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The more I read, the sicker I felt in my stomach…
Incident in P.E. resulting in a bloody nose.
Vomiting incident in the bathroom.
Incident in woodwork with a glue gun.
Issue after school with third-year girls.
Another vomiting incident in the bathroom.
Issue before school with fourth-year girls.
Refusal to take part in overnight school bonding retreat. Were they fucking kidding?
Many, many more vomiting incidents.
Referral to educational psychologist.
Older brother lodges fourth complaint about the bullying. Older brother should have found some older female friends and had them kick the shite out of these mean girls.
Graffiti on bathroom walls.
Assault in the schoolyard, older brother suspended. Older brother must have sorted it himself.
Isolation reported by several teachers.
Serious physical assault by three older students, Gardaí called. No shit, Sherlock.
Older brother suspended again for intervening.
Removal from school at the request of mother. About fucking time.
School records requested by the principal at Tommen College.
Horrified didn’t being to describe my feelings when I was finished reading.
Pissed off didn’t quite fit the bill, either.
Disgusted, disturbed, and wholly enraged seemed a more accurate assessment of my feelings.
Jesus, it was like reading a goddamn police report of a domestic violence victim.
No wonder Shannon’s mother flipped the fuck out on me today.
If I were in her position, I would have done a lot worse.
Christ, now I was even more pissed with myself for hurting her than I was earlier.
Who the hell did this?
Seriously, what kind of creatures were they breeding in that school?
“Well?” Gibsie’s voice broke through my thoughts when he climbed back into car, smelling like an ashtray. “Find out what you need?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, handing the folder back to him before cranking the engine. “I did.”
He looked at me expectantly. “And?”
