Page 52 of The Secret We Keep
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” She plasters a fake smile on her sweet face.
“What did we say to Evie about lying?”
Her bravado falls quicker than a lead balloon. “I’m not lying.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not.” Her raised voice has an onlooker stopping before going inside.
“Okay,” I call her bluff, feeling her tense when I place my hand on her back and begin directing her inside. “I’ll let this go—”
“Thanks—”
“For now,” I interject quickly. “But we need to talk about this later.”
Morgan stops. “Why? Why do we need to talk about this, Paddy O’Keefe?”
I blink; eyes widening when I see her cheeks redden. “Because I care about you, Morgan. And I don’t like seeing you so upset all the time.”
“I’m not upsetallthe time,” she fires back quickly.
I scoff. “Could have fooled me.”
Her saddened expression catches me off guard. Shit.
Just as I go to say something, she turns and heads inside. “Come on. Evie’s about to start.”
Mum was right. When Evie saw me, her eyes grew bigger, and she smiled brightly. My heart filled with pride when she waved before heading to her starting position. The venue’s practically bursting by the time we’ve watched Evie make it to the final round of the competition.
She’s now giving us all a thumbs up before starting her final fight. She faces her opponent; some kid much bigger than her. He’s got a round face with scruffy blond hair. Up until this point, the mixed matches have been fairly evenly paired. But this bruiser of a kid looks like he’s sizing Evie up for his next meal. I don’t like it.
A gentle hand taps my arm. “Why is he staring at her like that?”
I look down at Morgan, seeing her concern the same as mine. We haven’t really spoken since being in here. “I don’t know.”
The referee walks and stands, facing the audience.
“You think I should go and stop the fight?” I ask in all seriousness, my anxiety growing by the second.
My fists tighten, but Morgan squeezes her grip on my arm, leaning closer to me. “No,” she bellows over the noise of the crowd, as both kids are announced over the loudspeaker, and each get a round of applause.
I try to relax back in my spot.
Letting go of me, Morgan reaches into her bag. “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” she reassures me, passing the bag of sweets she bought.
I take it and look down our row, checking my folks before it starts. Pops has his arms crossed, his back ramrod straight. Mum’s biting her fingernails, which is unlike her. Collectively, we’re all hoping Evie beats this kid like she did all the others in her previous fights, but the odds don’t look in her favour.
The referee asks both kids to tap hands in the middle.
Evie steps closer to the Peter Griffin looking child, holding up her balled fists.
And what does that little fucker go and do? He hits his down with so much force; everyone sees her wince and try to shake it off as she returns to her starting position.
“Hey!” Both me and Pops are on our feet. “He can’t do that,” I protest, getting a few odd looks from everyone around me. Evie doesn’t look my way, but I see pork chops smirking at her. “Kick his arse, kid.”
“Paddy, sit down.” Morgan ushers me, tugging my hand.
