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DEAL OR NO DEAL

Hugh

NOVEMBER 2, 1998

“C OME ON , H UGHIE ,” F EELY LEANED OVER OUR SHARED DESK AND WHISPERED ON Monday morning. “You can’t honestly still be mad about the Lizzie thing.”

“Oh, you better believe I am,” I hissed back, roughly digging him in the side with my elbow. “Now fuck off back to your own side of the desk.”

“Fine,” he spat back, returning my elbow with an equally painful one of his own. “Go right ahead and sulk about it.” Shaking his head, he retreated to his side of the desk but continued to scowl at me. “But you’re pissed about nothing because I asked her months ago and she—”

“That makes it even worse ,” I interrupted, attention flicking between our teacher with his back to us and my traitorous friend. “Now, stop talking to me.”

“No.”

“Fine. Stop looking at me.”

“No.”

I narrowed my eyes in warning. “Feely—”

“She said no, Hugh,” he continued to say in a hushed whisper. “Lizzie doesn’t like me, lad. Not like that, so I don’t know why you’re so upset.”

“I’m upset because you should have told me,” I seethed. “Because you went behind my back.”

“Why should I?” he demanded right back. “She’s not your girlfriend.” Narrowing his eyes, he tossed out, “Because you’re too chicken to ask her.”

“Who’s a chicken?” Gibsie asked, turning around from the desk in front of us to join the fray.

“Hughie,” Feely replied. “He’s pissed off because I had the balls to ask Lizzie to be my girlfriend and he doesn’t.”

“No,” I corrected hotly. “I’m pissed off with you because you did it behind my back.”

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission, Hugh.”

“It’s basic manners, Patrick.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Yeah,” I snapped. “Four months after the event.”

Feely shrugged. “Better late than never.”

“Better never than never, more like.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Gibs tutted and shook his head in disapproval. “You shouldn’t have done that, Pa.”

“Why the hell not?” Feely demanded, looking outraged.

“Because Hugo Boss-man loves our little viper,” he replied solemnly, gray eyes wide and unblinking. “You know that.”

“Yeah, well, you might want to tell Hugo Boss-man to stop being such a chicken,” Feely grumbled. “Besides, I asked Liz out because I like her, not because I wanted to hurt him.”

“He’s not a chicken,” Gibs defended. “He’s a gentleman—at least, that’s what my mam says.”

“ Thank you , Gibs,” I replied, feeling vindicated.

“You would take his side.” Feely rolled his eyes. “Especially since you’re obsessed with his sister.”

“That I am,” Gibsie replied with a smile, only to frown a second later. “Hold up.” Narrowing his eyes, he gave Feely a wary look. “You didn’t ask Claire out when you were scampering around looking for a girlfriend, did you?”

“No, Gibs,” Feely chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. You go right ahead and keep on not dreaming about it,” Gibsie replied in a warning tone. “Because I’m not as in control of my actions as he is.” He pointed to me while keeping his eyes trained on Feely. “And I’ll kill ya dead, Patrick Desmond Feely.” Gibs made a throat slashing sign with his finger. “Don’t let this angel face fool you,” he continued, pointing to himself. “There’s a killer lurking beneath. One that’ll kill ya stone dead if you try to take my Claire-Bear, ya hear?”

“I hear you, Gibs,” Feely replied, trying not to snicker, while I made no such effort. Slapping a hand over my mouth, I tried to stifle my laughter. “I promise you faithfully that I will never try to take your Claire-Bear,” he continued, tone laced with amusement.

“Good,” Gibsie replied, looking mollified. “Because I would miss you an awful lot if I had to kill you.” Smiling again, Gibsie waved a finger back and forth between us. “Now, kiss and make up.”

Repressing a groan, Feely turned to look at me. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Lizzie.” He blew out another pained breath before adding, “I got my answer, though, and I won’t ask her again. Not if she means that much to you.”

“She does,” I replied, still annoyed but willing to put it behind me if he was. “And I’m not a chicken,” I added, feeling the need to defend myself. “I’m just…I’m working up to it.”

“Fair enough. You keep on working up to it, and I’ll keep out of it.” Smiling ruefully, Feely extended his hand to me. “Does that sound like a fair deal?”

“Yeah, lad,” I replied, shaking his hand. “It’s a deal.”