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“You would say that,” Kev replied, repressing a shudder.
I snorted. “Spare me the cynicism, Kev. I’m eating nachos, not sucking his dick.”
“Again, fine by me,” Joey interjected with a smirk.
“You two are sick,” Kev muttered, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. “Sick, I tell you.”
“Put it there.” I raised my bare foot in the air, and Joey scowled at me for a long moment before relenting and indulging me with a high five to the sole of my foot.
“So, you’ll never credit what happened while I was at the pitch with the kids yesterday.”
“Ooh, gossip.” I grinned wickedly. “Tell me.”
“Shannon went out with friends for the day.”
“For real?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Apparently, she went off yesterday afternoon and didn’t come back until late. Spent the day with Claire and Lizzie.”
“I’m guessing this rarely happens?”
“Try never,” he replied, snatching up the remote and flicking through the channels. “The old man went batshit when she came home last night. Apparently, she’d only arrived back when I walked in the door from work.”
“Which explains this,” I whispered sadly, fingers grazing the fresh bruising on his neck.
“Don’t worry.” He was quick to dismiss it. “I handled it. Shannon’s grand.”
“I wasn’t worried.” About her, at least.
“She has friends, Molloy,” he said then, sounding as close to content as ever I’d heard him. “An actual social life. She’s not hiding behind her bedroom door, listening to music and burying her nose in books. She’s going out.”
“So, Tommen is suiting her.” I smiled. “All of that worrying was for nothing.”
“We’ll see,” he replied, gaze flicking briefly to me before returning to the match on TV that he had so smoothly switched on. “It’s still early days.”
“Or could it be possible that your baby sister is growing claws?”
“Christ, I hope so.”
“Yeah.” Me, too. “You have to remember that she’s almost sixteen now, Joe,” I reminded him. “With hormones, and feelings, and a mind of her own.” I ruffled his hair and smiled. “It was bound to happen at some stage.”
21
Rolling in the Hay
JOEY
It was almost midnight on a Friday night, and instead of doing something productive, like sleeping in an actual bed, I found myself slumped on top of a stack of bales, with my girlfriend nestled between my legs and a pink, fluffy blanket slung over us.
The majority of our classmates from Sixth Year 3 were crammed into Podge’s hay shed, having been smuggled onto his parents’ farm on the back of a tractor trailer. To be fair, we had no business being here, but when the idea arose in class this morning, a haphazard plan was thrown together and here we were.
The rain was pelting down on the tin roof, the drink was flying, the tunes were pumping from Neasa Murphy’s battery-operated boom box, and the craic was ninety. Most of us here had endured one another’s company five days a week for almost six years now, and there was a definite sense of camaraderie between us.
We’d grown up together, suffered through all of the teenage bullshit, fights, bitching, and hardships. Hell, a good portion of those in attendance knew each other on an intimate level, but being here now almost felt like we had come full circle.
Knowing that in a couple of months, we would all go our separate ways should have made me feel some semblance of sadness and anxiety, but it didn’t. The rest of my class could shoot off in whatever direction they wanted after the leaving cert, just as long as I got to keep the girl in my arms.
“I bet you’ve never spent a Friday night rolling in the hay, Devil Tits?”
