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“No.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“You look like you’ve been crying?” I whispered, as concern rose inside of me at a rapid pace.

His nose was red, his eyes were bloodshot and watering.

“I don’t cry.” Joey released a shaky breath and retrieved a wad of tissue from his pocket. “I’m just…” He completely spaced out for several long beats before adding, “coming down with something.”

“Oh my god, Joe, you’re bleeding,” I strangled out, when the white tissue he used to dab his nose came back a crimson red. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“I am?” He stared down at the blood-stained tissue in an almost trancelike motion. Blood continued to trickle down his face, but he made no move to intervene. “Ah shit.”

“Joey,” I snapped, grabbing the tissue from his hand and pressing it to his nose. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” With one hand cupping the back of his head, I used the other to hold the tissue to his face. “Bullshit. What did he give you?”

“Nothing,” he whispered, hands falling limply to his sides, as he watched me watch him. “It’s all good, Molloy.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I warned. “You’re completely strung out.”

“I’m not lying.” My heart plummeted out of my ass and on to the floor, where he then kicked it by saying, “I swear.”

“You’re such aliar.”

Furious, I quickly pulled him to his feet, and reeled off some spiel to the teacher before ushering him out of the classroom, ignoring the stares and whispers as we went.

“Is Joey alright there, Aoife?” our teacher, Mr. Brolly, called out the classroom door after us.

“Yeah, yeah, sir, he’s grand. It’s just a nosebleed. Will you ask Casey to pack up our bags for us,” I called back, keeping him welded to my side, as I walked him out of school and over to where I had parked my car.

“Don’t hate me, Molloy,” Joey mumbled, falling into the passenger seat the minute I let him go to open the car door. “You’re all I have to wake up for in the morning.”

BACK TO THE DOG HOUSE

SEPTEMBER 1ST 2004

JOEY

I was backin the doghouse.

Strewn out on her bedroom floor, bollocks-naked, with a fluffy white pillow under my head, and a pink blanket thrown over me, was how I found myself when I came to.

“So he lives,” a familiar voice drawled sarcastically.

Shivering violently, I slowly pulled myself up to find a furious pair of green eyes glaring at me.

Sitting with her back to her door, she glowered at me when she asked, “What did he give you?”

I opened my mouth to lie, but she got there first.

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