Nobody's Fool

"Put your finger in ‘ere," Cole says. 

Here, being a box with a finger-sized hole. Cole offers it like a prize in his palm. It looks like a two-dollar Rubik's Cube knockoff.

"Naaah,” I say, wishing I could swat him away like the greasy fly he is. Him and his two bus-stop jokers. Hair all sorts of unfashionable. Pants longer than their report cards. Kidding.

"Come on Carly, you’re so uptight, just put ya finger ’ere, it’s just a joke is all."

Sure. "That what Johnny said?"

Marvin chuckles, his face twisted like his sense of humour.

 Last time they said, ‘put him here.’ Him being Johnny’s nose; here being Marvin’s fists. Johnny got medical bills… and they are no joke in this economy. 

And what about the blood on his uniform? As mum says, "Irr-e-pare-able damage," in her nasal voice.

 It’s not… "irreparable," ya know, just requires elbow grease. Nan taught me. But we don’t tell Mum that. You say "yes Ma'am," and leave her to wine o'clock in peace.

 Johnny doesn’t have a Nan. Poor guy.

"Johnny fell,” Barry deadpans. Breath like garlic, the bad kind. 

Yeah, on Marvin’s fist. 

"Listen, I’d love to chat boys, ya know I would, but I gotta get home, homework, then—"

"Just put ya finger in the damn box, Carls, gosh you're being a baby." Barry snaps.

I dunno why he’s so bloody persistent, but no thanks. 

Am I curious? Yeah. But, no way in hell am I putting my finger in the box. 

One word: SAW.

I’m young, and as mum says, "impressionable." 

Still, I’m nobody’s fool.

"Bye boys,” I call.

They groan collectively.

Cue a shrill giggle. Billy-Anne. Eyelashes thicker than curtain bangs. Foundation two shades wrong.

"Hey Billy,” Cole coos, “put ya finger in this ’ere box."

Yeah.

Poor Billy.