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Shane Holland.
“He’s one bad egg, girls,” Mack continued, unwrapping the paper covering his chicken fillet roll. “Skulking around the school carpark when he finished going here years ago.”
“Is he with him?”
Mack looked at me in confusion. “Who?”
“Joey?”
“Who?”
“Joey!”
“Ah, you mean Lynchy?” He chuckled to himself. “I was likewho’s Joey? I’m so used to calling him—
“Focus, Mack. Jesus!” I practically shouted, as I leaned across the table and tapped his forehead with my empty plastic bottle. “Did you see Joey out there with Shane Holland?”
“Yeah, Jesus,” Mack grumbled, rubbing his head. “He’s outside with him now.”
Shoving my chair back, I jerked to my feet, leaving my bag, lunch, and friends behind me, and stormed out of the canteen.
“Aoife, wait up, I’ll come with you.“
“No! Don’t follow me,” I warned Casey, as I stormed through the hallway and out the front entrance of the school.
I was going to blow a head gasket.
Joey had been doing so damn well.
No goddamn way was I allowing this piece of shit to throw him off kilter.
“Hey!” I screamed, when the familiar black Honda Civic came into my focus, parked up at the far end of the school carpark. “Hey!”
Barging through a group of stoners from the year above me, I whipped out my phone, which absolutely did not have a camera on it, and pretended to take a picture of Shane’s car.
“Get out of the car, asshole!”
My whatever-the-hell-he-was, who was sitting in the passenger seat of a car full of much older boys, turned to look out the windscreen, with a look of confusion etched on his face.
However, the moment his eyes landed on me, his confusion quickly morphed into recognition before settling on anger.
Oh, be angry, fucker, because I can be angrier.
“I said get out of the car, asshole,” I demanded, slamming my hands down on the bonnet, uncaring of how much attention I was drawing on them. “Now!”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Joey snarled, throwing the car door open and climbing out. “Jesus Christ, Molloy!” Rounding the bonnet, he quickly slid between me and the car. “What are youthinking?”
“What amIthinking?” I strangled out, chest heaving, as I quickly searched his eyes for the familiar signs that he was high. “What areyouthinking?”
Losing my cool, I shoved him out of the way, and kicked the number plate of Shane’s car.
“Hey!” Shane roared, rolling down his tinted window. “Get a handle on your doll, Lynchy, or I will.”
“I’d like to see you try, asshole,” I screamed back at the big bastard, and then I flung my phone at his windscreen for good measure. “I’m not afraid of you!”
“Molloy—“
“No!” Pushing Joey when he tried to wrestle me away, I strode back to the car and kicked it again before retrieving my phone. “He’s not interested in what you have to offer anymore. Do you hear me? He’s not fucking interested. So back off!”
