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His bottom lip quivered.

“I asked you a question, Declan.”

“N…no.”

“It’s partially because you are a spoiled little gobshite; do you know what a gobshite is?”

“No.”

I sighed; “You should ask your uncle when you see him next…”

“What’s the other part Ms. Callahan?” I looked over at Marco, who spoke as he stood surrounded by friends all grinning at Declan. “You said no one is stopping him partially because he’s…because he’s a…goa…gobshite?”

“Gobshite! You have to say it with feeling Marco, come on, try again, all of you,”

Excited they said it loudly, proudly, and yes, with feeling and they weren’t the only ones. A few others joined in… I noticed many of them…most them were Italian. The Irish looked uncomfortable and, as if to play on their pride, Declan started to cry.

“He’s just a kid—” his aunt said.

“He’s what? Ten?” I asked her.

“Twelve.” Someone coughed but there were so many people around, I couldn’t tell who it was.

“TWELVE? Now I’m upset.” I pulled Declan over to Marco and stood them facing each other, “If you’re old enough to know how to use slurs, you’re old enough to repent for them. So repeat after me and then you’re free to go.”

“Okay.”

“I, Declan the gobshite,”

He didn’t say it.

“Declan…”

“I, Declan the gobshite,” he repeated making Marco and his friends break out in laughter.

“Am very sorry for insulting not just you, Marco,”

“Am…very…sorry for insulting…not just you, Marco,” he hiccupped.

“But every Italian person in the world.”

“…I didn’t…”

“Declan, my hand is getting tired; I can ask one of my friends to told your head if you’d like.”

“But every Italian person in the world,” he said quickly.

“I swear—”

“I swear—”

“To be less of a gobshite,”

He took a deep breath; “To…be…less of a gobshite.”

“And never use that word or any other word like it again in my life.”

Once he was done repeating my words, I flung him over to his aunty but not before letting her have it, “I’ll get answers to my questions, Aunty Claire. And when I do, I’ll personally visit you and your husband to tell you what I know. In the meantime, why don’t you spend less time worrying about other people’s children and fix the one rioting next to you because I swear on my mother’s grave, if he ever insults my blood again…he’ll see his. GET OUT!”

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