“Biggs give you an answer about the cinema yet?” I heard Donal Crowley whisper during Religion class on Tuesday afternoon.
“Nah, but I’m not worried about it,” Jamie Kelleher whispered back. “She’s just playing hard to get.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, lad, she’s obviously going to say yes.”
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Rage. It was bubbling up inside of me at a rapid rate. Taking ahold of my mind in ways that I never knew it could, morphing me into what I could only compare to a ticking time bomb.
“You know, even if she agrees to go out with you, you’ll be hard pushed to get a kiss on the cheek from that one. Pretty sure she’s one of those pioneers, lad. You know the ones that take the pledge during their confirmation to abstain from all things before marriage.”
“Not for much longer.”
“Gibs,” Johnny whisper-hissed from the chair beside me. “Breathe.”
I was trying, really I was, but the more the two pricks at the desk behind us continued to gossip, the angrier I grew.
“I don’t know, lad. She seems like a good girl.”
“Yeah, but that’s even better, lad, because good girls can be trained.”
“Breathe,” Johnny repeated, pushing down hard on our shared desk to stop it from shaking. “You’ve already had lunchtime detention for fighting with Murph,” he whisper-hissed. “Don’t get yourself locked up for the rest of the week.”
How? How was I supposed to take a fucking breath? My entire body was thrumming with barely contained energy. My knees were bopping so violently, the desk was shaking. I wanted to maim something. Correction, I wanted to maim the bastard sitting behind me.
“So, what’s the plan? Wine and dine her first?”
“Pretty much, lad. I’m going to take her on a few dates and get it out of the way so we can get to the fun part … ”
And that was all I could take. Fuck detention. I would gladly park my ass in the bold chair for the week if it meant that I got to shut these bastards up.
“You’re a dead man!” I roared, losing all control of my body. My desk went flying at the same moment I lunged for Jamie and Johnny lunged for me. “I’m going to rip your fucking tongue out for that … ”
“He has a concussion, sir!” Johnny shouted louder, intercepting me before I could get a hold of Jamie. “He took a knock to the head during training this morning and hasn’t been himself since,” he added, addressing our teacher, while physically wrestling me towards the classroom door. “I better take him to the office to get checked out.”
“You do that, Kavanagh,” Mr. Gardener replied, looking unconvinced, but too lazy to argue about it.
“Will do,” Johnny called over his shoulder as he yanked the door open and pushed me into the empty hallway.
“Did you hear him back there?” I demanded in outrage. “Did you hear that motherfucker?”
“Yes, I heard him, but I need you to keep the head,” Johnny instructed calmly, keeping ahold of the back of my jumper. “Do you hear me, Gibs?” he continued to coax, steering me in the direction of the sixth-year locker area. “Just keep the head and don’t react.”
“Don’t react?” I gaped at him. “After what I heard those assholes say about Claire?” I shook my head in disgust. “Yeah, fuck that.”
Turning on my heels, I stalked back in the direction of the classroom we’d just exited. Well, I attempted to at least, but the death grip Johnny had on my school jumper thwarted my plans. “Calm down, Gibs.”
“Don’t be a hypocrite,” I snapped. “You would lose your ever-loving shit if you heard anyone say that about Shannon.”
“Yes, I would,” he agreed calmly, walking me down the corridor like a dog on a leash. “But if the shoe was on the other foot, I would hope that you would step in on my behalf before I got myself expelled.”
“Am I Sookie?” I snapped, breaking free from his hold, only to make a burst for the religion classroom. “You don’t need to walk me, Johnny!”
“Get your arse back here,” he ordered, spoiling my break for freedom by fisting my jumper once more. “Listen to me, will you? I’m as annoyed as you are, but use your head, Gibs. We don’t throw down in class, lad. That’s not how it’s done.”
“That’s how it’s done in my world,” I shot back, too pissed off to think clearly. “He’s not getting away with talking about her like that, Johnny. Over my dead body.”
“Agreed,” Johnny said calmly, pushing open the door of the sixth-year common room and maneuvering us both inside. “But we need to be smart about it. Fighting in class isn’t going to do us any favors, Gibs.”
“Who are we fighting?” a familiar voice asked, and we both turned to find Joey sprawled out on one of the couches with a coat draped over him.
“So that’s why you weren’t in religion class,” Johnny accused. “You were taking a bleeding nap.”
“Come and talk to me when you have a colicky newborn, feeding on demand at home,” Joey replied, standing up. “Back to my question.” He stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck from side to side. “Who are we fighting?”
“No one. We’re not fighting anyone,” Johnny was quick to rebuff. “Because I am in contract. You are on a warning,” he added, pointing at me before turning his attention to Joey. “And you are on probation.”
Ignoring Johnny’s words of warning, Joey looked to me and repeated, “Who are we fighting, Gussie?”
“This is so bleeding bad,” Johnny declared twenty minutes later, as he paced the student car park like a man waiting on death row. “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I’m going along with this.”
Meanwhile, I watched, both fascinated and engrossed, as Joey Lynch unlocked the door of Jamie Kelleher’s car.
Who knew a putty knife and clothes hanger from the art room could unlock a car without damage?
Lynchy, apparently.
Once the button clicked up, Joey opened the driver’s door, cigarette balancing between his lips, and reached inside. Another clicking noise sounded a moment later, and he called out, “Do you have the sugar, Gus?”
“I sure fucking do, Lynchy,” I replied, handing him the bag and spoon.
“Oh God,” Johnny groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. “I can’t watch.”
“Then don’t.” Without a hint of hesitation, Joey climbed back out, took the bag from me, and then walked around the side of the car. Opening the petrol cap of Kelleher’s car, he proceeded to dump the sugar inside, one spoon at a time until the bag was empty.
Afterwards, he neatly screwed the cap back on and relocked the car. “Let’s see this Kelleher prick take anyone to the cinema now.”
“My da’s going to kill me.” Biting down on his fist to stifle a whimper, Johnny shook his head and walked off in the direction of his car, looking like he close to passing out. All 6’5 of him. “I’m a bleeding criminal.”
“And I used to think Podge was highly strung,” Joey mused, quite literally leaning against the scene of the crime, finishing his cigarette. “But Kav takes the cake.”
“That was fucking genius.” I grinned. “I owe you, lad.”
“Nah.” Taking one final drag of his smoke, he tossed the butt away and pushed off the car. “Seems to me it was the least I could do.”
“Oh?” I fell into step beside him. “How’d you figure?”
“Aoife,” he explained, shoving his tools back into his schoolbag. “She told me what you did for her.”
“Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining, Gussie.” He stopped short before we reached the main building. “I know you paid off my drug debt.” Clear-eyed and sober, Joey stared right at me. “I owe you a lot more than this.”
“You don’t owe me anything, lad,” I replied, feeling weirdly emotional. Claire once referred to Joey Lynch as the comeback kid and I couldn’t think of a better definition. Grinning, I added, “Although, if you really want to thank me, you could always make me AJ’s godfather.”
His lips twitched in response. “Don’t push it.”
