“It’s lunchtime, Shan. What are ya doing home from school?” “Like you can talk.” Digging me in the side with her skinny elbow, she mimicked, “It’s lunchtime, Joey. What are you doing home?” “I’m in the doghouse.” “With Aoife?” “Yep.” “Is that weed?” “Nope.” “Are you lying?” Inhaling another deep drag of my smoke, I held it there for a long moment before exhaling slowly. “Yep.” “Stoner.” “Slacker.”
