A Crack in Everything (Cracks Book 1)

by L.H. Cosway

  “Never took you for a humanitarian,” I said. In fact, he often struck me as a misanthropist, especially when he got going on a rant. But maybe he was simply expressing his dissatisfaction in humanity. Maybe he wanted to actively do his bit not to be just another arsehole among a billion other arseholes.

  There were a few moments of silence as he watched me pack up my things. It was time for me to get ready for school. I imagined Dylan needed to as well, since his week-long suspension was over.

  I glanced at him as we headed for the stairs. “Whatever you do end up selling, I really hope you get to achieve all those things one day.”

  “We only get one life, Ev. Might as well do something worthwhile with it.”

  I nodded as my affection for him expanded ever more. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, about to go our separate ways, Dylan caught my hand and pulled me close. Without warning, he laid a kiss on me that stole my breath. It was a tender good morning kiss, all lips and soft tongue. I smiled into it and he withdrew, smirking.

  “See you at school, Ev,” he said, then backed away until he turned and disappeared around the corner.

  My entire body was tingling as I returned to my flat. I changed into my uniform, grabbed my school bag and coat, and headed to Sam’s. His place was always a madhouse in the mornings. With five kids in a three-bedroom flat, most of them under twelve, you could understand why. Sam was the eldest, and he was often forgotten in the frenzy to take care of all the younger ones. His parents weren’t bad people, but they were perennially frazzled and busy, trying to keep up with all their offspring.

  “Morning Ev, come on in,” his mam said when she opened the door to me. “Sam’s just finishing his breakfast.”

  “Thanks, Pam,” I replied and headed inside. Yes, Sam’s mother’s name was Pam. Sam and Pam. I sometimes liked to slag him off about it.

  Sam sat at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal, while two of his younger brothers fought over a toy. His little sister brushed the hair on her Barbie doll, and the baby sat messily eating a bowl of mush.

  “Hey,” I said and gave a wave. His mam came in behind me and turned on the tap, filling the sink in preparation for the post-breakfast dishes.

  “Maisie Feelan’s young one just applied to study Business at UCD next year,” she said, eyeing Sam.

  Sam let out an exasperated groan. “I’m only seventeen, Ma. I don’t need to apply to college until next year.”

  “Well, all I’m saying is, it’s good to plan early. On her death bed, Granny Kennedy asked me to make sure all my children stayed in school for as long as possible. She said education is the most valuable thing you can invest in.”

  “I tell you what,” said Sam, dropping his spoon into his now empty bowl. “Granny Kennedy was terribly talkative on her death bed. I think that’s final wish number eleven we’re at now, if we count brushing my teeth every night and saving myself for marriage. The woman must’ve never shut up when she was preparing for those pearly gates.”

  “Don’t be cheeky,” his mam chided, but there was a smile in her voice.

  “Okay, well, me and Ev need to head to school now,” Sam announced, getting up to grab his bag.

  When we were outside, he emitted a woe-is-me sigh. “This is her new thing, nagging me about going to college. She’s even been over at the Citizen’s Advice, asking how to apply for grants and everything.”

  “Well, you’re certainly clever enough,” I said. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Ev, I barely know what I want to do with my life next week, never mind next year. She’s getting way ahead of herself.”

  “You complain that she’s always too busy with the baby and never has time for you anymore. But she’s making time, and you’re still complaining.”

  Sam tutted and folded his arms. “What has you all high and mighty this morning?”

  “I just think you should appreciate her good intentions, that’s all.”

  He eyed me closely. “Nah, that’s not it. You look different. You’re all, like, glowing and shit. And you seem even cheerier than usual. What’s up with that?”

  “Can’t I just be cheery for cheeriness sake?”

  “Nobody’s that happy. Come on, out with it. I did note Dylan stayed behind after me and Conor left last night . . .”

  I groaned. “God, I can’t keep anything a secret from you.”

  Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh em gee, Ev. What happened? Tell me everything!”

  I inhaled a deep breath and whispered, “We had sex.”

  “What? Are you flipping serious right now? I thought you were gonna say you gave him a hand shandy or something.”

  I cringed. “Please don’t use the phrase ‘hand shandy’ around me.”

  Sam ignored me, eager for details. “So, tell me, how was it?”

  “Kinda sore. But good. I liked it.”

  “You just liked it? Wow. Dylan O’Dea is bad in bed. Who would of thought—?”

  “He wasn’t bad.” I sighed. “It was just . . . very intense. And unexpected. I didn’t think we’d go that far . . .”

  “Hold up, you used protection, right?”

  I bit my lip and looked away, taken off guard by his question. I’d been so swept up in the moment I hadn’t thought about contraception. I mean, I was a virgin. We both were. It wasn’t like we kept a stash of rubbers handy in our wallets.

  “No?” I replied finally. It came out like a question and Sam gave me a slap right across the face.

  “Hey! What was that for?”

  “You didn’t use a condom, Ev. What the hell? Do you want to end up like my mam? Or yours for that matter? Because believe me, babies might be cute to look at, but all they do is poo and pee and puke all day, and poo and pee and cry all night. Is that what you want at seventeen years of age?”

  “Jeez, cool your beans. I’m not pregnant.” I hope.

  “That’s it. I’m frogmarching you to the GP as soon as school finishes today. We’ll get you the morning after pill.”

  “Sam, you’re overreacting.”

  “I am not. You’re doing this, Ev. You can’t get pregnant. We’ll never fulfil my dreams of moving to London and sharing a swanky flat in Soho if you pop a sprog.”

  “A minute ago, you didn’t even know what you wanted to do with your life.”

  “Well, us moving in together goes without saying.”

  I shook my head, exasperated. “Fine. We’ll go to the GP if it will shut you up.”

  “Good. And no more unprotected sex with Dylan ‘can’t keep it in his pants’ O’Dea. Not until I get on Amazon and buy you a year’s supply of connies. I swear to God.”

  I couldn’t help giggling at his dramatics, but when my laughter faded and reality settled in, I realised he was right. I’d gotten so caught up in Dylan that I hadn’t given any thought to the consequences of having sex. Just because I was a virgin didn’t mean I could be careless.

  My stomach was twisted with worry all morning. Fearful thoughts ate away at me. It only subsided around lunchtime. I was making my way to the cafeteria when someone came and wrapped their arms around me from behind. I yelped in fright then turned and saw Dylan.

  His smile was radiant.

  “Hey,” he murmured.

  “Oh, hello,” I said, half happy to see him, half awkward. I’d never been hugged by a boy at school before. Well yeah, I’d been hugged by Sam, but that didn’t count.

  “Are you going to get food?”

  I bit my lip. “Uh huh.”

  “Can I sit with you?”

  “Sure.”

  Sam was already in the lunchroom eating a sandwich when we went in. He was quick to give Dylan the purse-lipped, disapproving glance of an aged schoolmarm. It was very Maggie Smith.

  Dylan frowned. “What are you staring at me like that for?”

  Sam chewed then swallowed, his voice clipped. “No reason.”

  He had that tone that said there definitely was a reason, but Dylan didn’t bite. Inst
ead he sat and pulled out his own lunch. I did the same, and caught him watching me with a tender expression. I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him, though I was smitten by his attention. I loved the way he looked at me like I was the most interesting person in the room.

  I tell you what. School days were far more exciting when Dylan O’Dea was making lovey eyes at you across the lunch table.

  A minute later, Conor and Amy joined us, both in the midst of a heated discussion.

  “You’ll never guess what happened to Amy while she was visiting her cousins,” Conor said with a grin.

  Amy elbowed him in the side. “Don’t you dare.”

  “What? You do this to me all the time, and payback’s a bitch.”

  “Did you have sex with one of your relatives?” Sam asked. “Because I’m fairly sure that’s illegal.”

  “Ew, no, I did not have sex with any of my cousins. Gross. They all look like Steve Buscemi.”

  “But if they looked like Brad Pitt you’d be all for it?” Sam continued in an attempt to rile her. I knew it by the way his lips twitched.

  Amy narrowed her eyes and gave him the finger. “Fuck you, Kennedy.”

  “No thanks,” he shot back, all sass.

  “She was looking at porn on the family computer, the big dumdum,” Conor revealed with a tut. “Her aunt checked the search history and narrowed it down to who was on the computer during the hours on the timestamp.”

  “I was bored, okay?” she said, folding her arms.

  Dylan shot her a look. “Haven’t you ever heard of Private Browsing?”

  “Uh, no, obviously,” Amy grumped. “If I had this never would’ve happened.”

  “Ah, good old Private Browsing,” said Conor wistfully. “The most loyal member of the Armed Forces.”

  Dylan chuckled. “Never lets you down in a sticky situation.”

  “Always has your back when the time comes for a covert mission,” Conor went on.

  “Ugh, please, I don’t want to think about either of you wanking off, thanks very much,” said Amy as she shot Conor a dirty look.

  I was still chuckling when a girl from Dylan’s year approached. Her name was Kirsty something, and she was one of those who’d always had eyes for Dylan. In spite of his standoffishness, he still had quite the fan club among the girls at school. Kirsty could be considered one of his most ardent admirers, but I hadn’t seen her attempt to talk to him since we started hanging out.

  She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, surprised to see her. A quick, lightning flash of jealousy struck my insides at the way she smiled at him.

  “Hey, Dyl.”

  Dyl? Ugh. She might as well just call him Pickle.

  Man, I was as sour as those sucking sweets I’d had for breakfast. I needed to chillax.

  “Uh, hi, Kirsty.”

  “So, you’re eighteen, right?” she asked, twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

  He started to frown. “Yeah . . .”

  “Me and my girls were wondering if you could buy us some alcohol this Saturday? We’re having a little pre-party before we head to Godskitchen. You’re welcome to join us, of course. I have a spare ticket.”

  “Ooooh, Godskitchen,” Sam crooned. “What ya gonna wear? Knickers and bra?”

  Seriously, it was times like these that I adored his brazenness.

  Kirsty cut him a narrowed look. “I’m wearing a dress from H&M, actually.”

  “Good idea,” Sam nodded. “Make them work for it.”

  “Don’t you have to be eighteen to get into Godskitchen?” Amy asked. She appeared irritated by Kirsty’s interruption. I knew she was the type of girl Amy vehemently disliked.

  Shallow. Blonde. Wore a lot of pink.

  “We have fake IDs,” Kirsty replied, annoyed.

  “So, forgive me if I’m being dim, but why on earth do you need Dyl to buy your alcohol for you?”

  Conor snickered at her use of Dyl. He obviously found it amusing, too.

  Kirsty’s expression soured, her pretty cat eyes narrowing further. “Don’t be a fucking bitch, Amy.”

  “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

  “Yeah well, you’re not helping,” Kirsty hissed and let out a frustrated sigh as she looked to Dylan. “You don’t need to buy us alcohol. Just come for the craic. We can, you know, do stuff.” Her sultry tone shot an arrow through my temper. Was she for real right now?

  I gripped the edge of the table, about to say something, when Dylan replied, “Raves aren’t really my scene.”

  The way he said it, so dismissive, made Kirsty’s chest deflate. She pressed her lips together, folded her arms and turned to leave. I heard her mutter something under her breath that sounded a lot like, “Well, I wish you’d tell someone what is your scene.”

  “Wow, that was cold, O’Dea,” Sam chuckled. “Look at poor Kirsty, off to lick her wounds.”

  “I don’t understand why she keeps trying,” Amy said. “Bitch gets shut down every single time.”

  “Don’t you know, our Dylan is quite the catch around these parts,” Conor replied, smirking as he looked to me. “You should count yourself lucky, Evie.”

  “It’s Ev, not Evie,” Sam cut in. “Nobody calls her that.”

  Conor glanced at me, winking. “Well, I like Evie. Maybe it can be our thing.”

  Dylan gave him a light slap on the back of the head. “Hey. Stick to the aunt, fuckface. She’s mine.”

  My stomach flip-flopped at those words. She’s mine. Gone was my jealousy about Kirsty. Dylan obviously wasn’t interested in her, not with the way he gazed at me across the table like I lit the flipping world up with Christmas lights. I wasn’t sure I deserved such adoration, but who was I to protest?

  The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. My gut gave a pang of disappointment. My time with Dylan always seemed to be over too soon. I couldn’t hang out with him after school either, because I’d promised Sam we’d go to the GP. Unfortunately, you couldn’t buy the morning after pill over the counter like you could in the UK and elsewhere. You had to get a prescription first. Anyway, I didn’t want to tell Dylan that. I was enjoying how besotted he was. There was no need to pull the curtains and let reality overshadow the stars in his eyes.

  After school, Sam waited for me at reception while I went in to see the doctor.

  “Evelyn Flynn?” the older woman asked as I stepped inside her office.

  “Yes, hi,” I replied and she looked at my details on her computer screen. I’d only been to the doctor a few times in my life, and never for anything serious. I couldn’t imagine there was a whole lot there for her to be reading.

  Finally, she turned and clasped her hands together. “Okay, what can I do for you today?”

  I cleared my throat, suddenly embarrassed. “I need the morning after pill.”

  She nodded, her expression blank, as she looked at her screen again. “All right. And how long have you been sexually active?”

  “Not long,” I whispered.

  “Can you be more specific?” she asked, all business.

  “Um, I’ve only had sex the once.”

  She looked at me now, pausing momentarily, still no expression. It was unnerving. Nodding, she turned back to her screen and typed something down. “I see a lot of girls from St. Mary’s here. They don’t usually wait so long.”

  On the surface, her words were benign, but the insult beneath was clear. Her disdain for people where I lived was obvious, and I took offence. We weren’t all reckless, sex-crazed teens having babies before our time. Some of us fell in love with boys who spoke about the human condition like it fascinated him endlessly. Boys who aspired to achieve things far beyond the reach of our perceivably low existence.

  I hated that this woman thought we were all louts, happy to live on social welfare and sponge off the government, because it wasn’t true. Sure, that did describe a lot of people, but it didn’t describe the ones I held dear, like Yvonne and Sam and Dylan. Even Conor and Amy had work
ed their way into my affections a little. We weren’t a bunch of numbers on a computer screen. We were real people with hearts and souls and feelings. But I guess those above preferred to stereotype and disregard those below. It was easier than having to emote. Easier than making the effort to understand.

  “I’m glad my patience impresses you,” I said, eyeing the doctor coolly. My cold voice, along with my carefully collected expression seemed to surprise her.

  She backtracked a little. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “Of course not,” I replied, while my tone said yes, you did. She just didn’t think I’d bite back.

  More and more I was starting to agree with Dylan’s view of the world. He hated when people figured out where he came from and looked down on him for it. Well, I now realised I hated it, too.

  I walked out of the office with the prescription I’d come for, but my mood was nowhere near as cheerful as when I’d arrived. It soured further when Sam and I walked into the pharmacy down the street and Kirsty stood in the cosmetics section. She was with two of her girlfriends, and they appeared to be browsing the fake tanning options.

  Probably stocking up for Godskitchen, I thought bitterly.

  Bitterness wasn’t a normal reaction for me, but when it came to Dylan, I was feeling all sorts of new emotions. I was possessive of him, felt like he was mine, just the same as he claimed me to be his.

  Keeping my chin up, I walked to the pharmacist’s counter and handed over my prescription. Sam was preoccupied with a text on his phone and hadn’t yet noticed Kirsty and Co. I waited while the girl went to fill my prescription, nervously biting on my fingernails. I didn’t want Kirsty to see what I was getting.

  Unfortunately, my worst fears came true when Sam and I made to leave and she spotted us. Quick as a flash she sauntered over. She wasn’t too much taller than me, but I was still intimidated.

  “Getting your monthly AIDS medication, is it?” she asked snidely and her friends snickered.

  I decided to stay quiet, not bothering to reply to her insult. Sam, however, wasn’t much of a pacifist, because he cut her a scathing look.

  “Don’t presume everyone’s as riddled as you are, Kirsty. Heard you got the clap from Danny Doolan last summer.”