CAUSEWAY

Chapter 1
Cillian and Liam closed their eyes as the station wagon sputtered up the hill. It was raining outside and everyone in the car knew Duff didnt drive well in the rain. Mrs. Callahan was sitting next to him, a map sprawled across her lap. She braced the armrest as he maneuvered the car up the slippery road. What is the street called again? Duff demanded. Mrs. Callahan attened out the map and scanned across it with her nger. Boland Drive, she tapped the page. The wipers whipped violently against the windshield. It runs parallel to this road. Boland? he said. Boland, she repeated.
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Duff readjusted his glasses over his nose and leaned forward, hunching his shoulders to see out the front window. It made him look small but Patrick Duffy or Duff as the boys called him wasnt a small man. He was big and burly, with a large gut and long chicken legs. When he was school age, he played hurling. The best hurler in the whole county, hed say. Now, at fty-six, he was a bank manager in Cork. He spent a lot more time talking about his days as a fullback though. Next to him Mrs. Callahan appeared petite. Her thin frame was usually hidden under long dresses and heavy sweaters, and she had chestnut hair that was always pulled back tightly in a bun as if it held her face together. Even with little make-up on though, she was a beautiful woman, with high cheekbones and a smile that made her look years younger than forty-six. Duff slapped his hand against the steering wheel. I dont see any signs, he barked. I cant see anything two feet in front of the damn car. Night had crept up in the last hour or so, and the sky was dark. Its blackness, mixed with the downpour of rain, made it nearly impossible to see anything out of the front window. From the rearview Cillian could see Duff s face grow purple, as if he were unsuccessfully trying to blow up a balloon. He had seen this face before. When his
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stepfathers eyes darted his way he knew well enough to quickly drop his stare. Theres a stop up here. Mrs. Callahan knocked on her window at the gravel parking lot a few yards ahead of them. Turn in, she instructed. Duff moaned in compliance as he pulled the car into the closest spot outside the convenience store. The old station wagon jerked to a stop. Five minutes, everyone. He yanked the keys from the ignition and opened the car door. Outside, heavy rain clapped against the pavement. He quickly grabbed the map from his wife, tucked it into his jacket pocket, and slammed the car door behind him. Cillian watched as he dashed up the stairs to the store like a soldier reaching a checkpoint. How much longer, Ma? Liam inquired, once Duff was inside. Twenty minutes or so, Mrs. Callahan told him. Liam rolled his eyes at the thought of more driving. They had been driving for the whole day, having gotten stuck in bumper-to-bumper trafc just outside of Waterford for three hours. They then lost more time when Duff insisted on taking his short cut, which ended up sending them thirty miles in the wrong direction. Youre the one who has been there
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before, Duff yelled at Mrs. Callahan in his defense. Im just a city man. Daylight was wasted, and now the city man had to get directions to help nd the estate in the veil of night a tricky task indeed. If you have to use the bathroom I suggest you go here, Mrs. Callahan directed. We wont be stopping again till McNamaras. She looked back at Cillian through the opening in her headrest. Are you coming in? Cillian shook his head. Mrs. Callahan unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her sweater up over her head to cover her hair from the rain. Suit yourself, she sighed. Lets go, Liam. She opened the car door and sprinted out, and Cillian watched as they hurdled a puddle and scampered inside into the convenience store. Once they were out of sight he leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, drifting back to what happened that morning in Cork. Hello? Mrs. Callahan had picked up the phone right before they were about to leave for school that morning. Yes, this is she. They were already running ten minutes late for school and St. Michaels didnt allow students to play

in matches if they were late even if it was their mom who was responsible for it. That afternoon Cillians football club had their nal match of the season against Glanmire. If they won they were headed to the playoffs. We would love to. Mrs. Callahan addressed the voice on the other line. Cillian booted his football against the door, striking the mail slot. Cillian James! his mother shouted in, covering the phones mouthpiece. Will you please! She went back to her conversation. Of course, she said, we will be there as soon as we can. She hung up the receiver and without looking up said to Cillian: Were leaving for your Aunt Margarets. Go pack a bag. She picked the phone back up in a hurry and dialed Duff. Cillian was condent that his mother had lost her marbles. What about my match? he yelled into her from the front foyer, but she was too engrossed with her thoughts to hear his complaint.

Patrick, she said urgently once Duff picked up. Its Lady Margaret. Her nurse called. She wants us up there. There was a loud bang on the car window, abruptly awaking Cillian from his daydream. He opened his eyes and spotted Liam outside the car, swinging a candy gummy worm between his teeth. Open up, Liam pounded, Im getting soaked. Cillian pushed open the door and slid over as Liam and his parents hopped back in. Are those gummy worms? Yep. Liam took another bite and dangled one in front of him. Want one? No. Cillian didnt feel like candy. He didnt feel like anything. He just wanted to go home. Duff tugged on his seat belt and stretched it back over his broad gut, before backing out onto the dark road. Lets try this again, shall we?

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Chapter 2
Orla walked into Room 206 and panned the classroom for Liffey. She spotted her in the back row, sitting next to Jenny and the other girls, and she gave her a wave. There were no other available seats in the back of the room though, so Orla weaved around a pocket of students and slipped into an open chair in the front. She wished she could get to class early so she didnt have to sit directly across from Mrs. Tudors desk, but her fth period class was in the gymnasium, which was on the rst oor, all the way at the opposite end of the school. So there was little time for her to get to Room 206 before her eager classmates had scooped up all the best seats. This is why you usually skip this class, Orla thought, as she pulled out her notebook and pushed it onto the table.

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Territories and the Royal Code was a required course, meant to review what First Years learned in Primary School, but truth be told, none of the students took it very seriously, and Orla found all of it to be quite boring. So boring in fact that she often wondered if she would ever make it off of Stoneweather grounds or if she would just die there, inside the dim, stuffy walls, from the tediousness of listening to Mrs. Tudor speak. Killed by boredom. It was now ve months into the school year and Orla had skipped more classes than she had attended. She didnt even know what chapter they were on anymore or what they were learning about or how many quizzes in total she had missed. All she knew was that in an hour she could get up from her chair, burst open the double doors of the school and escape home. The familiar bong of the Stoneweather clock tower rang out, and on cue the sound of high heels clicked across the classroom oor. Mrs. Tudor, draped in charcoal grey from head to foot, walked over to her desk and ung her attach onto her chair. The last lingering students scampered to their seats. Suddenly, as she sat glaringly present in the very front of the room, Orla began to regret her frequent absenteeism. She sank lower in her chair until she was so far down her eyes barely peeked over the
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desk. Somehow this was supposed to keep her hidden from her teacher, but mostly it just made her neck cramp. Ill take that. Mrs. Tudor snatched a note from Kevin Donnellys hand and tossed it onto her desk. She opened her tattered attendance book and surveyed the room for empty seats. Andrew? she began roll call. Here. Cavan? Cavan sprung up from his chair and wiggled his hand ercely in the air. Present, he called, and the class erupted into a wave of laughter. Cavan, along with Nile and Ryan, were sons of former Advisors to the Queen. They walked around campus thinking they could get away with whatever they wanted. Most of the time, they did. Enough, Mrs. Tudor slammed her hand against the desk and the rowdy voices attened, like a cotton shirt to a hot irons touch. She went on with roll call without addressing the boy. Orla? Orla lifted her hand timidly, her body still cowering behind her desk. Here, she replied.
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Mrs. Tudors gaze curled down to her before roughly crossing the girls name off the list. She nished roll call and retreated to her desk. Last week we discussed Territories, she announced, ipping open her textbook. Liffey Liffey jumped in her seat and Mrs. Tudor focused on her, Name the three Territories on the Island. That was easy, thought Orla. They had all learned about Territories in Level Seven and Liffey knew them like the back of her hand. Royal Parish, Inis Parish, and Sprite Territory, Liffey listed. Mrs. Tudor just stared at Liffey for a moment, and Orla watched her friends face turn reddish. Finally their teacher gave her small nod of approval and Liffey could breath again. Good, said Mrs. Tudor, very good. She stood up and skirted around her desk to the front of the class. James, she moved on.How old must one be to enter Royal University? Orla glanced over at James McCreary, who was seated in a desk pushed up against the window. In every class she had with him he always sat in a desk near the window, as if a compromise to himself that if he couldnt be outside he would at least sit close enough to view it.

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Orla could tell from James darting eyes that he didnt know the answer, and part of her wished she could somehow whisper it in his ear without being seen. Can someone help James out? Mrs. Tudor demanded nally, after a few moments of struggle. Age eighteen for lead entrance. Age twenty for post-lead, Amy Lockney shouted from the back of the room. Mrs. Tudor icked through the pages of her textbook. Im glad someone did the reading, she murmured. Now, lets go to chapter eight. You were all to have read the rst section last night. Everyone quickly unzipped their bags and retrieved their textbooks, eager not to be Mrs. Tudors next victim. Everyone but Orla. She was too busy watching James, who was still visibly embarrassed that he couldnt answer Mrs. Tudors question. She shot him a small smile, but he quickly looked away from her and returned his stare to the window. Orla rummaged through her bag and felt her stomach drop. She had forgotten her book. She could see it now, lying in her stupid locker, just meters out in the hallway. A lot of good that did her. The only book she had with her was the Royal Code Handbook, so she pulled it out and placed it
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on her desk, opening to a random page, hoping she could pass it off for the remainder of the lesson. She glanced up at the clock above the doorway. There was only twenty minutes of class left. In her distraction, Orla didnt hear her name being called. Orla? Yes, Orla nally snapped back, before realizing who was calling her. Yes, Mrs. Tudor, Mrs. Tudor corrected, her tone deliberate. Yes, Mrs. Tudor, Orla repeated, much more agreeably. She was annoyed with herself for getting caught in a daydream. Please read where Kelly left off, Mrs. Tudor instructed. Orlas insides leaped about like she had swallowed a jumping bean. She glanced down at her Royal Code Handbook, its cover bent right the down the middle from having carelessly stuffed it in her bag all year. I think I think I may have brought the wrong book, she stammered, running her nger over the covers crease. You think, or you know?

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Orla held up her Handbook. I know, I suppose. She smiled awkwardly, but it was clear to everyone else in the class that Mrs. Tudor was not amused. And youre just noticing this now? Orla nodded. Well, perhaps if you attended class you would be able to better remember which book is which, Miss Walsh. Mrs. Tudor approached her desk and ripped the book from Orlas hands. This here is the Royal Code Handbook. She swept through the dog-eared pages and opened up to page 93. Read that for us, will you, she poked at the rst paragraph. Orla looked down at the text. She already knew the lines without having to recite them. Students who refuse to obey classroom rules may be subject to demerits, suspension, or in certain circumstances expulsion. No sooner than she had nished the paragraph, Mrs. Tudor snapped the book shut. In that case Im going to ask you to leave. What? said Orla. Was she really kicking her out?

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Please leave, Mrs. Tudor handed her Handbook back to her. Next time come to class with the right book. You can collect your demerits after school tomorrow. Orla made the embarrassing walk out of the classroom and upon leaving put of the corner of her eye she saw James McCreary giving her a consoling smile. Orla fumed as she paced in front of the lockers, waiting for classes to let out. How could Mrs. Tudor humiliate her like that? Teachers were not designed to be cruel. They werent supposed to kick you out of class for forgetting a book. The clock tower rang again, signaling the end of school and dozens of students stampeded into the hallway. Orla spotted Liffey and Jenny through the bobbing heads, as they strolled down the corridor behind the herd. What are you still doing here? Liffey made her way over to the lockers. How could I leave after that? Did you watch what happened? Jenny opened her locker and slipped her books onto the shelf. It was awful, she shook her head.

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Thank you, agreed Orla. She threw her back against the locker next to Liffeys. It was completely uncalled-for. Liffey cocked her head. What? Youve missed her last four classes, Liffey reminded her. Ive been ill. Liffey spun the dial to her lock and tugged it open, I hardly think going to the Falls to swim qualies as being ill. Well, she didnt have to kick me out. She couldve just dealt me a strong warning or something. Because strong warnings have worked so swimmingly on you in the past. Whos side are you on? Orla looked at her. Jenny interrupted their argument, closing her locker door: Didnt you hear what happened? Orla shook her head, No, what? I told you about this, insisted Liffey. You never listen. Orla waved Liffey off and encouraged Jenny to go on.

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Mr. Tudor was chosen as Advisor last year, she said. Orlas brows furrowed, How did you nd that out? Liffey told me. They looked to Liffey. She shrugged, Nile told me. His father found out through the Cabinet. I didnt know you heard it through Vile Nile, Jenny teased. They laughed. Vile Nile was the nickname Orla and Jenny had given Nile over the summer, and they were quite pleased with their clever rhyme. Liffey didnt nd it as funny. So, what happened? asked Orla. She nudged into Liffey but Liffey stayed quiet. Come on, Liff. We were only kidding. Liffey was annoyingly defensive when it came to Nile, as if she had any reason to show loyalty the boy. Jenny went on with the story instead. Do you remember when the Queen came here last year? she said. Orla nodded, vaguely recalling her visit. Well, at the monthly meeting she asked to speak to Mr. Tudor alone. Mr. Leery told my dad later
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that they talked for more than two hours in the back room. Anyway, a couple of weeks later he got a letter telling him he was chosen as Advisor. Each year the Queen appointed ve Advisors to sit on her Cabinet. Orla wasnt exactly sure what their job was but it had something to do with governing Causeway, and whatever it was they did, it was quite important, as they were paid a large sum to do it. Has he been transferred already? Orla inquired. Jenny nodded, He left last summer. I cant believe you didnt know this. I told her this, Liffey insisted, throwing up her arms in disgust. Well, Mrs. Tudor was a wreck about it, Jenny continued, doling out the juicy details. She begged him not to go. Made a whole scene of it. I think she was even ned by the Royals. Individuals who were asked to be Advisors were required to accept the Queens invitation. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. The Cabinet request took precedence over family, children, and in Mr. Tudors case, spouses.

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She only gets to see him once a year, Liffey explained. Can you imagine that, only getting to see your family once a year? I couldnt do that, Jenny decided. Well, at least all of this explains her outburst, Orla murmured. Liffey laughed at Orlas selective pity, Actually, I think you not attending her classes explains her outburst. Orla shot her friend a look. You do realize best friends are supposed to have each others backs, right? Even when theyre wrong? countered Liffey. Especially when theyre wrong. Orla slumped down to the hallway oor. She humiliated me in front of everyone! No one was even paying attention to it, said Liffey. Yeah, Jenny reassured. Plus, no one goes unscathed in her classes. Did you see James face? Thats different from being kicked out of class. trust me, said Liffey, no one even noticed. Orla saw Nile Crowes leather boots drawing near. Nile Crowe even his name sent shivers up her neck.
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No one noticed what? he inquired, as he leaned over and opened the locker next to Liffeys. Nothing, barked Orla. Nile was a graduate of Brighton Primary, the school of the gifted and talented. But really Brighton was the school for rich children whose parents worked in Royal Parish. It was schooling for the snobs and was nothing like Nimble Primary, where the girls had attended. Unfortunately, once students reached Level Seven, the graduates from all four Primary Schools were joined together to attend the Stoneweather Academyor the Royal University Preparatory School. To think, Stoneweather was the only reason why Orla had to see Niles mug on a daily basis. It was just another reason why she avoided school like the plague. You look nice today, Liffey, marked Nile as he stuffed his notebook into his already full locker. Liffey smirked, Thank you. Her face turned a rosy red, which it so often did when Nile was near. Orla, on the other hand, had an entirely different physical reaction when she had to speak with the boy. She likened it to a sudden, violent urge to throw up. Lets go, Liff, insisted Orla.

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Nile must have sensed her growing agitation. He gently kicked the sole of her shoe and smiled down to her. You know, he pointed down the hall, I saw you roaming around earlier, did you get yourself in trouble or something? How about you keep your thoughts to yourself for a change, Orla blurted, hastily pulling herself up off the oor. Someones surly today... Catching up on some of last years vocabulary words, Nile? Well, when you dont get kicked out of class, you actually learn some. Orla pushed Niles shoulder into the wall and he ailed into the locker. She was surprised at how easily he budged. Surprised and pleased. Orla! Liffey yelled. What is your problem? He should mind his own business, thats my problem! Liffey leaned toward him, Are you all right? Nile rubbed his shoulder and gave Liffey an assuring nod. As if it really hurt, thought Orla. He was almost a foot taller than she was.
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When Liffey looked away Orla saw a smirk grow on Niles face. He looked very pleased with himself. If I had a tine, Orla muttered, low enough so Liffey couldnt hear her, I swear I would use it on you. Oh yeah? Nile goaded, still coddling his shoulder. Yeah, she replied. Only Patrol carried tines and Orla knew that but it still felt good to threaten Nile. He needed to be threatened more often. Mrs. Tudor is coming, Jenny warned, shushing them, and the foursome watched as their teacher hurried past them down the hall. Can we leave now? Orla pleaded once Mrs. Tudor had ducked into a classroom. She looked over at Liffey, who was still too taken with Nile to hear her. Liff she tried again. Well, goodbye ladies, Nile announced for the whole hall to hear, I have to go. He brushed by Orla, the smart grin still on his mouth. You stay out of trouble now. Orla lunged for him but Jenny held her back. Its not worth it, she said as they watched him traipse down the hall.

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I hate him, huffed Orla, adjusting her sweater. I really do. Liffey was too preoccupied watching Nile that she couldnt hear Orlas diatribe. But Orla had a hunch that even if she had heard it, it wouldnt have made the slightest difference.

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