Page 271 of Releasing 10
The only difference this year was Pete’s cousin’s wedding fell on the same day. The wedding was up the country and would be a weekend event, so instead of canceling her son’s party, Sinead enlisted the help of her father to hold the fort in her stead.
Leaving Grandad Healy in charge for the weekend was her first mistake.
Leaving the liquor cabinet in the good room unlocked was her second.
What was intended to be a sensible gathering of friends to celebrate her son’s fifteenth birthday had quickly veered into the mother of all house parties—with Grandad Healy at the helm of the chaos.
After spending a solid hour and a half locked in a battle of wills with Claire over Halloween costumes—and my lack of desire to wear one—we had finally joined the others downstairs.
The moment we stepped off the last step of the staircase, we were instantly swallowed up by a crowd of drunk teenagers. Not only was the entire ground level of the house heaving with costume-clad peers from school but the music blasting from one of the sixth-year boy’s decks was deafeningly loud.
“This is amazing!” Claire exclaimed as she bopped around to “Whoomp! (There It Is).”
She looked ridiculously cute in blue, spandex dungaree shorts, thigh-high white socks, matching white gloves, and a cropped, skintight red shirt. Perched on top of her straightened, blond hair was a matching red hat with the letterM.
“I have a camel toe in these damn dungarees,” I grumbled, readjusting the skintight fabric at my crotch. Becauseof coursewe were in matching costumes. “Okay, andnowI have a wedgie.”
“That’s because you have a long back,” Claire offered in a supportive tone, as she straightened my green hat. “You are the hottest Luigi I have ever seen.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “Right back at ya, Mario.”
She smiled approvingly at the outfit she had managed to emotionally blackmail me into wearing only to frown when she noticed my well-worn high-tops.
“Converse, Liz?” Claire expelled a frustrated growl. “You aresupposedto wear the green heels to match my red ones.”
“Don’t push your luck, Biggs,” I laughed, holding a hand up. “Just be glad I’m wearing everything else.”
“Holy fuck!” some random lad dressed as Batman exclaimed, coming to stand in front of us. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, girls.”
“Keep holding your breath and maybe you will,” I shot back, instantly on edge.
“Well, Luigi’s clearly on the rag,” the asshole laughed before turning his attention to Claire. “What about you, Mario?” He stepped closer and stroked her chin. The alcohol wafting from his breath was stifling. “Fancy taking a trip to Mushroom Mountain with me?”
“Fancy eating through a feeding tube?” I cut in, smacking his lingering hand away. “Touch my friend again and it’s a done deal,Batman.”
“Christ,” he growled, planting his hands on his hips. “You’re a real bitch, aren’t ya?”
“Better a bitch than a prick,” I shot back before catching ahold of Claire’s hand and walking away.
“That was really mean, Liz,” Claire scolded, hooking her arm through mine as we maneuvered through the mob—a mob that included her grandfather dancing on the kitchen island top. “He was just being friendly.”
“He was being a dog,” I corrected, keeping a protective eye on the gorgeous picture of innocence next to me. “Andyouneed to keep your guard up.”
“How come?”
“Because girls like you look like juicy bones to dogs like him.”
Her eyes widened to saucers. “Why would he think I’m a bone?”
“Never mind,” I sighed, knowing in my heart that she wasn’t quite grasping my meaning. I was fourteen months older than her and acutely aware that I knew things no one her age should. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Okay, Liz.” Big, brown eyes full of innocence stared back at me. “I will.”
“Good.” Nodding, I smiled back at her. “Because I only want to keep you safe.”
Claire’s gaze flicked to something behind me then, and her entire face lit up before a surge of panic filled her eyes. “Liz.” Her eyes flicked to mine, and she pointed over my shoulder. “Are you going to be okay if I go and talk to Gerard?”
Attending the same school, on top of the forced proximity of sharing the same friendship circle, had helped build mytolerance levels up, but I wasn’t naive enough to believe I would be okay ifhecame over to speak to me.
