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“Yeah,” I squeezed out, one hand moving to rest on my stomach, only to think better of it and grip the desk instead. “I guess I am.”
“Then you have me,” she said, sliding her arm through mine as the lab started to fill up with other students. “And I’ve got your back. Always.”
“We’re supposed to be going to the cinema tonight,” I told her in a shaky tone, eyes trained on the front of the room. “He texted me about it earlier.”
“Then maybe you guys can have a conversation afterward,” she offered in a hopeful tone.
“He won’t be able to handle it, Case,” I whispered, teeth chattering from nerves. “He’ll go off the rails again.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Knees bopping anxiously, I blinked away another batch of tears. “It will wreck him. He’s been doing so well. Better than I could have imagined. And this? This will ruin him.”
“Either way, he has to be told,” she replied gently. “You know that, Aoife.”
“Yeah, I do.” I nodded weakly. “But my world is already collapsing around me. Can you blame me for wanting to delay that for him?”
“Well, don’t delay it too long,” she mumbled. “Because you’re starting to show.”
Those words were all it took for everything inside of my stomach to come rushing back up.
Bolting off my stool, I ran out of class, not stopping until I was on my knees in the girls’ bathroom, with my head in the bowl and my life in pieces around me.
33
I’m Really Scared
JOEY
“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” I asked Molloy on Friday night as we took our seats in the middle row at the cinema.
She shook her head.
“Thirsty?”
Another headshake.
She had been banging on about going to see Boogeyman for weeks now. I’d finally managed to get a night off work to take her, and she couldn’t look more miserable if she tried.
She wasn’t talking.
She wasn’t eating.
She wasn’t smiling.
The girl sitting next to me was not the same girl who climbed out of my bed last week, and I was really starting to worry.
“So, I heard a rumor this evening,” I decided to go with next, knowing that Molloy could never resist some juicy gossip. “According to Mack, that Johnny Kavanagh lad from Tommen kicked seven kinds of shit out of Ciara Maloney’s fella in Biddies this evening.”
When she didn’t reply, I continued to ramble on, hoping to stir some sort of reaction from her.
“Apparently, Ciara and Hannah were giving Shan shit as usual, and yer man Kavanagh absolutely lost it. Knocked over a table of drinks and everything. Gave that Murphy lad a right kicking,” I added, stuffing a handful of popcorn into my mouth. “I reckon there’s something going on there between Shannon and Kavanagh. She’d never admit it, of course, but I’m not thick. I mean, first he’s driving her home from school, then he’s taking her to the pub, and now he’s publicly defending her honor and settling scores with a bunch of bitches that have been hounding her for years? Sounds a little more than just friends, if you ask me.”
A half-hearted “Oh?” was all I got for my troubles.
At a complete fucking loss at what to say or do next, I drummed my fingers on the armrest and decided to concentrate on the screen in front of me. It wasn’t coming easy, though. Not when I could literally feel the anxiety wafting from my girlfriend.
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