“Pull up a chair,” I instructed, as I strode into the kitchen ahead of him. “I’ll grab the bowls.”
Looking wary and mistrustful, my classmate shuffled towards the kitchen table and slowly pulled out a chair. “I mean it, Molloy. This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I drawled, humored by his pathetic attempt to shield himself from my irresistible charm. “Whatever you say, Joey Lynch.”
Setting to work, I grabbed bowls, spoons, milk from the fridge, and a box of cereal from the cupboard before setting them down on the table in front of him. “Dig in.”
He didn’t move an inch.
“Tea?” I offered then.
Joey looked at me like I had grown an extra head. “Tea?”
“Tea,” I confirmed, fighting back at smile at his discomfort. “It’s something us regular folk drink from time to time.”
“I know what tea is,” he muttered, shaking his head. “And no, I’m, uh, I’m not thirsty.”
Realizing that he had no intention of touching anything on the table until I joined him, even though he hadn’t stopped eyeing the cereal box since I placed it in front of him, I set the kettle down and moved for the table, taking the seat opposite his.
“Seriously, Joe,” I encouraged, pouring two bowls of chocolatey goodness, and then filling both bowls to the top with milk. “Tuck in.”
With a deep frown set on his face, he steered the overflowing bowl towards him, and reached for a spoon. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied around a spoonful of cereal, feeling a swell of something strange in the pit of my stomach, as I watched him wolf down his bowl of cereal like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Mam’s out with a few of the girls tonight, and I don’t cook, so it’s the best I can come up with.”
“You don’t cook?”
“No, do you?”
Joey shrugged. “A bit.”
My brows shot up. “What can you cook?”
Another shrug. “Depends.”
“Depends?” I pressed, as I reached across the table and refilled his empty bowl. “On what?”
“Thanks,” he replied, dutifully waiting for me to remove the box before his wolfing resumed. “It depends on what’s in the cupboard.”
“Well, I know you’re good at home economics,” I decided to add, having sat in a classroom with him for the past few months. “The dishes you prepare are always the teacher’s favorite.”
“Only because it’s edible,” he snorted, keeping his head bowed as he ate. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“With your mam?” I asked, thoroughly intrigued by this boy, as I rested my elbow on the table and watched him. “Did she do a lot of cooking with you growing up?”
“Something like that,” he replied, reaching for the cereal box. “Do, ah, do you mind if I…”
“Go for it.”
“So, where’s your brother?”
“Knowing Kev, he’s probably inhaling the books in his room.”
“He’s a fair bit of a brainbox, isn’t he?”
“Just a tad,” I reluctantly conceded, grimacing when I thought about my twin and his superior academic brilliance. “He’s my mother’s golden boy.”
“Hm.” Joey nodded in understanding. “I know that feeling.”
“What?” I teased. “You’re telling me that you’re not the pet at home?”
He arched a brow. “More like the pest.”
I laughed. “I don’t believe that for a second, mister hotshot hurler.”
He smirked. “You’d be surprised, Molloy.”
“So, how many siblings do you have?”
“Four,” he muttered before quickly correcting himself and saying, “three.”
“Four, three?” I laughed. “Which is it?”
“I had four, I have three,” he replied in a flat tone.
“Oh my god,” I croaked out, feeling a pang of sympathy hit me. “Did one of your siblings pass away?”
“He’s still breathing,” Joey deadpanned. “But he’s dead to me.”
Well crap…
“Okay,” I replied, watching him warily. “Tell me about the others.”
Joey shrugged. “Two brothers, one sister.”
“How old?”
“Ten, six, and almost four.”
“You’re the eldest?”
“I am now.”
Okay…
“What’s it like having younger siblings?” I heard myself ask. “It’s only me and Kev here.”
“It’s exhausting.”
“I can imagine.”
He looked up at me through hooded lashes. “You have no idea.”
“Which one’s your favorite?”
He gave me a hard look. “You don’t pick favorites, Molloy.”
“Bullshit,” I laughed. “Everyone has a favorite. That doesn’t mean that you love any of them more or less than the other. It only means that you’re more compatible with one and prefer their company.”
He thought about it for a long moment before mumbling, “I suppose I’m closest to Shannon.”
“Your sister?”
He nodded.
“Is she the one who’s ten?”
Another nod. “She’ll be eleven next month.”
“She’s the next one in line after you, right?”
Another nod.
“So, the dead brother must be the oldest?”
He glared at me. “Don’t push it.”
“Oh, don’t get all cranky with me.”
“Stop asking so many questions and I won’t.”
“Fine.” I smiled sweetly back at him, knowing that a person caught more flies with honey, and said, “You have nice eyes.”
“Nice eyes.”
“Uh-huh.” Reaching for the cereal box, I refilled his bowl and then added some more to mine. “You said stop asking questions, so I’m paying you a compliment instead.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Why, though?”
“Because it’s nice to be nice, Joey.”
“You are a really weird fucking girl,” he grumbled, looking thrown off kilter, before begrudgingly adding, “With nice legs.”
I grinned back at him. “Thank you.”
He eyed me mistrustingly. “You’re welcome.”
“What about the rest of your family?”
“What about them?”
“Who are you closest to?”
“Myself.”
“Oh come on.” I rolled my eyes. “You can’t say yourself.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“Well, do you have a secret rich aunt, or some cool cousin you love hanging out with at family functions?”
“No.”
“Come on, Joe.” I smiled. “Humor me. There has to be someone.”
He stared at me for a long time before releasing a breath. “I have a great-grandfather.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded warily.
“What’s his name?”