And although I had almost had a heart attack when her brother Hughie rolled up outside my house with his girlfriend to pick me up, I had managed to compose myself enough to climb into the back of his car and accept the lift to their house.
All evening we had stuffed our faces with junk food, watched re-runs of One Tree Hill, and gossiped about absolute nonsense.
It was the best Saturday I'd had in years.
By seven o clock, I was bloated and strewn on Claire's bed, suffering from a sugar overload, and listening to Lizzie drone on about how much she despised Pierce.
"I don’t know what I ever saw in him," she grumbled for the hundredth time. "But whatever it was, it wasn’t worth giving him my v-card."
"Shut the front door!" Claire squealed, jumping up from her perch on my legs to gape at Lizzie. "You had sex with Pierce?"
"You're not a virgin, Lizzie?" My mouth fell open. "But you're only sixteen."
"Don’t look at me all judgy," she grumbled. "Just because you've never seen a dick."
"I haven't," Claire offered, holding her hand up. "Not even the tip."
"Neither have I," I fully admitted, shaking my head. "I've never even kissed a boy."
"That's just sad, Shan," Lizzie retorted.
I flamed beetroot red.
"Don’t be a bitch," Claire quipped. "Tell us about it."
Lizzie shrugged. "What's to tell?"
"When did it happen?" I asked.
"Thursday."
"And you didn’t think to tell us?" Claire squeaked. "Oh my god, Liz, we were in school with you all day Friday and you never once mentioned anything!"
Lizzie shrugged but didn’t respond.
Claire and I both eye-balled each other before Claire asked, "Where did it happen?"
"In his car."
"Ugh," we both groaned in sympathy.
No girl wanted her first time to happen in the backseat of a car.
"Where?"
"The GAA grounds."
"Ugh," we chorused again.
"Yeah," Lizzie deadpanned. "And word to the wise, girls, don’t give it up." Settling back on a pillow, Lizzie rested her back against the headboard and picked up her magazine before adding, "It hurts, it's disappointing, there's blood, and the boy turns into a complete spanner afterwards."
"He broke up with you?" I gasped.
"I'll kick his ass," Claire hissed.
"No," Lizzie responded. "But he's been acting all standoffish since."
"What a fucker," Claire growled.
"Yep," Lizzie agreed.
"Did it hurt really bad?" I asked, curious.
"Like a burning hot poker being rammed in your cooch," she replied.
Claire and I winced in sympathy.
"Are you okay?" I asked, feeling a deep surge of sympathy for my friend. Lizzie was hard as nails and rarely showed an ounce of emotion, but this was a big deal for any girl.
"I'm always okay, Shan," was her clipped response.
"See, that is exactly why nothing is going inside my area," Claire declared with a shudder, flopping back down and resting her head on my legs "I think I'd die if I saw a penis coming towards me."
"Claire," I chuckled. "Stop."
"She's serious," Lizzie informed me. "She's afraid of the D."
"It's true," Claire stated without an ounce of embarrassment. "I've only kissed one boy – Jamie Kelleher. We were going out for six weeks in second year, and when he tried to push my hand down the front of his jeans at the school disco, I screamed at him."
"You didn’t," I gasped.
"Oh, she did," Lizzie replied. "At the top of her lungs. Caused a right scene at the disco."
"I panicked," Claire defended, grinning sheepishly. "I didn’t want to touch his penis."
"What happened?"
"He called me a frigit bitch and broke up with me right there on the dancefloor in front of the entire school," she replied.
"What a creep," I spat.
"It's okay," Lizzie interjected. "Claire got her own back on him, didn’t you?"
"Not intentionally," she objected.
"Oh, come off it." Lizzie rolled her eyes. "You knew exactly what he would do when you went crying to him.
"Who?" I asked. "What did you do?"
Lizzie smirked. "She went running to her shadow."
I arched a brow. "Who?"
"Gibsie," Lizzie filled in.
"Oh my god." My eyes lit up. "What did he do?"
"What do you think he did?" Lizzie shot back. "He jumped in to defend her honor."
"He didn’t!"
"He did," Claire chirped gleefully.
"He broke Jamie's nose," Lizzie added.
Claire sighed happily. "It was epic."
"You could’ve come to me," Lizzie said. "I would’ve gladly kneed that eejit in the balls on your behalf –"
Claire's bedroom door burst inwards then, startling all three of us.
"Oh my god," Claire shrieked, tossing a pillow at the tall, blond boy who had invaded her privacy.
"I have a problem!" Gibsie announced, catching the pillow mid-air.
"Gerard!" Claire hissed, glaring. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"
"There's no time," he replied. "I need your help, babe."
"I'm not your babe," Claire grumbled and tossed another pillow at him. "What if I had been naked in here?"
"Then I would die a happy man," he retorted as the second pillow smacked against his chest. "It's the cat."
She frowned. "Brian?"
"You named your cat Brian?" I chuckled.
"He's not my cat," Gibsie replied. "I don’t even like cats."
I frowned. "Then whose is he?"
"My Mam's," Gibsie replied. "He's her pride and joy." He turned back to Claire and said, "He's had an episode."
"Another one?" Scrambling off her bed, she adjusted her pajama shorts and padded towards him. "Where?"
"Uh…" Shrugging sheepishly, Gibsie gestured to the door.
"He's in my house?" Claire squealed.
"Why is your cat in her house?" Lizzie asked the question on everyone's mind.
"He wasn’t feeling well," Gibsie replied. "I took him for a walk."
"You took your cat for a walk?" Lizzie shook her head. "Boy needs institutionalizing."
"It's not that strange," he huffed defensively. "I live across the street."
"Did you put a leash on him?"
"Obviously." Gibsie looked at her like it was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. "How else was I supposed to walk him over here?"
Lizzie shook her head. "Then I stand by my previous statement."
"Wow, you're a barrel of laughs, aren’t ya?" Gibsie shot back sarcastically. "Pierce is a lucky lad."
Lizzie responded by flipping him off.
"Focus," Claire snapped, clicking her fingers in Gibsie's face. "Where is he now?"
"He's in your bathroom." Grimacing, he added, "He's had an accident."
"What kind of accident?" Claire growled.
He shrugged sheepishly. "The explosive diarrhea kind?"
"Gerard!" Claire screamed, slapping his huge bicep. "I told you not to bring him over here after the last time."
"I was worried," he groaned, rubbing his arm. "I'm sorry. But you have to help me."
"Ask Hughie to help you," she growled, planting her hands on her hips. "I’m tired of rescuing you."
"I can't," he groaned. "He's dropping Katie home and picking up the lads before we go out."
"So why are you still here?" Lizzie quipped, as she flicked through a magazine.
"Hey," I admonished quietly, poking her rib. "Don’t be mean."
"Ugh!" Claire growled as she stomped out of the room with Gibsie hot on her heels.
"That boy is an idiot," Lizzie muttered, not looking up from her page. "Our friend is in love with a class-A idiot."
"He's not that bad," I replied and then quickly backpedaled. "Hold on – you think Claire's in love with Gibsie?"
Now Lizzie looked at me.
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked. "What girl in her right mind puts up with years of flirting and tormenting if she doesn’t have serious feelings for him?"
"Gerard!" Claire screamed at the top of her lungs, distracting us both. "Your cat is shitting in my bathtub!"
"I know," Gibsie groaned loudly. "It smells so bad, and he won't stop."
"I have to see this," I snickered, scrambling off the bed. "Are you coming?"
Lizzie shook her head. "Nope. I've seen more than enough of their antics to last me a lifetime, thank you very much."
Shaking my head, I hurried out of the bedroom and across the landing, reaching the bathroom doorway to see a huge, and I mean seriously huge, snow white Persian cat balancing on the edge of the Biggs family bathtub.