SUSPENSIONS AND COLD SHOULDERS
DECEMBER 17TH 2004 AOIFE
JOEY and I were on the outs.
Ever since our fight outside the Garda station last weekend, I had been on the receiving end of his cold shoulder.
All week at school, he had walked right by me in the halls like I wasn’t there, and even in the classes where we were assigned to sit together, he never once relented.
Of course, neither did I, and I had all but goaded him until I was blue in the face for a reaction.
I didn’t get one.
Not when I sat on his lap at lunch.
Not when I stabbed him with a pencil in English. Not even when I flashed him a boob in PE. Nada.
It was fairly evident that my threat to talk to the Gards had backfired on me in epic fashion.
Joey was beyond furious with me, and on the rare occasion that I had caught him staring at me, the look of betrayal in his eyes directed towards me had made me wish I hadn’t.
How was I supposed to explain to him that I was trying to help him and not betray him, if he wouldn’t speak to me?
It was beyond frustrating.
Like a glutton for punishment, my masochistic mind drifted back to the last time we had been together before shit had hit the fan at home for him.
DRUNK AS A SKUNK, Joey held me and mumbled along to The Beatles’ Don’t Let Me Down, as we swayed against each other on the dancefloor in the back lounge of Biddies. “My Granda Murphy was a big fan.”
“Of The Beatles?”
“Yeah, and of this song.” Pulling me close he pressed a kiss to the curve of my jaw and said, “When I was small, I used to ask him what the words of the song meant. He would always say that one day, when I found myself in love with a girl, I wouldn’t have to ask him what the words meant, because I would already know.” His arms tightened around me. “Turns out he was right.”
“YOU LOOK like someone stole your last Rolo,” Casey announced when she sank down on the chair beside me during big break on Friday. “Is he still ignoring you?”
“Yep.” I nodded glumly and tossed my spoon back in my yoghurt, appetite null and void. “He sure is.”
“Jesus, what did you do to piss him off this much?” She blew out a breath. “I’ve never seen him ignore you like this, not in the six years we’ve been in school together. Anytime you guys have been on the outs in the past, it’s because you’ve evoked the silent law, not him.”
I sighed wearily. “He thinks I’ve broken his trust and betrayed him.” “Did you?”
“No,” I was quickly to defend. “I didn’t. I thought about doing something that he considers a betrayal, but he freaked out, so I didn’t.”
“Then there’s no harm done, right?” Casey frowned. “What’s he still mad for?”
“Because in his mind, the very fact that I thought about it, is an act of betrayal.”
“Jesus, that boy is complicated.” “You have no idea, Case.”
“Uh-oh, speaking of complicated…” Nudging my arm with her elbow, she inclined her head towards the window to where Joey and a few of his friends were getting fairly aggressive with Mike, Paul, and a few others from our year, outside in the yard.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” I groaned, watching as he balled his hands into fists as his sides. “He better not start a—“
“Too late, it’s already started,” Casey interjected, watching right along with me as Joey and Mike Maloney started brawling on the ground. “You better go and calm that stud of yours down,” she added. “Before he gets himself expelled and I lose my eye candy for the rest of the year.”
 |
“JOEY!” I screamed, pushing through the hordes of bystanders who had made a large circle around the fight. “Stop! Wait. Would you just stop, Joey, stop!”
Joey didn’t stop.
Instead, he attacked our classmate with such bloodlust and viciousness that it resembled a dog fight, where Mike was the unknowing Labrador, and Joey was the teeth-baring Pitbull.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Podge faithfully throwing punches at Paul in his bid to protect his best friend from being double- teamed.
It wouldn’t have mattered if he was.
None of the boys in our year could fight like Joey, because, unlike the trivial fights they got into, when my boyfriend fought, it was a matter of life and death.
Because when someone threatened Joe, it sent him right back to that house, where he had to fight for his life against a man who had caused so much post-traumatic stress inside of him that I doubted a lifetime of therapy could fix.
I doubted Joey was even seeing Mike’s face as he bludgeoned him with his fists.
All he could see was his father.
“Stop!” I commanded, unafraid to get right up in his face, when nobody else would.
Because as sure as the sun would rise in the morning, I knew he wouldn’t harm a hair on my head.
“Joey, stop!” Kneeling down on the ground beside a bleeding Mike, I caught ahold of Joey’s face between my hands and forced him to look at me. “I told you to stop!”
Wild and unrecognizable black eyes stared back at me.
Great, not only had he lost himself in what I could describe as a violent bout of PTS, but he was strung out, too.
“Stop,” I commanded, keeping a firm hold on his face, as I kept his gaze. “You’re not there, you’re at school. With me.”
It took a long time for him to process my face, but once he did, I watched as the tension dissipated from his body in a sudden rush, and he slumped forward.
With his bloodied hands hanging limply at his sides, he let his head fall to my shoulder. “They hurt her,” he slurred. “They hurt my sister.”
“Who hurt Shannon, Joe? Was it Mike’s sister? Was it Ciara?” I felt him nod against my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, wrapping an arm around his back, while I cradled his head to my shoulder with the other. “It’s okay.”
The commotion around us was all too familiar, and I knew what was coming before it even happened.
“Joseph Lynch,” Mr. Nyhan bellowed, pushing through the crowds. “My office. Now! The Gards are on the way.”
