“My bad.” With a deep frown etched on his face, he slid his hand in further until he was gripping my ass cheek. “Okay, now clench.”
“Wh-what?”
“Squeeze your ass, Molloy. You squeeze and I’ll pull. On three, okay? One, two, three—“
“Ugh!” I squealed, clenching my ass cheeks so tight they went into spasm. Thankfully, it did the trick, and I was propelled out of the sink and into his arms.
“Wah-hey!” Several of our classmates cheered, erupting in a chorus of clapping.
“I’m f-free.” I released a sigh of relief. “Oh th-thank Jesus.”
“Yeah, I thought that might work –” Losing his balance on the floor that had become a glorified ice rink, Joey collapsed in a heap on the ground, taking me with him.
There were only three options available to me in this moment; laugh, cry, or keep fighting.
I chose the first one, and surprisingly, so did my partner in crime.
“Fuck,” he choked out a laugh from beneath me. “That was…”
“Stupid.” Lifting up on elbows, I grinned down at him. “I won.”
“No, I won.”
“Who came out on top?”
“You, Molloy.” Shaking his head, he stared up at my face and released an amused sigh. “Always you.”
“They did what?” A booming male voice echoed through the air, and I bit back a groan, when our principal came pounding into the classroom, looking like he was fit to be tied.
“And that’s how you know you fucked up,” Alec laughed.
“Why am I not surprised to see the two of you up to no good – again,” our principal seethed, face turning purple in color, as he glowered down at us. “In my office. Now!”
“Aw crap,” I groaned, dropping my head on his chest. “It was nice knowing ya, Joe.”
“Yeah.” Joey sighed heavily and patted my head. “Right back atcha, Molloy.”
WE ARE NOTHING!
FEBRUARY 1ST 2002
JOEY
Dressed in matching plain grey tracksuits – the ones they kept in the office for students that shit themselves – and looking like we’d been released from Cork prison on compassionate leave, Molloy and I sat in the front row of detention, without a single other student to take the shine off us.
With her hands folded across her chest, and her long, wet hair pulled back in a tangled braid, Molloy glared at the chalkboard in front of us, clearly having resumed whatever grudge she had on me.
She’d been given a week’s worth of lunch time detentions, while I had been told by Nyhan to show up every lunch for the foreseeable future. In other words, the rest of third year.
Stinking of chili and cheap washing up liquid, I leaned in close and took a whiff of her, unsure which one of us smelled worse.
“It’s you,” Molloy bit out, reading my mind.
“No, it’s definitely you.”
I felt a small amount of regret for the parts of her blonde hair that were sporting the color snot green, but not enough to apologize.
She started it.
Flipped the fuck out on me for no goddamn reason.
And while I was more amused than annoyed now, I wasn’t about to cave in.
It was her turn to bend.
Drumming my fingers on the desk, I looked around the room, all the while racking my brain for a possible trigger for our fight.
I didn’t do anything different.
She was happy, smiling, enjoying herself.
We were having a laugh together, and then she just flipped.
The defiant side of my personality demanded that I pay no heed to her bullshit.
She’s not your problem.
That feeding into her drama would only lead to more.
The only problem with ignoring her was that I didn’t want to.
After spending an innate amount of time trying to push her away, having her actually go did not feel good.
Not good at all.
“How are your hips, Aoife?” Mrs. Adams announced, slowly rising from her chair, at the front of the room. “I can’t imagine that was comfortable for you.”
“Sore.”
I immediately felt like a tool. “You’re hurt?”
Ignoring me, Molloy focused on our teacher when she said, “I’ll survive.”
“Back in my day, we called those child-bearing hips,” Mrs. Adams stated, causing me to choke out a laugh and Molloy to glower.
“Are you calling me fat, Miss?”
“Dear God, no,” our teacher hurried to soothe. “I wasn’t saying anything of the sort.“
“Retract the claws, Molloy,” I tossed out, feeling sorry for the old lady. “She was paying you a compliment.”
“How?” Molloy deadpanned. “By implying that I have wide hips to go with my even wider ass?”
Yeah, and you look so fucking sexy for it.
“Exactly,” Mrs. Adams said, offering me a grateful smile. “Do you think the two of you can behave yourselves for five minutes, while I pop to the bathroom?”
“Yeah, Miss,” I replied, waving a hand around aimlessly. “Whatever.”
She gave me a worried look. “Joseph.”
“I mean it.” I held my hands up. “I’ll be good.”
“Good boy,” she crooned before pottering out of the classroom, leaving us alone.
“Teacher’s pet,” Molloy muttered, still glaring at the board.
“Do you want to tell me what I did?” I asked, twisting in my seat to face her. “I clearly did something to piss you off.”
“No.” Sighing in resignation, she dropped her head in her hands and groaned. “It’s fine. I’m just… It’s fine. I need to get a grip.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
“You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“I already think you’re crazy, Molloy.”
“Well, crazier than normal then.”
“Try me.”
“No.”
“Molloy.” Reaching across the desk, I grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face me. “Try me.”
Her big green eyes locked on mine, and I fucking hated the lonesome look in them. “Joe.”
“Tell me.”
Chewing on her lip, she glanced down for a long moment before blowing out a breath and whispering, “You said she had nice legs.”
I waited a beat to hear the rest of it, but when it didn’t come, I found myself staring at her in confusion. “Huh?”
“You said she has nice legs,” she repeated, still looking down at her lap. “You told her that she has nice legs.”
“Who?”
“Danielle.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, Joe, you did.”
“When?” I asked, beyond fucking confused.
“In class.”
Oh shit, I did. “And that’s bad because…”
“Forget it.” Shrugging my hands off her shoulders, she turned back to staring at the chalkboard. “It doesn’t matter. I’m over it.”
“You’re over it?” I shook my head, feeling at a loss.
She blew out a pained breath. “Forget it, Joe.”
“Can you just stop with this wounded girl act and be straight with me,” I growled, frustrated with this coy version of my friend. “Come on. This isn’t you. You don’t talk in riddles, Molloy. Tell me straight.”