Chapter 3 - Chapter 3

Morgan was lying across her bed, with her cat lying across her. Her eyes were closed behind her circle glasses, hiding her tiger eyes.

She hated the horrible uniformity of the neighbourhood and the complete lack of creativity. Her mother had promised to re-do the house but it didn’t matter.

No matter what they did to the house, whether they sprayed alcohol over it and flambéed it, it was still not home to her.

All of a sudden her sister, Ally, burst into her room.

“Ohmigosh!” she began breathlessly, “Did you know that there is a total HOTTIE next door?”

Morgan groaned and flipped herself onto her feet, then answered in Gaelic, “I don’t care if he’s bloody Chace Crawford! I want to go home.”

Ally faced her and replied “We are home Regan! I know it’s tough to change but you’ll learn to love this place!” She paused as she jerked her head towards the window which saw directly into the boy’s room. “And it doesn’t hurt that there’s a complete hottie next door.”

Just then, they heard their mother call them from the bottom of the stairs.

“We’re coming ma!” Ally called back.

“We?” Morgan asked, an eyebrow arched.

“Regan-” Her sister began to plead.

Morgan sighed dramatically and nodded, then followed her sister down the stairs.

And when she found out what her mother had to say, she wished she hadn’t.

The next door neighbours were coming for tagliatelle and tricks, goody, goody! What fun.

Not.

Morgan groaned and ran back upstairs.

It didn’t make much difference.

A few hours later, the doorbell rang.

It was a shrill annoying sound and it hurt Morgan’s ears, not at all like in Ireland. There, no one had bothered with stupid buzzers, they just knocked.

At first Morgan waited for the person to take their hand off the bell, but it went on and on.

Finally, she walked down the stairs and pulled the door open.

It was the Rude Boy.

“You,” she breathed.

Then she slammed the door shut.

Her mother came downstairs, slowly stepping until she got to the bottom of the stairs. She was not doubt shocked to see her daughter, forcing the door back, and clutching a hand to her heart.

“Sweetheart what’s the matter?” Maeve asked concernedly. Then the bell rang again and her mother realised that her guests were there.
“Morgan honey! Go change and be down here in ten!” Her mother said shrilly.

Morgan knew, from experience, that it was impossible to argue with her mother when her voice went all shrill and went upstairs.

Meanwhile downstairs, Maeve was fussing over Zack and Pete.

“Aw, your mother couldn’t make it? What a shame! Wow so big, what school do you go to?”

“Uh the Falcon High, ma’am.” Zack answered.

“Oh REALLY! Then I don’t suppose you’d mind showing my children around? One of them is in your year I should think, the other two are two years below.

“Great,” Zack answered.
“I’m in the sixth grade!” Pete interrupted.

Fortunately at that moment, Lucien, Ally, Keeley and Ciaran came in.

“This,” Maeve began pointing to the Lucien, “Is my husband Lucien.”

Lucien extended a hand.

It was smooth and well manicured. “Strange for a man.” Zack thought.

Then Maeve pointed to the girl with bunches.

“My youngest daughter Keeley,” the girl waved shyly.

“My son Ciaran,” The boy nodded in Zack’s direction.

“My oldest daughter Alicia.” Maeve said, gesturing to the other girl who smiled and said, “Call me Ally.”

Then Maeve turned as though she was looking for something.

“My other daughter should be coming downstairs right now.” She said apologetically.

“Morgan!” Maeve yelled.

And then she came down the stairs.

Her wild hair had been pulled into a long braid that fell to her waist. She was wearing a white turtle neck, black skirt and was barefoot.

Maeve sighed. “This is my daughter Morrigan, but we usually call her Morgan.”

Morgan did not even make any sign that she had seen Zack and said to her mother in Gaelic, “Mother I am not hungry. I wish to go upstairs.”

Maeve switched to Gaelic. “Sweetheart I know you don’t want this but we’ll only be in America for a short while. A year or two, so for the time being, we need to make friends so please. For me. I know I don’t deserve it but please. I’m begging you.”

Morgan wanted to tell her mother “No way!” but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, so she said quietly. “No you DON’T deserve it.” Then seated herself as far away from Zack as the table permitted.

Zack smiled at her, “Hey Red, how’s it going?”

Morgan looked away pointedly.

Everyone averted their eyes like the scene would burn their eyeballs out of their sockets. Everyone except Pete and Keeley who were too young to get the message.

Pete announced loudly to no one in particular, “I’m in sixth grade.”

Morgan looked at Pete and said clearly, “I’m glad to hear it little boy.”

Everyone was stunned but Pete, who was clearly outraged.

“I am NOT a little boy. I am a sixth grader, not a little boy! Little boys go to kindergarten, NOT the sixth grade. Like ME! THAT’S why I’m not a little kid!” Pete ranted.

For the first time, Morgan smiled. Unfortunately, she had to hide that smile behind her hand.

“Oh I am sorry. I should have known that you were no little boy. My mistake.” Morgan said as sincerely as she could manage (i.e. not very).

Everyone laughed and seemed to relax, but then Lucien went into the kitchen and came back with a huge dish of pasta with sauce and the moment he put a plate in front of her she froze like water in the arctic.

Without even touching her food, she pushed it out in front of her and reverting to Gaelic, said to her mother, “I am going to bed now. I think I have helped enough.”

And that was that.

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