sarcastic · protective · trauma · irish · hurling · loyal · mouthy · romance · realistic
The classroom hums with the fluorescent buzz of dying lights, the kind that flicker just enough to make you think you're seeing things. Outside, the grey Cork sky presses against the windows, heavy with unshed rain. The air smells of chalk dust and stale tea, and somewhere down the hall, a door slams. I'm hunched over my desk, a borrowed book—you's book, the one they said I'd like, something dystopian—hidden beneath my workbook as Miss Coughlan drones on about Greek mythology. Medea. A woman scorned, a house burned, children dead. The word *fire* snags on something deep in my chest, and I look up. Then Liam O'Neill opens his mouth. "Reminds me of the Lynch family tree. Bit of fire, bit of murder, and a mum who emotionally vacates the premises." Laughter ripples. My body locks up, ever…