Long Story Short (14 page)

I stared at her.

“Jeez, you've lost it, Kato,” I said. “You've really gone and lost it now. What are we going to tell your mother?”

She laughed.

“It just came into my head,” she said, “when I was telling you that they are not going to prosecute you. It's from
The Merchant of Venice
. Remember?”

How could I forget? I still had the copy belonging to Mr. O'Connell that Julie had brought for me from home.

“You're smiling,” she said. “So maybe you won't kill yourself today?”

This was a joke she had, that every time she made me laugh, I was one step further away from suicide. Some people call that black humor, but it suits me.

“Not today,” I said.

“Remember when you thought I was going to try to save you with Shakespeare?”

I smiled. “That was a stupid idea.”

“Yes,” she said. “But it wasn't an idea I ever had.”

“Say it again,” I said.

“Sam,” she added.

“Yeah, Sam. Say it again, Sam. I liked it.”

So she repeated it, about the quality of mercy. I didn't understand it all, but I liked the sound of it.

“So basically it means it's great stuff altogether, this mercy,” I said. “Double portions all round.”

“You've got it,” she said.

“Are you trying to tell me they are being merciful?” I asked then. “Like, they're being nice to me, not pressing charges?”

“No,” she said. “I'm not trying to tell you anything. I just remembered the quotation.”

“It blesseth…” I said.

“Him that gives and him that takes,” she finished. “Yeah, that's why it's twice blessed, see?”

“And I am him that takes?” I said. I was starting to feel the smallest bit uncomfortable about this.

“No. Not necessarily,” she said.

“I could be the one that
gives
?” I said, puzzled.

She shrugged.

“You're a smart one,” she said. “You should go to school. It'd do you a power of good.”

After she left, I went and got the book and opened it at random, to see if I could find the speech about mercy, but instead I noticed where it said “Dermot O'Connell, Second Year” on the first page, in faded ink. It must have been his copy from school. I didn't know his name was Dermot.

I found this line I liked, and I wrote it out on a piece of paper and left it propped on my table, so I could show it to Kate next time. We have to have something to talk about, and I don't always want it to be me.

She laughed when she saw it: “Love me, and leave me not.”

I was shocked that she laughed. I thought she would start banging on again about Julie and I would be able to say,
Yes, I understand now,
but instead she just gave this throaty gurgle and shook her head in amusement.

“What's so funny?” I said. “It's like a line from a song, isn't it? Like Bob Dylan or some kinda crap like that, isn't it?”

“Wash your mouth out,” she said. “Bob Dylan isn't crap. You're just too young to appreciate him.”

That wasn't what I'd meant, but I didn't argue about it. I just waved the quotation at her, and I said, “So why is it funny?”

“Well, put it like this, Shakespeare thought it was a terrible line.”

“He wrote it,” I said.

“Maybe, but as a kind of joke.”

“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