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GIBSIE
“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 and all things before marriage.”
“Not for much longer.”
“Gibs,” Johnny whispered 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 to get to the fun part?”
“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 ahold 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 toward 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 out 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.”
