Binding 13: Boys of Tommen #1

by Chloe Walsh

"Because I spend my time surrounded by boys who play rugby with him," Claire replied. "I heard Hughie and Gerard talking about how Johnny will only stay in Ireland for a couple of years. The boys reckon he will more than likely play abroad for a few years while their team's current center fazes out and Johnny gets senior level game experience. My brother's bet is France – the clubs over there have some serious cash to throw away. Then they'll bring him home as a world class player with the world of experience under his belt and youth still on his side."

  "God," I muttered, feeling a little queasy from this conversation. "You make him sound like a piece of meat."

  "Because that's what he is in their world, Shan," Claire replied, turning her attention to me. "A big, fat, juicy piece of premium steak."

  "I can't begin to imagine what it feels like to be under so much pressure," I whispered, my thoughts immediately rushing back to that night in his car.

  No wonder he reacted so badly.

  I'd seen the attention people gave him when we were out.

  Johnny's entire life was being played out in front of the country.

  Everybody talked about him.

  All the time.

  I think if I were him, I would crawl under my bed and hide.

  A huge swell of sympathy filled my chest, all directed at him.

  "Poor guy," I mumbled, thinking about how desperate he must be feeling to have to hide his injury.

  "Poor guy?" Helen scoffed and made a pffft noise. "There's nothing poor about Johnny Kavanagh, Shannon. The beautiful, beautiful, ride of a boy is going straight to the pros. He's already being featured on popular rugby blogs and magazines. Does that sound like someone poor to you?"

  "You should see the crowds and media at his local games," Helen added with a dreamlike sigh. "It's insane."

  I know.

  I saw.

  Maybe he was off to the pros or maybe he wasn’t.

  I didn’t think that it was any of our business to be talking about him like this.

  This was his life that was being openly discussed and I wasn’t comfortable.

  "You're awfully quiet there, Shannon," Shelly stated as her eyes assessed me with keen interest. "Don’t even pretend that he isn’t the most beautiful boy you've ever laid eyes on."

  He was, by far, the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen in the flesh.

  However, I got the distinct feeling that without the allure of fame and money that was attached to him, these girls wouldn’t be so obsessed.

  Then again, maybe they would be.

  Meanwhile, I couldn’t care less about what shaped ball he kicked around a field.

  Rugby was a sport.

  It was a game.

  It wasn’t all he was.

  It was just one part of him.

  The only part that mattered to these girls, apparently.

  It was disgusting and I refused to join in on a conversation that reminded me heavily of the conversations I'd overhead girls have about Joey.

  "I guess." I shrugged noncommittally. "He's a very good player."

  Both girls laughed.

  "She's totally blushing," Shelly teased. "Look, don’t even bother, Shan."

  I frowned. "Bother with what?"

  "Liking him," she replied. "Johnny doesn’t even look sideways at the girls in his own year, let alone girls in lowly third year."

  "Actually, that's not true," Claire tossed back cattily. "He gave her a spin home from school." She cast me a mischievous grin. "Twice."

  Blushing, I made a mental note to never tell Claire a goddamn thing again.

  Both girls swung their gazes towards me.

  "You lucky bitch," Shelly breathed, wide-eyed.

  "You were in his car?" Helen demanded.

  I shrugged, feeling very exposed in this moment, but didn’t reply.

  "And she was in the papers with him," Claire added. "Hughie showed me. All the lads were talking about it because Johnny never stands in pictures with girls."

  "He's never in the papers with girls," Helen accused. "When did this happen?"

  "Before she went out to dinner with him at Biddies," Claire offered with a huge grin. "And the cinema. Oh, and after she spent her birthday at his house."

  "Oh my fucking god!" Both girls gasped at the same time.

  "Did you score with him?" Helen asked – actually, it was more of a demand. "Oh my god, did you ride Johnny?"

  Claire looked at me with an expectant expression.

  "No! God, of course I didn’t," I choked out, spluttering on my words. "Why would you even ask that?"

  "Ah, because he's Johnny Kavanagh." Shelly rolled her eyes sarcastically. "And you were in his house. Any girl in her right mind would want to ride him."

  "Not Lizzie," Claire waved a hand in the air. "She despises rugby players."

  "That's because Lizzie is fighting with Pierce. She'll love rugby players again next week when he smooths her over again," Shelly retorted, then quickly turned her attention back to me. "Oh my god!" Planting her hands on her hips, she squealed, "Did you see his bedroom? What's it like? Does he have a huge bed? I bet it's huge. Is he driving you home from school again? Is that why he's here? Oh my god, are you two a couple?"

  "Oh god, Bella is going to be maaaaad," Helen interjected. "She'll hit the roof when she finds out you're after her fella."

  "Johnny's not Bella's fella," Claire snorted. "She, on the other hand, is everyone's girl."

  "Actually," Shelly chimed in, holding a finger up. "I heard some of the sixth-year girls in the bathroom the other day talking about Bella being with Cormac Ryan now." Arching a brow, she added, "Apparently, she's been shagging him for ages."

  "While she was with Johnny?" Helen gasped.

  "Mmm-hmm," Shelly said. "Stupid girl, huh?"

  "Well, Cormac's a good-looking guy," Helen replied with a frown. "But he's no Johnny Kavanagh."

  "I know, right?" Shelly agreed.

  Claire took a dramatic half-bow. "And there you have it," she said. "Everyone's girl."

  "Still, though." Helen chewed on her nail, gaze flicking to mine. "Bella won't be happy about you."

  "She doesn’t own him," Claire scoffed. "They were never an actual couple, and even if they were, Bella can't talk. Everyone knows that she's been riding half the school behind his back for months."

  "Yeah, but he's her horse in the race," Helen reasoned. "Operation Bind Thirteen anyone?"

  "Ugh, those girls are dopes," Claire grumbled. "I thought that stupid competition phased out last year."

  "It did," Shelly said in a sulky tone. "Bella won."

  "Operation Bind what?" I croaked out.

  "Binding Thirteen," Helen repeated, staring at me like I was clueless.

  In this instance, I was.

  "What does that even mean?"

  "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 because they're completely sad and unoriginal." She pulled a face before adding, "Apparently, Bella won."

  "I don’t get it," I admitted, mortified.

  "Johnny's jersey number is thirteen," Claire explained, looking thoroughly disgusted. "And binding is a rugby reference for engaging in a scrum – although, I'm pretty sure those girls meant engaging with Johnny in a whole different position."

  "What –why would they do that to him?"

  "Because he's impossibly picky," Shelly groaned. "And rarely looks at any of the girls around here. He's a complete snob when it comes to who he's with."

  "I suppose he can afford to be with the kind of women he's surrounded by on those tours," Helen injected.

  "True," Shelly said glumly. "Did you see those girls on their last tour?"

  "The model?" Helen asked and gave a resigned nod. "She was like twenty-seven."

  "They were all over the internet," Shelly sighed.

  "Bella won't be happy with competition," Helen offered with a grimace. "Shan, you should stay aw
ay from him, because she'll scratch your eyes right out."

  "She's a bitch," Shelly agreed. "It doesn’t matter if they're taking a break right now or not. She'll go batshit on you."

  "They're not taking an anything because they were never in a relationship," Claire grumbled. "They were glorified fuck buddies, guys. It was hardly the romance of the century."

  "It doesn’t matter," Helen countered. "You know what she's like, Claire. In Bella's eyes, she and Johnny are on a break, and she will lose her shit if anyone gets in her way."

  "I wasn’t with him," I choked out, the fear of having my eyes scratched out by a sixth year making my stomach churn violently. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I still had a faint scar on my right eyelid to prove it. "I swear."

  "Shannon, relax," Claire interjected, coming to stand beside me. "No one is going to touch you."

  "I wouldn’t be so sure about that," Helen piped up, looking worried. "Bella can be a right bitch when she wants to be."

  "Oh yeah?" Claire shot back, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Well, so can I."

  "Wh-what?" I whispered, feeling like my stomach was about to fall out of my butt. "But I wasn’t... I'm not…I didn’t do anything –"

  The sound of the school bell beeping filled my ears, interrupting me, and instead of trying to explain my way out of this messed up conversation, I grabbed my gear bag and bolted for the door.

  "Shannon – wait!" Claire called after me, "Just wait for me!"

  I didn’t wait.

  Instead, I ran at top speed out of the P.E hall, pushing past the lads coming out of the boys’ changing room and stumbling down the steps in my attempt to get as far away from potential confrontation as possible.

  I couldn’t take this.

  Not today.

  I couldn’t take another argument.

  Not with my parents, or Bella Wilkinson, or anyone else.

  I just couldn’t do it.

  It was too much.

  I made it to the laneway leading out of the school, feet still pounding against the concrete, when the heel of my shoe got wedged in a crack in the middle of the road and almost caused me to fall head-first onto the wet asphalt.

  Thankfully, I managed to right myself in time to save myself from another concussion.

  Aware that several students were openly watching my mini-meltdown, I slowed to a brisk walk.

  Hobbling over to the footpath, I waited for a large crowd of boys to pass before falling into step several feet behind them.

  Jesus.

  Were Helen and Shelly right?

  Was Bella going to come after me?

  Because Johnny gave me a spin home?

  Oh god my heart, my poor, frazzled heart was battering my ribcage.

  My stomach was rolling.

  I felt like I was going to be sick.

  No, rephrase that to I was going to be sick.

  Climbing over the low fence that separated the path from a wooded area, I ran into the bushes, dropped my bag on the wet grass, ducked behind the nearest tree, and vomited violently.

  There was very little in my stomach, but the apple I'd eaten earlier came up in glorious fashion.

  Shuddering in revulsion, I remained in a crouched position, inhaling several calming breaths, while I attempted to calm myself down.

  My entire body was trembling violently, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the rain pelting down on me or the sheer terror in my heart.

  I suspected both.

  Several minutes later, when I was sure I could move again, I stood up gingerly and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  Pressing a hand to my stomach, I exhaled a ragged breath and looked around.

  Thankfully, I had managed to position myself out of sight from the lane.

  This time.

  I reached into my schoolbag for my water bottle only to realize that, in my haste, I had grabbed the wrong bag.

  My school bag was back in the P.E hall.

  "Crap," I croaked out.

  Shoulders sagging, I slung my gear bag onto my back and made my way back to the road.

  I didn’t bother running this time.

  I was all out of energy.

  I was all out of everything.

  If Bella wanted to hurt me, then no amount of running away would change that.

  She would find a way.

  They always did.

  The worrisome thing was I didn’t know what she looked like.

  I didn’t know who to watch out for.

  Everyone, my brain insisted. Trust nobody.

  With the rain pouring down on me, seeping through my clothes, I walked slowly back to the P.E hall with my head down and my flight-mode deactivated.

  There was a steady stream of fast flowing water running down the road and the grassy dike to the left of the path was underwater that I was careful to avoid when I crossed over towards the P.E building.

  Unlike earlier when I had been running and not taking any notice of the weather, I was achingly aware of my surroundings now – and the shitty Irish weather.

  God, if it didn’t stop raining soon, the town would be put under flood alert.

  It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Cork in the winter and sometimes early spring.

  Hell, it could even flood in the summer in Cork.

  Without the protection of the coat I had left in my locker, my clothes were soaked right through.

  My feet were wet, my socks drenched from scurrying around trying to find a spot in the woods to vomit. The sensation of my wet uniform clinging to my equally wet skin made me feel both icky and cold.

  Everyone was gone when I eventually returned to the hall, the earlier noise and bustle from my classmates noticeably absent.

  Grateful for the temporary shelter from the monsoon outside, I went straight for the girls’ changing rooms and breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted my schoolbag on the bench where I had left it.

  I was still getting used to my things not being touched in this school.

  I walked over to my bag and picked it up, only to notice a torn-out page from a copybook flutter to the floor.

  I ignored it.

  Soaked to the skin, I grabbed my emergency pouch, trudged into the bathroom and quickly brushed my teeth, gagging when the brush poked the back of my throat.

  When I was finished cleaning my mouth, I rinsed off the toothbrush and tucked it back inside the small zip lock bag with the paste and walked back to my get my bag.

  Checking my watch, I noted that it was 4:25.

  Aside from my shorts and jersey and a clean pair of underwear, something I always carried, I didn’t have a spare change of clothes at school, so I would have to suffer on until I got home.

  My bus wasn’t for another hour but I knew I would much rather wait at the bus stop for it to arrive than risk bumping into Bella inside the school.

  Even though I didn’t know what Bella looked like, I wasn’t prepared to put myself through that level of worry.

  Not even for my coat that was still in my locker.

  The rain was worth my peace of mind.

  Tucking my emergency pouch back into the front pocket of my schoolbag, I hoisted it onto my back and settled the straps of my bag on my shoulders, before reaching for the note.

  Shan,

  I should’ve kept my fat gob shut. I really didn’t mean to upset you. I thought we were all joking around and I got caught up in the banter. Sometimes, I forget about all the horrible things those girls did to you. It's hard because you seem so happy here… and different? Different in a good way.

  And don’t take any notice of Shelly and Helen. They are complete drama-whores. Bella won't lay a finger on you. I promise.

  Anyway, I'm really sorry and please text me when you get home.

  Love Claire. x.x.x

  I read the note three more times before stuffing it into the pocket of my skirt. Then I tucked my gear bag under the bench next to Claire's before leaving the changing room.

  I
wasn’t mad at Claire.

  Their banter was perfectly normal.

  It was my reaction to the banter that I was mad about.

  My constant overreaction to everything.

  I needed to work on myself.

  I needed to stop being scared all the time.

  It was hard, though, when I spent most of my waking hours in a constant state of paranoia and anxiety.

  Joey told me that I had to fight back.

  He said it again last night when he was rubbing my back as I tried to breathe through a panic attack.

  He told me that if he ever put his hands on me again I should grab a weapon.

  I was afraid to, though.

  I was terrified of unleashing something I might not be able to rein back in.

  It was because of my lack of action that my brother ended up taking a beating last night.

  I knew Joey didn’t blame me for his broken nose, but the text message I'd received from him earlier, letting me know that he was staying with Aoife for the night, made the prospect of going home a terrifying one.

  He was bailing out and I didn’t blame him.

  If I had a safe place to fall, I would hurl myself towards it.

  That's what Aoife was to my brother.

  Joey had Aoife and I had no one.

  Deep in thought, I was at the bottom of the steps outside the P.E building when the sound of my name being called rocketed through the air.

  "Shannon."

  Turning around, I watched as Johnny jogged down the steep steps of the building, pulling up the hood of his navy jacket as he went.

  Don’t overreact and run, I silently commanded as my feet twitched beneath me. Just say hi.

  Realizing that I was physically nodding along to my mental affirmations, I cleared my throat and offered a weak, "Hi, Johnny."

  "Hi, Shannon," he puffed, coming to a stop in front of me. "How's it going?"

  "Okay," I squeezed out as I tried to keep my features impassive. It was an impossible feat when every ounce of blood in my body was rushing to my face, encouraged by my thunderous heartbeat. "You, uh, were in the hall?"

  "Yeah." Johnny nodded. "I had a few things I needed to go through with Coach." A small smile pulled at his lips. "You weren't messing when you said you didn’t play any sports, huh?"

  I flamed in embarrassment.

  "Ah, no, I wasn’t."

  "How's your Mam?" he asked, blue eyes sharp and probing.