“Never mind.” Pushing my legs apart farther, he knelt between them and sighed happily. “You’re such a good little girl, munchkin.”
“I am?”
“You are,” he confirmed, walking his fingers up my thigh.
“That tickles.”
“It does?” He smiled. “Do you like it when I tickle you?”
I shrugged, feeling scared.
“I know a secret tickle,” he whispered, moving his hand up higher. “Do you want me to show you?”
PART 2
The Foundations of Friendship
BURST BALLS, BATTLE-AXES, AND BREAKUPS
Hugh
OCTOBER 27, 1994
“ONE OF THESE DAYS, I’M GOING TO CATCH YOU LITTLE TOE-RAGS,” MR. MURPHYsnarled from the side of the garden wall on Thursday evening after school. “And when I do, I’ll string the pair of you up by your bollocks. Do ya hear me? That’s the last flower bed of mine you’ll destroy with your fucking ball!”
“Aw, crap, he’s going to burst it, isn’t he?”
“He’s bluffing, Hughie.”
With my back plastered to the garden wall, I glared at the smaller boy beside me, the one with a head of golden curls, who was laughing into his hand.
“He never bluffs, Gibs,” I whisper-hissed, elbowing him. “And stop laughing.”
“What?” he replied, laughing hard, as the rain drizzled down on us. “It’sfunny.”
“No,” I argued. “What’s funny is the stupid yellow raincoat you’re wearing.”
“Hey! I’m a handsome boy in yellow.”
“You’re a troublemaker is what you are,” I snapped back. “And now I’m in troubleagain. Because of you.Again.”
“Oh, stop worrying, you big baby.” Looking thoroughly amused, he wiped a rain drop from his cheek. “Don’t be so touchy.”
“Easy for you to say,” I grumbled. “When you’re not about to lose your third football in a week.”
I knew it would happen. Old Murphy was the worst neighbor on our street, and every kid from Avoca Greystones knew what happened if your toy went over his garden wall. It didn’t come back. I was lucky to live on the other side of the street from the old crank, but Gibsie lived two houses up from him.
“Don’t be cross with me, Hughie,” he pleaded, looking up at me with those big puppy-dog, gray eyes that got him out of trouble. “You’re my big brother.”
I rolled my eyes to the heavens, but I knew he was right. We might not have had the same parents, but Gerard Gibsonwasmy brother.
Our parents were best friends since primary school and had ended up buying houses in Avoca Greystones, a twelve-house estate on the upper north side of their hometown of Ballylaggin. We lived at number four, while the Gibsons lived across the street at number nine.
Aside from the four months I’d been alive longer than him, I’d never known a world without the curly-haired troublemaker beside me. It was strange because I didn’t think of him as a friend like Patrick Feely, my best friend from school. I thought of Gibsie in the same way I thought about my little sister Claire. Gibs didn’t have to be careful with my feelings and I didn’t have to be careful with his. We could argue, fight, and say the worst things to each other and still be okay because we were brothers, and brothers always came back together in the end.
“Don’t be sad.” Gibs patted my shoulder in support, dragging me from my thoughts. “The war’s not over. We can get this one back.”
“I bet he has the knife out already.” I sighed heavily. “That was my favorite ball.”
