Danielle beamed at him. “Hey, Joey.”
“Dan,” Joey acknowledged, dropping his bag on our desk before sliding past me to take his seat on the inside.
Sinking down on the chair next to mine, he rested his elbow on the back of my chair and flicked my ponytail to get my attention. “Molloy.”
“Joe,” I acknowledged, keeping my gaze trained on my homework journal.
“I’ve been looking for you, Joe,” Danielle said. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“About?”
“Are you free after school?”
“I’m never free after school.”
Oh, burn.
I bit back a snicker.
“Oh, that’s okay.” Her tone was forcefully bright. “Maybe lunch tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” Joey replied before flicking my ponytail again. “Got any more of those chocolates you keep in your pencil case?”
“Don’t know why you keep asking when you already know the answer.”
He moved for my pencil case, and I quickly slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch my Rolos.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, pulling his hand back. “You can’t spare one?”
“I could,” I replied, refocusing on my spider web doodle. “But not for you.”
“Not for me?” Snatching up my pencil, he asked. “Why not for me?”
“Because you don’t even like chocolate,” I grumbled, snatching my pencil right back from his hands. “You have the munchies, and I refuse to feed or enable your bad behavior.”
“I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later, Joe,” Danielle mumbled before retreating from our desk.”
“Yeah, sure.” He poked my shoulder. “My bad behavior?” Grinning like a dope, something that usually happened when he came back from lunch with the stoners, he leaned in close and nudged my shoulder with his. “Come on, Molloy, don’t hold out on a friend.”
“I have a wham bar in my bag. It’s yours if you want it but stay away from my pencil case stash.”
“A wham bar?” Joey gave me a disgusted look. “No fucking thanks. I’d rather starve.”
“Then go right ahead, my friend.”
“Jesus, who pissed in your cornflakes?”
You did, asshole. “I’m sorry, Joe, did I push a button? I was just looking for a way to mute you.”
His brows shot up and he choked out a laugh. “Shit, that was a good one.”
“I know.” A reluctant smile spread across my face. “I was saving it up all day.”
“For me?”
“Can you name another person I would rather mute?”
Another laugh. “Jesus, you’re on fire.”
“And you’re on my last nerve.”
“What’s the matter, Molloy? Are you on the rag or something?”
“Oh my god.” I snapped my gaze to his. “You did not just say that to me.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Don’t we share those details?”
Deciding on making him suffer, I narrowed my eyes and said, “Why yes, Joe. As a matter of fact, I am on my period.” Smiling sweetly up at him, I added, “In fact, I’m having a real hard time getting my tampon out – what with all the blood and all. Care to help a friend out, you know, since that’s your area of expertise and all?”
“I could give it a shot.”
I glared at his stupid head for a long beat before relenting with a laugh. “You’re sick.”
“You said it, not me,” he laughed, still grinning like a dope.
“I was trying to psych you out, asshole.”
“You can’t psych me out, Molloy. I’m immune to your antics,” he shot back, eyes alight with humor. “But you’re definitely psyching someone out.”
I turned my head in the direction Joey was looking and locked eyes on a furious looking Paul.
Great.
Just great.
“Looks like Paul the prick is about to have a coronary over there.”
“Apologies for being late,” Ms. Falvey announced, hurrying into class with a stack of books in her arms. “I was on a call to a parent.”
Sure, she was.
More like she couldn’t be bothered to turn up.
“Can everybody take out their textbooks and turn to page 112. Today, we’re going to be revising the 1916 Easter Rising. It will come up in the junior cert paper in June and you will learn The Proclamation of the Irish Republic off by heart.”
Pulling my book out, I set it down on the table between us, knowing full well that Joey wouldn’t have his copy with him as per usual.
He rarely arrived at school with the required booklist, and spent most of his time bumming hand-me-down copies off teachers, or sharing with whoever was sitting next to him.
I never minded sharing with him, though, because as reckless as he was with his body, he had clear, neat handwriting, and took down notes far more useful and to the point than anything I had ever stolen out of my brother’s schoolbag.
The fact that he could remain so efficient in class while his brain was clearly in an altered state made me even more envious.
“Joe,” I whispered, after spending twenty minutes revising and taking down notes in companionable silence.
“Hm?”
“If I asked you a question, would you tell me the truth?”
“Depends.”
“Something important to me.”
“Like I said, Molloy, it depends,” he whispered, not looking up from his copybook, as he scribbled something down, and then flipped the page over.
“On what?”
“On whether or not you needed to know the truth.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “Forget it.”
Joey sighed heavily and turned to look at me. “Ask your question.”
“Will you give me the truth?”
“Just ask your question, Molloy.”
“Have you heard any rumors?”
“Rumors.”
“About Paul.” Releasing a shaky breath, I added, “Messing around with some girl from Tommen.”
Joey tensed for a moment before flicking his gaze to where Paul was sitting. A beat passed before he turned his attention back to me. “No.”
My heart sank in my chest.
He was withholding.
I knew he was.
“I never thought you’d lie to my face, Joe,” I muttered, feeling thoroughly disappointed in him. “It hurts worse than I thought.”
“I didn’t lie,” he was quick to reply, tone hard. “You asked me if I heard anything about Ricey messing around with some girl from Tommen, and I haven’t heard anything about some girl from Tommen.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means what it means, Molloy.”
I stared at him for a long moment before finally getting his drift. “You’re being semantical.”
He turned his attention back to the open book in front of us. “Do you want me to write down the notes for you?”
“I want you to be real with me,” I whisper-hissed. “Joe, if you know something and aren’t telling me, then I’m going to be really hurt.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, he rubbed the back of his neck and reached for his pencil. “It’s not my business.”