Fairway

Chapter 3: Eireann

I didn't wake until morning—Keira hadn't called for a ride. I thought for a sleepy moment that she'd found another way home, but then I looked around: no phone on the bedside table, no jacket tossed over a chair, the same amount of allergy medication in the blister pack as they day before. And no Keira in the bed, which was the biggest clue—Keira never got up before me. Keira hadn't come home.

I looked at my phone. Around four a.m. Keira had texted: "Staying out all night! Cover for me!!" I beat my way out from under the quilt grumpily. Our golf lesson was in an hour, and if Keira was coming back with me, I couldn't tell our moms she was "sleeping in" or "not feeling well." I wondered why I was even bothering. Keira never covered for me.

I went upstairs and was relieved to find the kitchen empty. I grabbed a banana off the counter and the car keys from the dish I'd left them in, and I'd almost made it out the door when Mam came in.

"Going to your lesson?" she asked.

I nodded. "Keira's already outside, I better go or we'll be late."

Mam beamed. "I might come by later and join you at the driving range."

Mam for sure would not do this. She probably wouldn't even make it to the course until the second-last day of the vacation, when she'd remember she'd forgotten her lucky socks, or her favorite tee, and turn around and come right back to Grandma's. Mam liked the idea of golf much more than actual golf, and I wasn't sure if Mam had figured that out yet. It made it easier to cover for Keira, anyway.

"Okay, sure. See you." I made a clean getaway before Mam could start going on about double bogies or backspin.

***

I'd hoped to find Niall and Keira at a table in the golf course's restaurant, but the only people in the room were a waitress I hadn't met before and two old men bragging about their drives. I sighed. Apparently I wasn't done covering. But if Keira hadn't shown up by the end of our lesson, I was done, hang the sisterly code. Keira didn't get to just walk out of my life for eight months, waltz back in when she felt like it, and expect everything to be the same.

I trudged over to the clubhouse. It was already hot and while I'd tried to preempt the humidity's effect on my hair by wearing a baseball cap, I expected I still looked like a freshly washed poodle by the time I pushed through the clubhouse door.

Finn was behind the counter again and nodded at me, but his eyes were already drifting around the room for Keira.

"She's not here," I said, sharper than I'd meant to, and Finn started. "She's not feeling well."

Finn looked like he wanted to ask further about Keira's health, but fortunately, the golf instructor banged through the door. He was Mom and Mam's age and looked more like a linebacker than a golfer, with biceps that strained the sleeves of his Galway polo.

"I'm Matt," he said cheerfully. "I thought there were supposed to be two of you?"

"That was the plan," I said, "but my sister's too hungover."

"She went to a party?" Finn asked, strangled.

Matt patted Finn on the shoulder. "Don't worry, buddy. One day you'll get invited."

I was only ever in Galway for two summer weeks, and I had no idea if Finn was popular or not. He could be—he was nice, and cute, and—and I needed to stop this. He liked Keira.

"Yeah, yeah," Finn said wearily and disappeared into the back room. He came back with a purple golf bag stuffed full of mismatched rental golf clubs and held it out to me. "Have a good lesson," he muttered.