All Our Hidden Gifts by Caroline O’donoghue (books for 10th graders .TXT) 📗

“And … when you imagine the pinball machine,” I say, my words slow and deliberate. “Where am I, Roe?”

“What do you mean?”

“What side am I on? Am I a bumper? A lever?” I tear my eyes away as he looks at me, confused.

“Never mind,” I say, certain I got the metaphor wrong.

“Maeve, you’re not on the machine,” he says, taking a step closer. “Lately…”

He bows his head slightly, and I can see the space between the back of his neck and his school shirt, the leather string holding my rose quartz just barely visible.

“Lately, you’re due north.”

And he kisses me. Softly. His lips are cold and full, like fresh blackberries in a white enamel cup.

I don’t move. Part of me is convinced that this is yet another one of his jokes. That, until his lips are firmly on mine, he is still likely to walk away and leave me gaping after him.

He pulls back, checking my expression for … for what? Disgust? Discomfort? Rejection? Worry flickers across his face.

I move closer to him and trace my finger gently up his school jumper, to his collar, to the soft warm skin of his pale neck. And with one finger, I loop the string of rose quartz and pull it out, the stone warm like a heart.

“I just remembered,” I murmur. “I just remembered what this one is supposed to mean.”

I pull the string. I pull the string and Roe follows. His mouth is on mine, his hands cupped around my face. I keep the stone tight in my palm.

And I’m satisfied, despite all the many thousands of things I have yet to understand about Roe O’Callaghan, that I know exactly what he means by the pinball machine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

LIKE ALL PERFECT MOMENTS, THIS ONE IS RUINED BY OTHER people.

The kids who were eating chips outside Deasy’s start wolf-whistling at us. Roe wraps his arms around me and turns his face to them. I bury my face in his neck, planting kisses on the warm skin there, thrilled that I finally have the permission to do so.

“Piss off!” he shouts.

“C’mon,” I say. “They’re going to start throwing chips at us.”

The shouts get closer.

“Thought you were a bender, Rory!”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

All roads, inevitably, lead to the underpass. Roe holds my hand, periodically bringing the back of my hand to his lips.

“We have a gig on Saturday at the Cypress. You should come.”

“Will I need an ID?”

I once used Niamh’s older sister’s student ID to go to the gig of a boy Niamh liked. He played Ed Sheeran and George Ezra covers in a pub almost entirely frequented by accountants on their Christmas party, and it was the most boring night of my life. I bite my lip. The door to Niamh’s sister’s ID is definitely closed now, and there’s no chance of me getting away with Joanne’s.

“No, it’s an all-ages thing. It’s like a cabaret night. They’re using it to fundraise for an LGBTQ homelessness charity.”

“That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, it was booked in months ago but with Lily and everything I completely forgot. Miel messaged me yesterday asking if I still wanted to do it.”

“And do you?”

“Honestly, I would give my right leg to do it under normal circumstances. But with all this drama at home I would give two legs. I just need something to take my mind off it.”

I nod and he smiles at me. “Although I have someone right here who’s pretty good at that.”

“Oh, do you?”

I kiss him and kiss him, feeling ridiculously brazen about my new access to him. I press his back against the wall outside the underpass, curling my fingers around his hair. We stay like that for minutes, feeling the evening temperature drop to freezing, the cold bracing against our hands and faces but warm where our bodies are fixed, glued together.

“I’ll walk you back,” I say.

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. You’re always walking me back.”

“It’s fine,” he says, kissing me on the forehead again. I look at him squarely, and there’s a flicker of anxiety in his smile. “You should get home.”

“You don’t want your parents to see me, do you?”

“What? No, it’s not that.”

I look at him sceptically, my eyebrows raised.

“OK, it kind of is that.”

“Do they … do they blame me?”

“Of course they don’t blame you, Maeve. But they’re not … not exactly fans of yours.”

“Right. Why should they be? I’m the cow that ruined their daughter’s life.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Roe. It’s true.”

I untangle myself from him, feeling sick. I am sick: gross or perverted, a parasite who latches on to others, then abandons them once I’m full. I took everything I could from Lily, and now I’m taking it from Roe. I turn away from him and stare at the river, the water silent and black in the darkness.

We leave each other awkwardly. He tries to kiss me again, but I can’t get lost in the moment. All I can imagine is how we look from the outside. How slutty and stupid, how uncaring and thoughtless. It’s been weeks, and Lily is still missing. What have I done about it? What am I doing about it?

He gathers me into a hug, sweeping my long woolly hair into his hands.

“Maeve,” he says. “Life is so shite lately. Can’t we just enjoy the good things while we can? Making yourself miserable isn’t going to bring her back.”

I smile weakly. “I know. I just… The more we find out about this Housekeeper thing, the more convinced I am that if it weren’t for me, she’d still be here.”

“And if I were a better brother, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so alone. We can ‘maybe’ things until the cows come home.”

I shrug. He sweeps his thumb across my cheek. “Go home and get some dinner in you. And stop torturing yourself.”

I take the long way, missing the split in the path where I usually turn right to go