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Iknewwhat an airplane was.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she laughed. “How am I supposed to know you know these things.”
I gave her another look, telling her with my eyes that I wasn’t stupid.
“Okay, okay,” she chuckled, holding her hands up. “I’m sorry for doubting you, sweetheart.”
I smiled.
“Oh, you like surprising me, don’t you?”
I grinned.
“Clever girl,” she praised, hooking her arm around my shoulders. “You’re as sharp as a razor in there, aren’t you?”
Nodding, I looked over to where Daddy was sitting with Caoimhe and frowned.
I knew they were cross with me.
I just didn’t know why.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered, tightening her arm around me. “They love you, too, sweetheart. Just like Mammy loves you.”
JANUARY 6, 1992
Lizzie
“NO,” CAOIMHE ARGUED. “NO WAY. I’M NOT MOVING SCHOOLS AGAIN.”
“Caoimhe, love, we’ve talked about this. Please try to understand.”
“I’m not fucking moving again,” she screamed. “I have friends at St. Joseph’s, and you promised I could go back to my old school when we came home.” She shook her head and backed toward the door. “You promised, Mam!”
“We tried, Caoimhe,” Mammy told her, looking sad. “But the principal said it’s not possible to re-enroll you. They don’t have the space, love.”
“It’s not fair,” my sister cried, sobbing loudly. “My life is fucking over!”
“Don’t say that,” Mammy said, trying to coax. “You’ll be just as happy over at St. Theresa’s.”
“But it’s an all-girls school,” Caoimhe cried. “Run by the nuns.”
“It’s only for a year and a half, and then you’ll go off to secondary school and meet up with all your old friends.”
“I fucking hate you!” Caoimhe cried. I was still sitting on the step when she barged past me. “Get out of the way,” she screamed, shoving me with her foot. “You’re always in the fucking way, Lizzie!”
“Caoimhe!” Mam shouted, following after her. “Don’t you dare take it out on your sister!”
I wanted to tell her I was sorry, but I couldn’t get the words out.
“It’s not your fault, Lizzie.” Mammy smiled and crouched down in front of me. “You haven’t done anything.”
I reached up and cupped her cheek in my small hand.
Sniffling, she closed her eyes and covered my hand with hers. “I’m not crying, sweetheart,” she said, answering the question in my head.
She was.
I could feel the wet on my hand.
