’m okay, Hugh,” he whispered, trembling beneath the covers, as he curled up in the fetal position. “I’m always okay.”

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Mark demanded when we reached the landing. He stepped in front of the staircase and folded his arms across his chest. “Your mother left me in charge of you.” He turned his attention to Gibs and said, “Get back into bed now.” A shiver racked through Gibs, and he reached for my hand, squeezing it almost as tightly as Lizzie did when this creep was around. “He’s coming with me,” I warned, taking a protective stance in front of my friend. “I’m in charge of where he goes.” Mark’s nostrils flared with temper. “He’s my brother.” “No, you fucking cretin,” I seethed, whacking his hand away when he tried to grab my friend. “He’s my brother. Now get out of our way.”

I carted my friend down the staircase and out the front door before his bully had a change of heart. “Thanks for that,” Gibs said when we were in my driveway. “No bother, lad,” I replied, guiding him up the porch steps. “Anytime.” “I might hold you to that,” he chuckled, still clutching my hand. For some strange reason, I didn’t pull my hand from his, not even when we got inside. Instead, I let him hold my hand for a solid five minutes before he finally let go.

“I was sent over to ask if you and your sister wanted to go to the cinema with us,” the cretin surprised me by saying. “The cinema.” I arched a disbelieving brow. “With you?” “Do you want to go or not?” Mark snapped, sounding impatient. “Do I want to go?” My eyes bulged in their sockets. “Asshole, you must be off your rocker if you think or imagine I would ever willingly breathe the same air as—” “Please come, Hugh,” Gibsie cut in, looking up at me with a pleading expression. “Please.”

Now I had to go because there was no way on God’s green earth that I would allow my baby sister to get in that asshole’s car without me.

My bad mood quickly lifted when I walked into the cinema foyer thirty minutes later and locked eyes on Lizzie, standing off to the side, while her sister paid for tickets at the counter. Claire and Gibs made a beeline for the refreshments, but I couldn’t move. Momentarily struck dumb at the sight of her, I could do nothing but stare like a dope and soak the image of her into my mind.

She was staring off blankly, but when I caught her attention, her eyes literally sparked to life, and then she was moving, weaving through the crowded foyer like a woman on a mission. When Liz reached me, she didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around my neck, nor did she think twice about burying her face in my neck. “Good,” was all she said, inhaling deeply and displaying yet another strange quirk that I found adorable.

All I felt when I held her hand these days was privilege and pride. Because Liz picked me to hold her hand.

Where’d she go? Something was off. Something wasn’t right. Wandering through the foyer, I checked out front before making my way back through the corridor, checking behind every unlocked door as I went. It wasn’t until I pushed through the exit doors at the back of the building and locked eyes on the back of her blond head that I felt any ounce of relief, and even then, it was thwarted by the sight of her tearstained face.

“What happened?” I demanded, feeling my heart rate spike. “Liz.” Sniffling, she turned around and looked at me, giving me a front-row view to the heartbreak in her eyes. She didn’t even try to conceal it. Not from me.

This girl felt sadness in her bones. Liz felt things deeper than other people our age and she always had.

“Today is a good day,” I told her instead, giving her the words she needed to hear. “You are having a good day, Lizzie Young.” I pulled her closer to me, wanting to envelope her body with mine and protect her from the world. “You’re happy and safe because you’re with me, and you know I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” “I am?” “Yes, you are,” I coaxed, being the reassurance she needed when her mind played tricks on her. “You are right here with me, happy and smiling, and having the best day.” “With you.” “With me,” I promised. “And you’re healthy, and brave, and smart. Just like me.”

“And you know what else you are?” “What?” “You’re my best friend.” Her breath hitched. “What about Patrick?” “What about him?” I replied, keeping my eyes on hers. “You’re the only one who really knows me, Liz.” “Same,” she replied, looking up at me with lonesome, blue eyes. “Nobody gets me like you do.” “I’m going to keep you safe,” I promised, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Always.” “No matter what?” “Yeah, Liz,” I confirmed, not truly comprehending the vow I had taken upon my young shoulders. “No matter what.”

“Hey! Someone stop that little bitch!” one of the other lads roared, dragging my attention back over to the side of the field once more, just in time to see Lizzie kick the ball we were playing with over the wall that separated the park from the river. “You fucking idiot!” Danny roared, stalking toward her. “That was my ball!” “Oh yeah?” I heard Lizzie shout back at him, while moving to stand in front of Gibsie. “Well, now it belongs to the fish.” “If you know what’s good for ya, you’ll get my ball now.” “And if you know what’s good for you, you and your asshole friends will leave my friend alone!” Looking furious, she pointed to Gibs, who was sitting up again, while my sister held the sleeve of her jumper to his nose. “You have the nerve to call Gibs ‘Fatty’? At least when he bleeds actual blood comes out. If we poked a hole in your fat ass, tomato sauce would come out!” Now, everyone was laughing again, but at Danny’s expense this time. “Do you want to say that to my face?” “I thought I already had,” Lizzie shot back sarcastically. “But do you want to turn around for me to tell your other side, you two-faced prick?”

“Get my ball, bitch,” Danny threatened, pushing his chest against her. “Now.” “Get it yourself, bitch,” Lizzie hissed, shoving him backwards. “And get out of my face.” I was already moving toward them to break up the fight, but when Danny pushed Liz hard enough to knock her over, I saw red.

“Hey!” Bolting toward them, I fisted the back of Danny’s jersey and dragged him away from Liz. “Back the fuck off!” “She kicked my ball into the fucking river,” Danny argued, trying and failing to step around me in his bid to get to Liz. “She’s getting my goddamn ball back, Hughie!” “Fuck your ball,” I roared, slapping down the fist he had reared back that I knew was intended for Liz. “And fuck you for even thinking about it.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Biggs?” he demanded, turning his fury on me now. He pushed his chest against mine and hissed, “We’ve been friends since we were four and you’re taking that bitch’s side?” “Call her a bitch one more time and you’re going to find out how much on her side I am,” I warned, squaring up right back at him. “And i...

“Hey, Danny!” Lizzie stalked across the pitch to where he was being held back by Robbie. “Wait, I forgot to give you something.” “Bitch, the only thing I want from you is my ba-allllllll!” Danny’s words broke off into a high-pitched scream when Liz kicked him right in the gonads. “That’s for laughing at my friend,” she hissed, planting her hands on her hips. “And for calling him fat.”

“And if you think you’re in pain now, just wait, asshole, because if you even think about calling him names again”—she paused to jab a thumb in my direction, before continuing—“I’ll do a hell of a lot more than kick you in the balls.” Crouching down so he would hear her, she spat, “I will cut them out of your gooch and feed them to your bitch-ass friend.” Having said all that, Lizzie kicked him once more before turning and shoving Robbie out of her way.

“Lad,” Feely chuckled, nudging my shoulder with his as we watched Liz walk toward us. “I don’t know if I’m in love or in fear for my life.” I could only hope it was the latter for Feely because I was fairly sure I was stuck on the former.

I tried so hard to keep my cool, but when they targeted Gibsie, I lost it. He was so sweet and gentle, and he didn’t deserve to be picked on all because he didn’t want to play their stupid game.

“You’re loyal, Liz,” he continued, draping an arm over my shoulders, brown eyes warm and full of sincerity. “And brave and so epically strong.” “I don’t feel so strong lately, Hugh,” I admitted, sidling closer to him. “I feel tired and…” “And what, Liz?” “Scared,” I whispered, burying my face in his chest. “I’m always so scared.” “Of what?” I clenched my eyes shut and whispered, “Me.”