𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑 teenage years just got a whole lot more complicated for Teagan O'ryan with the arrival of wee English fella James maguire.
𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 a feisty girl from Derry
falls for the shy boy...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Teagan firmly believed in abolishing the hierarchy and giving the middle finger to authority figures. She would gladly overthrow the government in battle if that sort of thing hadn't gone out of style centuries ago.
But even she couldn't disagree with the highest authority going. Sister Micheal.
Erin, —despite Claire storming out and teagans suspicious protests — had decided to go ahead and print the wee anonymous lesbians story. The others, bar a hesitant James, were completely fine and on board with the idea. Apparently they saw nothing wrong with publishing someone's secrets.
Erin only started to doubt if it was a good idea when she suddenly remembered all issues of the paper needed sister Michaels approval before being printed. Teagan, —who had worn herself out by protesting against the story, — couldn't believe that Erin, Michelle, Orla, or even James couldn't see the problem with exposing the poor wee closeted lesbian. Teagan knew all too well of the burden.
Erin rallied her troops —basically told them to follow her — as they marched towards sister Michael's office, well, Teagan ditched them in the corridor. She wanted absolutely no part in this and besides, she had lessons to be in. Well, technically, she had no intention of going to double PE.
That lesson was her own personal hell on earth.
Teagan sat in the toilet stall for what felt like eternity, but when she checked her obnoxious hello kitty watch (a beloved birthday gift from Orla) it told her it had only been forty - five minutes. Christ.
By now in PE she would be weighing up the pros and cons of knocking herself out with a Camogie stick or asking Erin to hit a sliotar her way. The cons were pain, having to go to ancient school nurse who could give sister Micheal a run for her money when it came to scariness, and having to deal with the sliotar sized bump on her forehead.
She sighed and placed the lid back on her black sharpie. A poem, of sorts, about a certain Jenny Joyce was now written in block capitals over the back of the toilet door. When she was satisfied with her graffiti, Teagan placed the pen back in her blazer pocket that was draped over the back of the door on a fragile looking hook that would probably break any second under the immense weight of her blazer, heavy black bag and her uncomfortable shoes that she had tied up their by the laces.
Her tight covered legs were under her knees as she rested her head on top. Christ, who knew the was something more boring than PE?. She'd skipped lessons before. Many times, but she had Michelle with her, or Jenny Joyce and Aisling caught her before she hit the forty minute mark.
