“Oh my god,” I whispered, covering my mouth with my hand.
“Don’t act so surprised,” Podge accused. “He works with your father. Like you didn’t know what’s been going down.”
“I didn’t! Wait – Joey told you that?” I demanded, reaching out to grab ahold of his jumper. “He told you that his father is beating him?”
Pausing mid-step, Podge swung around and gave me a look that said are you crazy? “No, of course he didn’t tell me,” he spat, tone indignant. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s a fair bit closed off. Joey doesn’t tell anyone what happens in that house. I’ve heard enough rumors, and seen him come into school enough times with black eyes, to know that he has it a lot harder than you or that self-righteous asshole you call your boyfriend.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” I snapped, flushing. “I was trying to defend him back there.”
“Yeah, sure you were,” he sneered before walking off.
“I was,” I argued, hurrying after him once more. “I don’t have the same opinion of Joey that Paul has. I don’t. I have my own mind, Podge.”
“Well then maybe you should use it sometime,” he shot back, “and maybe you should speak up a little louder for the lad, especially considering he’s returned the favor a time or two for you.”
“What?” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Podge bit out, upping his pace in his obvious bid to get away from me. “It means nothing at all.”
“Where are you going with his school bag?” I called after him, pushing my damp hair out of my eyes, as the rain continued to hammer down on us.
“Taking it to him!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Wherever the hell he might be.”
“Let me do it,” I heard myself say, as I raced after him in the rain. “I can find him, Podge,” I repeated, slipping Joey’s bag off his shoulder and onto mine. “Let me do it.”
He watched me with mistrustful eyes. “Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“Why, though?”
“Because I just do, okay!”
“Fine.” He eyed me warily. “You won’t tell Joe what I said to you about his uh, his dad, will you? Because he’ll lose his—"
“I won’t,” I promised, cutting him off. Not when I had every intention of having him tell me himself.
SPECIAL_IMAGE-images/svgimg0003.svg-REPLACE_ME
He wasn’t at the garage with Dad, he wasn’t at the GAA grounds, and he wasn’t at any of the other local haunts I knew he frequented.
That only left one place.
His house.
The estate I lived on didn’t have the best reputation, but it was Disneyland compared to the one he lived on.
With some houses on his street boarded up, and even more covered in graffiti, it was safe to say that Elk’s Terrace had a definitive air of misery about it.
There was a burnt-out car at the far end of the dilapidated green near his house, close to where three ponies were roaming freely, grazing on the overgrown grass and weeds.
Jesus.
Inhaling a steadying breath, I rounded his graffiti-clad garden wall, walked up to the front door, and knocked loudly.
Several beats passed before the sound of key jiggling in the lock filled my ears.
A few seconds later, the door opened inwards, but only a crack. “Yes?”
“Hi,” I said, smiling brightly at the young girl peeking through the crack in the door. Shannon, I quickly noted. “Is Joey here? I need a word with him.”
She glanced behind her and then quickly shook her head. “He hasn’t come home yet.” Red-eyed and sniffling, her skittish gaze flicked to the school bag I was holding, and she slowly opened the door further. “Is that his bag?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “He left it at school. I’m just returning it.”
The sound of raised voices drifted from somewhere behind her and she quickly reached for the bag. “Thank you for bringing it home for him. I can give it to him.“
“That’s okay,” I replied, taking a step backwards, hand firmly clamped around the strap as I hoisted it onto my shoulder. “I can wait.”
Something was off.
I could feel it in the air the moment she opened the door to me.
Podge’s earlier words flashed through my mind, and I winced sympathetically, before quickly steeling my resolve.
“Like I said, I need a word with your brother,” I added, offering her what I hoped was a warm smile. “I’m Aoife, by the way. Aoife Molloy. Joey works with my dad.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, keeping her head down as she clutched the door like it was the only thing holding her up. “I know who you are. You were at my Granda Murphy’s funeral.”
“Yeah, I was. And you’re Shannon, right?” I knew that was exactly who she was. “Joey’s little sister?” I had seen her around school many times since she joined BCS, but she kept to herself, never making eye-contact with anyone long enough to be noticed.
Looking at her now, it was hard to peg her for older than eleven. She was only a couple of years younger than me, but she had the body of a small child.
“Yes.” Nodding, she kept her chin tucked down as she whispered, “I’m Shannon.”
“I heard what happened at school today,” I added softly, cringing when my eyes took in the sight of her hacked-up, shoulder-length bob. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“It’s okay,” she croaked out. Her hands were shaking. In fact, she looked about two seconds away from passing out on the floor.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, titling my head to the side in my bid to get her to meet my eye.
“Yes.”
“You don’t look okay.” Concern rose to life inside of me. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”
More shouting filled the air, and I watched as she physically flinched. “You should go.” Her voice was small and pleading. “Now. Please.”
The door was yanked inwards then and a small blond boy grinned up at me. “Joey’s friend,” he said in delight. “The pretty girl.”
“Hi, Ollie,” I replied, smiling down at him. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been doing?”
“I’m okay,” he replied, tone bright, seemingly oblivious to the very loud argument occurring behind the closed door at the far end of their hallway. “Are you here to play with Joey?” he asked them, all innocence and wide smiles.
“Ollie,” Shannon warned in a shaky tone. “Go back inside.”
“Yeah, I am,” I hurried to say. “Is he here?”
“Uh-huh,” Ollie replied, nodding dutifully, and causing Shannon to exhale a shaky sigh. “But he’s getting in trouble right now. You wanna come in and wait for him?”
It was the look of pure terror in his sister’s eyes that had me answering, “sure,” as I took a cautious step inside.
“Joe’s in big trouble again,” Ollie explained gesturing with his small hand to follow him into the sitting room. “It’s a bad one, this time.”
Bolting past me, Shannon hurried into the sitting room and scooped up a small bundle of what I first thought was a white blanket. Until the white blanket began to squawk and a small blond head popped out from behind said blanket.
“You have yourself a real cute baby on your hands,” I said, eyes locked on the wriggling infant in her arms, the one I remembered from the funeral.
“No, no, no,” she strangled out, as she rocked him in her scrawny little arms. “He’s not my baby.”
“That’s Sean,” Ollie explained, climbing onto the worn-looking couch and then patting the space next to him. “He’s the newest one of us.”
“He’s our brother,” Shannon clarified, as she tried to soothe the grizzly infant, who was refusing the bottle she was offering him.
“How old is he?” I asked, sinking down on the thread worn cushion.
“Who, Sean?” Bouncing him in her arms, she tucked a blond curl behind his tiny ear and said, “He just turned two.”
“Really?” I found it incredibly hard to believe that the infant in her arms was as old as two. He was dinky in size and reminded me more of twelve-month-old.