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“Well, would you look at that,” I whistled, snatching up the phone to get a better look at the chubby, blond-haired infant wrapped in a blue blanket and filling the screen of her phone. “I helped make him.”
“You drove them to the hospital to have the baby, Gibs. Don’t lose the run of yourself,” Johnny filled in, pressing a kiss to Shannon’s hand before settling it on his lap with his. “He’s a gorgeous little fella, isn’t he?”
“Drove the horror train, more like,” I muttered under my breath, still feeling slightly traumatized from the noises that had come out of Aoife’s mouth when she was in the throes of labor the other night. Yeah, the very night I had the misfortune of coming achingly close to seeing Joey’s spawn being calved.
“Shut the front door!” Claire squealed, snatching the phone out of my hands to get a better look. “Look at that itty-bitty baby Joey.”
“Joe said he has my nose,” Shannon gushed proudly, clasping her hands together. “He’s so beautiful, guys. And I know I haven’t met him yet, but I swear that I love him to death already.”
“Jesus.” I blew out a breath and repressed a shudder. “I still can’t believe Joey’s a daddy.”
“He’s always been one of those, lad,” Johnny said.
“True that, Kav.”
“Another Lynch boy.”
“He’s not a Lynch, he’s a Joey.”
“News flash, Joey’s a Lynch, Gibs.”
“Nah, he’s a Joey. Like Bono. He doesn’t need a last name. Iconic.”
“I think the term you’re searching for is infamous.”
“Aww.” Claire continued to croon and coo at the screen of the phone. “I want one.”
“You want one of those things?” I gaped at her. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Me too,” Shannon admitted with a wistful sigh. “I want two.”
“Two’s a good number,” Johnny agreed. “But three’s better.”
“Jesus Christ, it’s contagious!” Snatching the phone out of Claire’s hand, I tossed it back to Shannon. “Here, put that phone away before that baby’s picture causes an epidemic.”
11
I Predict a Riot
CLAIRE
Okay, so maybe I jumped the gun a little when I predicted this would be Shannon’s and my year best year to date. Or heck, maybe I jinxed it. Either way, sitting across the lunch table from my sobbing best friend was not how I anticipated spending our first day back at Tommen.
We’d been back at school less than half a day, and already one of our lunch table associates had fallen prey to Mr. Twomey’s dreaded suspension wrath.
Not only had Joey Lynch been suspended for pummeling Ronan McGarry, but Tadhg Lynch had taken a rap on the knuckles for his role in the altercation, too.
Apparently, Ronan was suicidal enough to call Aoife Molloy a slut to a hothead like Joey Lynch’s face. Like come on. What the hell did he think would happen when he called the newly appointed mother of a man’s child that kind of name?
Apparently, Mr. Twomey gave him a two-week suspension. I mean, two weeks was unheard of at Tommen. The worst I could remember since my being here was one week tops. The beating Ronan took was a severe one.
To top off all the Lynch sibling drama, Ronan had drippled blood all over my new school shoes, Katie had been sent home with period pains, and then Lizzie and Feely, of all people, had the weirdest argument at the beginning of break, which had resulted in Lizzie storming off.
Clearly Hugh was more in the loop than I was regarding what had gone down between our friends because he’d gone after Lizzie and had somehow managed to persuade her to return. She was back at the lunch table, sitting next to my brother in the chair Katie had vacated, and hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone.
I wondered if Lizzie and Patrick’s argument had anything to do with what Hugh said about getting Patrick to talk to Liz. Either way, all three of them were in a heated stare-down across from me.
Meanwhile, Shannon was so distraught over her brothers’ suspension—plural—that Johnny had spent the last ten minutes whispering words of what I assumed were comfort in her ear, in between peppering kisses to her face.
