Please, Michelle.
No. I have no interest in David Donnelly’s spazzmo band. (eating Quavers)
They look nice.
I can’t go on my own.
Are they nice?
Bring Bobby Sands.
Sure, how could I go? I’m so weak I can barely walk.
What about Orla?
Orla’s…
I love my wee fingers.
Orla’s mental. Come on, Michelle. I’m begging you. It’s my big chance with David. I’d do it for you.
Fine! But we both know you’re gonna just sit in the corner like a frigid fuck.
I’m not frigid.
You’ve never even kissed a boy before. You practice on your pillow sometimes, but you don’t think that’s the same.
The reading of the diary was bad enough. I could do without the quoting it from memory.
Michelle, would you mind showing me where the toilet is?
You are really starting to do my head in, do you know that?
Will the following pupils please report to Sister Michael’s office immediately? Erin Quinn, Orla McCool, Clare Devlin, Michelle Mallon, and the wee English fella. Thank you.
I wonder what that could be about.
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