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“Don’t act so surprised,” Podge accused. “He works with your father. Like you didn’t know what’s been going down.”
“I didn’t! Wait – Joey told you that?” I demanded, reaching out to grab ahold of his jumper. “He told you that his father is beating him?”
Pausing mid-step, Podge swung around and gave me a look that saidare you crazy? “No, of course he didn’ttellme,” he spat, tone indignant. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s a fair bit closed off. Joey doesn’t tell anyone what happens in that house. I’ve heard enough rumors, and seen him come into school enough times with black eyes, to know that he has it a lot harder than you or that self-righteous asshole you call your boyfriend.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” I snapped, flushing. “I was trying to defend him back there.”
“Yeah, sure you were,” he sneered before walking off.
“Iwas,” I argued, hurrying after him once more. “I don’t have the same opinion of Joey that Paul has. Idon’t.I have my own mind, Podge.”
“Well then maybe you should use it sometime,” he shot back, “and maybe you should speak up a little louder for the lad, especially considering he’s returned the favor a time or two for you.”
“What?” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Podge bit out, upping his pace in his obvious bid to get away from me. “It means nothing at all.”
“Where are you going with his school bag?” I called after him, pushing my damp hair out of my eyes, as the rain continued to hammer down on us.
“Taking it to him!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Wherever the hell he might be.”
“Let me do it,” I heard myself say, as I raced after him in the rain. “I can find him, Podge,” I repeated, slipping Joey’s bag off his shoulder and onto mine. “Let me do it.”
He watched me with mistrustful eyes. “Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“Why, though?”
“Because I just do, okay!”
“Fine.” He eyed me warily. “You won’t tell Joe what I said to you about his uh, his dad, will you? Because he’ll lose his—"
“I won’t,” I promised, cutting him off. Not when I had every intention of having him tell me himself.
* * *
He wasn’tat the garage with Dad, he wasn’t at the GAA grounds, and he wasn’t at any of the other local haunts I knew he frequented.
That only left one place.
His house.
The estate I lived on didn’t have the best reputation, but it was Disneyland compared to the one he lived on.
With some houses on his street boarded up, and even more covered in graffiti, it was safe to say that Elk’s Terrace had a definitive air of misery about it.
There was a burnt-out car at the far end of the dilapidated green near his house, close to where three ponies were roaming freely, grazing on the overgrown grass and weeds.
Jesus.
Inhaling a steadying breath, I rounded his graffiti-clad garden wall, walked up to the front door, and knocked loudly.
Several beats passed before the sound of key jiggling in the lock filled my ears.
A few seconds later, the door opened inwards, but only a crack. “Yes?”
“Hi,” I said, smiling brightly at the young girl peeking through the crack in the door.Shannon, I quickly noted. “Is Joey here? I need a word with him.”
