“With who?” I asked, tone laced with confusion, as I scratched the back of my head.
“Marcus Shorten.”
“Marcus who?”
“He’s from Kilcock community college,” she bit out. “Ring any bells?’
I stared blankly.
“You broke his finger, Joey,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “With your hurley. On purpose.”
“When?”
“Last Friday,” she hissed. “His mother phoned the school this morning. As you can imagine, she was very upset about the matter. She wants to take it to the board.”
“Oh yeah,” I mused, vaguely recalling the incident on the pitch last Friday when our schools met in a league game. “His mother actually phoned the school?”
“Yes, she did. She was very upset.”
“That wasn’t a fight,” I scoffed.
What a sap; telling his mammy on me.
The teacher’s eyes narrowed. “And what would you call it?”
Fucker nearly took my knuckles off with the steel band on the bas of his hurley. I was only returning the favor. “A minor disagreement.”
“Well, that minor disagreement has earned you your first suspension of the school year,” she snapped. “Congratulations.” Clapping her hands together mockingly, she asked, “Is there anything you’d like to say for yourself?”
“Yeah. We won the game last Friday,” I replied with a shrug. “And I was man of the match.”
SUSPENSIONS AND STILETTOS
OCTOBER 18TH 2001
AOIFE
“Fifty-euro, Dad,” I tried to plead my case on Thursday evening, after school. “It’s for a good cause.”
“Since when is a new pair of shoes a good cause?”
I shrugged. “Would you prefer if I lied and told you that I would put the money in the poor box?”
“Aoife.”
“Please, Dad,” I begged. “I’ll never ask you for anything else ever again.”
“Until you need a skirt to go with the shoes? Like every other time you’ve asked me for money.”
“Okay, fair point,” I conceded, holding a hand up. “But you don’t understand how badly I need these shoes, Dad. They’re perfect for the costume I’m planning on wearing for Halloween.”
“What’s your mother saying about it?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know Mam.”
Dad frowned. “If your mother doesn’t think—“
“Come on, Dad,” I coaxed, and then pulled out my trump card. “Kev gets any computer game he asks for and never has to jump through hoops, either. It’s almost as if you guys don’t want me.”
A laugh erupted from beneath the car I was leaning against. I glared down at the culprit, who was sprawled out on a creeper, with only the lower half of his body available to kick.
“Aoife,” Dad sighed. “Of course we want you.”
“I’m only asking for a pair of shoes, Dad,” I wailed, tone forcefully soft and frail. “Please?”
“Jesus,” Dad muttered, wiping his hands on an oil rag. “Fine. I’ll get my wallet. It’s in the office.”
“You are the best. I swear that you will live with me forever and will never see the inside of a nursing home,” I crooned, throwing my arms around him with glee. “But yes, get your wallet,” I added, steering him in the direction of his office. “Because they’re the last pair on the shelves and I will die if Danielle Long beats me to the counter with them.”
Waiting until my father had disappeared inside his office, I turned my attention back to Joey.
With one leg on either side of his body, I reached down, fisted the front of his overalls and yanked hard, causing him to roll out from under the car, spanner in hand.
“Do you mind?” he drawled, looking up at me from his perch, with his baseball cap slung on backwards, and oil smeared on his cheek. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
“Do you mind?” I shot back, hands on my hips, as I stood over him and glared. “You could have blown that for me with your snickering.”
“You’re a manipulative little witch, aren’t ya?” He laughed again. “Playing your old man like that?”
“Only when I have to,” I huffed, unwilling to feel bad about it. “You didn’t see the shoes.”
“Shoes,” he snorted, shaking his head. “And you wonder why we’re not compatible.”
“Oh, get you, mister I have no problem throwing my money away on weed,” I tossed back. “I guarantee if you saw me wearing those shoes, you’d understand.”
“If they look as good on you as that yellow thong you’re wearing, then I’m going to have to agree,” he replied, gesturing to the perfect view up my skirt that I had unintentionally given him.
“Close your eyes.”
“Close your legs.”
“No.” Heat flamed inside of me. “I’m not embarrassed.”
“Neither am I.”
“You’re looking up my skirt.”
“You’re flashing your pussy in my face.”
“Oh my god,” I choked out. “You did not just say that.”
Chuckling softly, he moved to roll back under the car.
“Wait.“ Stopping him from disappearing under the car by pressing my foot to his stomach, I wheeled him back out, unwilling to let him win this particular round of banter. “So, you like the color yellow?”
“It recently became my favorite.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s so, Molloy.”
“My favorite color is yellow, too.”
“It’s a good color on you.”
“I look even better when I take it off.” Feeling mischievous, I purred, “You’re so sure of us being incompatible, but I wonder if that might change if I sat on your lap? Hm? Do you think we’d find common ground there, Joe?”
“Why don’t you take a seat, and we’ll find out.”
“Wh-what?” Thrown off kilter by his flirtatious attack, I frowned at him. “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?”
“You’re flirting with me.”
“You’re flirting with me.”
“So?” I huffed. “I always flirt with you.”
He grinned. “Well, maybe I’ve decided to change tactics.”
“By flirting?”
“Well.” He shrugged. “Being an asshole doesn’t seem to be working in my favor, does it?”
“But you’re so good at being an asshole.”
“Come closer and I’ll show you how good I can be in other ways.”
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out,” I choked out, springing away from him. “Stop this right now and give me back my asshole.”
Laughing, Joey wheeled himself back under the car. “You lost that round, Molloy.”
“I didn’t lose,” I huffed. “You changed the rules.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he called out from under the car. “Go and buy your shoes, princess.”
MY COSTUME IS BETTER THAN HIS
OCTOBER 31ST 2001