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“Are you wearing your anklet?”
“Always.”
“Are you doing to dance with me?”
“Never.”
I laughed down the line. “I better get back to the lads.”
“If you must,” she replied, sighing dramatically. “Meanwhile, I’ll be sure to protect myself from your sister’s penchant for hair removal.”
“You do that,” I chuckled. “See you tonight.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too, Hugh.”
Hanging up the call, I returned to the lads, only to find Gibs and Kav fighting like an old married couple.
“They caged me in a cell for two weeks, Johnny!” he declared, hands flailing wildly. “Like a fucking lab rat. Soexcusemefor not giving two shits about the groundskeeper’s precious petunias.”
“Would you give it a bleeding rest?” Kav shot back as walked down the footpath toward the school’s exit. “You’re like a broken record, Gibs.”
“And we weren’t caged in a cell,” Feely chimed in, adding his two cents. “We were sitting our junior cert, lad.”
“No,youweren’t caged in a cell to do your exams,” Gibs corrected with a bite to his tone. “Meanwhile,Iwas in a special little room all by my lonesome, with a man, who I can only describe as the reincarnation of Smithers, to write down my answers, and that freaky fucking guidance counselor Miss Moore chaperoning.” His gray eyes widened right along with his outrage. “And she’spregnant, Patrick. You know how stressed pregnant bellies make me get.”
“I do, Gibs, and I’m sorry you were forced into proximity with one,” Feely replied, giving our friend a supportive clap on the back.
“But the whole separate-room gig was for your benefit,” I filled in.
“Exactly,” Kav agreed. “The scribe was there to help with your dyslexia, lad.”
“True, and Smithers the scribedidwrite all the answers,” Gibs agreed in a thoughtful tone before grinning deviously. “Hm. Looks like I know who’s getting the blame when the results come back in September and my mam has a conniption fit over me failing.”
“Don’t be hasty, Gibs,” Feely offered. “You might surprise yourself.”
“Lad,” Gibs snorted. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen the look on Smithers’s face when I told him what to write.” A hearty chuckle escaped him. “The poor bastard was begging me with his eyes tostoptalking.”
The rest of us laughed at that before I asked, “All right, lads, whose house are we getting ready at?”
“Yours,” Gibs and Feely said in union.
Meanwhile, Johnny’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Getting ready for what?”
“Tonight’s disco in town.”
“And before you even start the bullshitI can’t, I have training tomorrowprotests, just know that youarecoming,” Gibsie interjected. “It’s happening, Cap, get with the program.”
“Because Ican’t,” Kav urged. “Idohave training tomorrow.”
“Then clear your schedule,” Gibs replied, draping an arm over his shoulder. “Because tonight, you’re out with the lads.”
DIBS, HE’S MINE
Lizzie
JUNE 19, 2003
