Heaving out a shuddering breath, I sagged against my bedroom wall and took a minute to regather my composure. “Fuck.”
“You care about her,” Podge stated, watching me carefully. “More than anything or anyone you have ever allowed yourself to care about. I’ve seen it – the shift in you, and so has Alec. The change. The hopefulness she brings out in you. Hell, the whole fucking world can see how good that girl is for you, man. But you’re so determined to self-destruct that you’re not looking at what you’re doing to her.” He shook his head before adding, “If you don’t care about yourself, and it’s pretty clear that you don’t, then you need to think about what your actions are doing to her. Because guess what, fucker? Aoife Molloy loves you. Do you hear me, you lucky son of a bitch? Hands down the best-looking girl in our school – possibly in the whole town – with the best, top-quality banter loves you.”
“Sound more surprised, why don’t ya?”
“I’m not surprised,” he shot back, without hesitation. “I’ve seen plenty of the dolls you’ve pulled over the years. I’m not insecure enough to deny that you’re a good-looking son of a bitch.” He shrugged. “You’re both beautiful. It makes sense for her to be with you.”
“You know, I’m not sure I like where this conversation is heading,” I warned. “Because if this is the part where you tell me that you’re attracted to my girlfriend, I’m going to be really fucking pissed, and if you tell me that you’re attracted to me, then I’m going to be really fucking traumatized.”
“Of course, I’m attracted to your girl,” Podge shot back. “As is every other lad in our school.”
“Yeah.” I nodded to myself. “I’m pissed.”
“Good looks aside, you’re a fucking trainwreck to deal with,” he argued. “And I should know. I’ve spent the last fourteen years watching you derail, but I’ve stuck around for the same reason she has. Because she sees the same thing I do; a good fucking person underneath all of the bullshit. But you’re blurring those lines, Joe. You crossed a line today and you need to make it right,” he said, holding a finger up. “I love you like a brother, I always have, but one of these days you’re going to slip so far off the tracks that none of us will be able to reach you.”
His words cut me deep, and I found myself reacting on instinct. “I don’t need anyone to reach me.” Rattled, I hissed, “I don’t need you, or her, or anyone else to help me with shit.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Keep on behaving like this and no one will want to.”
I narrowed my eyes right back. “Suits me just fine.”
“Go on, Joe; keep pushing the people that actually love you away,” he argued, tone heated and eyes laced with disappointment. “Keep driving us out of your life and you’re going to end up with only Shane Holland and his leeches sucking the life out of you.”
“Are you done lecturing me?” Stalking over to my bedroom door, I swung it open and glared at him. “Because you can leave now.”
“Lad, you’re still off your rocker if you think my country ass is walking through your thug-infested terrace at two o clock in the morning.” Flopping down on my bed, Podge readjusted my pillow behind his head and made himself comfortable. “Nah, you’re stuck with me for the night, so you might as well get yourself reacquainted with the dog-house on the floor,” he offered, yawning. “Because I have a feeling that’s where you’ll be spending most of your time for the foreseeable.”
“I should go see her—"
“No, you should lie your ass down before you get yourself in any more trouble,” my friend commanded, throwing a pillow at me. “Leave the poor girl to get a night’s sleep. You can go over there first thing in the morning.”
Relenting, I dropped down on the floor and covered my face with my arm. “Fuck.”
“Do you want to know something?”
“If it’s anything to do with how much of a shitty person I am, then no, lad,” I muttered. “I’m already fully aware.”
“Charlie Monaghan tried it on with Aoife at school today.”
“The fuck?” I lifted my arm off my face to gape up at him. “And you know this how?”
“Heard it from Rambo who heard it from Becca.”
“What did he say?”
“What am I, a mind reader? I told you that I heard it from Rambo who heard it from Rebecca. I’m not tele-fucking-pathic, lad.”
“That little shit-bag.”
“Stuck it to her, apparently,” Podge chuckled. “So, it sounds to me like you need to get your head out of your hole and up your game if you want to hold onto that girl.”
“Sounds to me like I need to break Charlie Monaghan’s fucking nose.”
“Yeah,” my best friend chuckled. “That, too.”
LAY IT ON ME
AOIFE
With my school shirt hanging open, and only my bra and knickers covering my dignity, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom on Wednesday morning, and studied every inch of my skin, paying extra close attention to the parts of my body where there were obvious changes.
My breasts were enormous, and that was saying something because I had never been lacking in that department.
Seriously, they were so full and heavy, that it felt like I was carrying around bowling balls in my bra.
My nipples had decided to turn about ten shades darker in color, and I had very noticeable, very blue, veins appearing on both breasts.
Gross.
And that slight swell in my lower abdomen, the one I had managed to play off as bloating up until now, wasn’t so slight anymore. The area of my stomach beneath my belly button had distended into a small but firm pooch.
The sight of it alone caused my pulse to skyrocket.
I called it a pooch because I refused to use the B-word that rhymed with pump.
Yeah, I was nowhere near ready for the B-word.
I wasn’t going to be able to hide my situation for too much longer. The changes to my body had already been drastic, and I predicted that I had another month left tops before the whole world knew.
We were getting our Easter holidays from school on Friday. We would have two weeks off and a huge part of me was worried that I would somehow blow up in that space of time and end up returning to school looking like a beached whale.
It was a terrifying concept.
Turning from side to side, I studied my appearance, gently poking and prodding at the foreign entity that had hitched a ride inside of my womb.
Ugh.
Womb was definitely another word I hated, right along with placenta, milk ducts, labor, membrane sweeps, and, worst of all, crowning.
Struggling with the concept of a baby growing inside of my body, let alone burrowing its big, bald head and Joey-Lynch-sized shoulders out of my vagina, I shuddered violently, doing a little heebie-jeebies dance on the spot, while I battled down a surge of nausea.
Empty your mind.
Deep breaths.
Blank it out.
You’re still beautiful.
Nothing has stretched your vagina.
Your body is still free from stretch marks.
It’s all good.