The Secret Place (Dublin Murder Squad, #5)(54)

At the same time, in a cool untouched part of her mind, she sees the moon. She feels the shimmer of what it might look like in their own private midnight.

She says, ‘We’re different now. That was the whole point. So we need to be doing something different. Otherwise . . .’

She doesn’t know how to say what she sees. That moment in the glade sliding away, blurring. Them dulling slowly back to normal.

‘Otherwise it’s just about what we don’t do, and we’ll end up going back to the way things were before. There needs to be something we actually do.’

Becca says, ‘If we get caught, we’ll get expelled.’

‘I know,’ Selena says. ‘That’s part of the point. We’re too good. We always behave ourselves.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Julia says, and sucks gingerbread something mocha off her hand with a pop.

‘You do too – yeah, Jules, you do. Snogging a couple of guys and having a can or a cigarette sometimes, that doesn’t count. Everyone does that. Everyone expects us to do it; even adults, they’d be more worried about us if we didn’t do it. Nobody except Sister Cornelius actually thinks it’s a big deal, and she’s insane.’

‘So? I don’t actually want to rob banks or shoot up heroin, thanks. If that makes me a goody-goody, I’ll live with it.’

‘So,’ Selena says, ‘we only ever do stuff we’re supposed to do. Either stuff we’re supposed to do because our parents or the teachers say so, or stuff we’re supposed to do because we’re teenagers and all teenagers do it. I want to do something we’re not supposed to do.’

‘An original sin,’ Holly says, through a marshmallow. ‘I like it. I’m in.’

‘Oh, Jesus, you too? For Christmas I want friends who aren’t freaks.’

‘I feel criticised,’ Holly says, hand to her heart. ‘Should I use my D’s?’

‘Don’t be Defensive,’ Becca drones, in Sister Ignatius’s voice. ‘Don’t be Despondent. Take a Deep breath and be a Dickhead.’

‘It’s OK for you,’ Julia tells Holly. ‘If you get kicked out, your dad’ll probably give you a prize. My parents will freak. The f*ck. Out. And they won’t be able to decide who was the bad influence on who, so they’ll just play it safe and never let me see any of you again.’

Becca is folding up a silk scarf that she already knows her mother will never wear. She says, ‘My parents would freak out too. I don’t care.’

Julia snorts. ‘Your mother would be delighted. If you can convince her that you were heading to a gang bang in a coke den, you’ll make her year.’ Becca is not what her parents had in mind. Usually she practically curls into a ball when they come up.

‘Yeah, but having to find me a new school would be hassle. They’d have to fly home and everything. And they hate hassle.’ Becca shoves the scarf back in her bag. ‘So they actually would completely freak out. And I still don’t care. I want to go out.’

‘Look at that,’ Julia says, amused, leaning back on one hand to examine Becca. ‘Look who’s got ballsy all of a sudden. Good for you, Becs.’ She raises the cup. Becca shrugs, embarrassed. ‘Look: I’m so on for an original sin. But could we please make it, like, a good one? Call me a *, but getting expelled in exchange for what, exactly? Getting a cold up my gee sitting on a lawn where I can already sit any day I want to? Not exactly my idea of a good time.’

Selena knew Julia would be the hardest to convince. ‘Look,’ she says, ‘I’m scared of getting caught too. My dad wouldn’t care if I got expelled, but my mum would lose her mind. But I’m so sick of being scared of stuff. We need to do something we’re scared of.’

‘I’m not scared. I’m just not stupid. Can’t we just, like, dye our hair purple or—’

‘Totally original,’ Holly says, flicking an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, f*ck you. Or have a twitch every time we talk to Houlihan—’

Even to Julia it sounds weaksauce. ‘That’s not scary,’ Becca says. ‘I want something scary.’

‘I liked you better before you grew a pair. Or, I don’t know, Photoshop Menopause McKenna’s head onto a still from “Gangnam Style” and stick it on the—’

‘We’ve already done stuff like that before,’ Selena points out. ‘It has to be different. See? It’s harder than it sounds.’

‘What are we even going to do out there?’

Selena shrugs. ‘I don’t know yet. Maybe nothing special. That’s not even the point.’

‘Right. “Sorry I got expelled, Mum, Dad, I actually don’t have a clue what I was even doing out there, but dyeing my hair purple wasn’t original enough—”’

‘Hi,’ says Andrew Moore. He’s grinning down at them from between two matching mates, like they were expecting him, like they beckoned him over. Becca realises: it’s the way they’re all sprawled on the fountain-edge, loose, legs outstretched, leaning back on their hands. It counts as an invitation.

And Andrew Moore answered, Andrew Moore Andrew Moore all rugby shoulders and Abercrombie and those super-blue eyes that everyone talks about. The rush comes first, the breathtaking tingling surge like sweetness and bubbles cascading onto their tongues. It’s Oh God does he could he is it me, exploding up your spine. It’s his broad hands glowing now that they could wind around yours, his hard-cut mouth electric with maybe kisses. It’s you snapping to sit just right, offering up boobs and legs and everything you have, cool and casual and heart slamming. It’s you and Andrew Moore sauntering hand in hand down the endless neon corridors, king and queen of the Court, every girl turning at once to gasp and envy. ‘Hi,’ they say up to him, dazzled, and shiver when he sits down on the fountain-edge beside Selena, when his sidekicks flank Julia and Holly. This is it, this is the trumpet-blast and all flags flying that ever since the first of first year the Court has been promising, this is its magic finally unveiled and theirs for the taking.