“Well, it’s in his play,” I said. “Anyway, I don’t care what feckin’ Shakespeare thought about it. I like it.”
“Good for you,” she said. “You’re entitled.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
Later I said, “I’ve been thinking about this youth course thing.”
“Oh yes?” she said, looking interested. The social worker in her was popping up in her eyes.
“I don’t want to go on it,” I said.
“Oh!” She looked crestfallen, though I could see she was trying not to. “Ah, well.”
“No, because, see, why would I want to go to a place like that, when I have a perfectly good school already, with a Mr. O’Connell in it?”
And one or two other people.
“Who’s … Oh, the one who gave you the book?”
“Yeah. His own copy, from when he was at school.” I showed her the autograph on the front page.
“That was nice of him,” she agreed.
Bloody nice, I thought.
“Well, we could see if there’s a bus from here that would take you near your old school. Will I see if I can find out?”
I shrank back a bit. I’d only just been thinking about it. I didn’t like being rushed.
She looked at me. “I could leave it till next week, if you like,” she said.
“Yeah, that’d be better. Cool. Thanks.”
After she’d left, I sat for a while with the book on my knee, thinking about everything that had gone on and thinking mostly about Julie, and all the time “Love me, and leave me not” was gliding in and out of my mind, like a kind of music.
I hadn’t rung Annie. I’d promised her at the church, and I hadn’t done it. She’d sent me a few texts. Just cheerful nothings. I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t find my cheerful self.
I still couldn’t ring her, but I texted her the line. Love me, and leave me not. I added in the scene and line number from The Merchant (that’s what the cool people call it, the actors, Kate told me; she acts, wouldn’t you know it?) so she wouldn’t think … well, I knew she’d know what I meant. Annie is sound. I’ll see her soon.
And then I went and asked them for a postcard, and I wrote a note to Julie. I could have sent her a text, but they check all her texts, and I don’t like the idea of them reading it, even though there is nothing secret that I have to say to her. A postcard is open anyway, and I don’t mind if they read it.
This is what I wrote:
Dear Julie,
Hope you’re OK.
I’m going back to school next week.
See you on Tuesday as usual.
Love you to bits.
Jonathan
Then I added a P.S.:
We can play Happy Families if you like.
And all along the bottom I put a row of kisses, like tiny stitches.
To Matthew and Louisa
Text copyright © 2011 by Siobhán Parkinson
Published by Roaring Brook Press
Roaring Brook Press is a division of Holtzbrinck Publishing Holdings Limited Partnership
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
macteenbooks.com
All rights reserved
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Parkinson, Siobhán.
Long story short / Siobhan Parkinson. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Fourteen-year-old Jono and his eight-year-old sister Julie run away when, soon after their grandmother’s death, their alcoholic mother hits Julie, but when the police find them in Galway, Jono learns he is in big trouble.
ISBN: 978-1-59643-647-3
[1. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 2. Runaways—Fiction. 3. Family problems—Fiction. 4. Ireland—Fiction. 5. Ireland—Fiction.] 1. Title.
PZ7.P23935Lnn 2011
[Fic]—dc22
2010029023
First edition 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-7632-9
First Roaring Brook Press eBook Edition: June 2011
Long Story Short Page 11