NOTHING COMPARES
CHAPTER FOUR !

            THE SHRILL, OUT OF TUNE voice of Jenny Joyce assaulted the ears of the pupils of Our Lady Immaculate, who were forced to watch the performance her awful singing ruined. Everyone else in the choir sounded good. Jenny was shit though she was absolutely oblivious to how bad she actually was.

            She was really bad.

            As the song they chose to perform was finally reaching its undeniably dull climactic ending, Jenny suddenly stepped forward, determined to squeeze out every single bit of joy from the song. "You can depend." She squealed quite proudly, her foot stomping to provide an intensity that no one other than Jenny and maybe Aisling enjoyed.

A scattered applause filled the room. Sister Michael jumped to her feet right away, the woman grateful the performance had finished when it did. "Uh, wonderful, girls. Lovely stuff." She dismissively said to the choir as she took her place at the podium.

She cleared her throat before continuing to speak. "Before I dismiss you for the weekend, a few announcements. On Monday morning, several of our year thirteens will face their GCSE maths resit."

            "Now I know how daunting resit examinations can be, so if anyone is feeling anxious or worried, or even if you just want a chat, please, please, do not come crying to me." The woman quickly burst the bubble of any of the year thirteens hoping to get some words of encouragement.

            Michelle's eyes rolled into the back of her head. She exaggeratedly groaned while harshly whispering, "Come on, come on, come to fuck!"

            Sister Michael retrieved a piece of paper from the podium. While reading along, she voiced what lay written on the page. "Notice from Mr. Macauley. This year's destination for the Euro Trotters trip will be, dramatic pause—" her lips halted their movement, her voice died. She slowly turned back to look at Mr. Macauley. "Did you actually want me to do the dramatic pause?"

            When the man nodded his head, her eyes squinted over at him. "Interesting. Paris, it's going to be Paris. If you need any more information, there is a stall in the foyer. Sadly, I am unable to come on this one as I despise the French." The woman declared matter of factly. She so openly discussed her dislike for French people. Then she began blessing herself. "In the name of The Father, The Son and the Holy Spirit."

            After a couple more minutes in the assembly hall, they were finally let out for the weekend, all of them practically grinning from ear to ear, looking like proper fools, as they made their way towards the foyer.

            As the group of girls and James headed through a set of doors, Clare couldn't contain her excitement. She immediately began listing off all the places she couldn't wait to see. "There's so much I want to do. The Champs-Élysées, the Arc De Triomphe, the Louvre—"

            She was cut off by a smirking Michelle. "A French fella. That's what I want to do. Nation of rides. My fanny's going funny just thinking about it." She giddily announced. There was an almost spring to her step once she finished speaking.

             Erin's nose turned up in disgust. Her voice dripped with disdain as she asked, "Could you not use that word, Michelle?"

            "What, fanny?" Michelle inquired sarcastically. She knew fine rightly what word it was that Erin had a problem with. She just enjoyed watching the blonde fight back the urge to flip out.

            Clare groaned. "Why do you always have to be so coarse?"

            As the girls moaned about Michelle's choice of words, Sinéad found herself glancing over every few seconds to see her sister repeating the same few actions. Getting her hair stuck to the lolly she eating, removing the hair then placing it back into her mouth as if it didn't happen. Then she'd get distracted by the conversation and the same thing would happen over again.

            Michelle just shrugged off their comments. She didn't care if what she said pissed them off, after all—"Ach, what's the big deal? We all have one."

            "I don't." James pointed out to his cousin. He was a boy, after all, regardless of whether his only friends were girls.

             Michelle sent him a disinterested look. "You are one."

Erin paid them little mind as she fantasised about what her life would become once she experienced the wonders and influences that was the city of Paris, France. She grinned proudly as she stuttered forward, quite smugly saying, "Of course, Beckett lived in Paris, and if anybody's influenced my writing, it's—"

"What, Brenda Beckett from 12A?" Michelle asked the blonde, cutting her off and putting her comparisons of herself to Samuel Beckett to a screeching halt.

Erin's eyes rolled. She let out an exaggeration sigh at her friend. Of course, Michelle wouldn't know. She wasn't as cultured as Erin. She didn't have an appreciation for the literary world. "No. Not Brenda Beckett, 'Beckett' Beckett."

Sinéad let out an unattractive snort of laughter. "She's going on about Samuel Beckett." She explained as they came to a stop in the middle of the hallway. She had heard Erin rant far too many times at home about 'Beckett' and his influences. She loved her cousin but by God, was it exhausting. "Thon Irish writer that she's convinced herself she's one and the same with."

            The group began to move again as Erin scoffed at her cousin while her other cousin said, "If we go to Paris, I'd like to meet Nicole."

            Confusion overtook James' features. "Who's Nicole?"

Orla's words had the Quinn girl grumbling to herself. "For God's sake. How many times? It's just an ad. She's not a real person. Neither is Papa."

Sinéad slipped her arm into Orla's, locking them together as they continued walking. She grinned up at the taller girl. "We could look her up in the Yellow Pages. The girl who plays her is real." She finished saying as she turned to look pointedly at Erin.

"Be good conversation practise as well, you know, for the orals." James uttered with an excited smile.

A smug, little smirk at her own thoughts appeared upon Michelle's face. She stared up at her cousin while goading, "Which will be the only oral that you—"

"Yeah, okay, Michelle." James cut her off with a heavy sigh, his eyes falling closed with a scrunch. He didn't need to hear her insult him yet again.

"You didn't let me finish."

"Well, I sensed where you were going."

There was a brief pause, a short moment of silence before Michelle learned forward, her mouth right by Clare's ear and she speedily spoke the word she'd been dying to say. "Blowjobs."

Erin suddenly stopped. "Oh, God. Don't tell me Charlene Kavanagh is going." She forcefully uttered as she stared off at the girl by the Paris stall. The blonde spun on her heel, her words already rattling past her lips. "She is dying about herself. 'Oh, I'm so good-looking. Oh, I'm so popular.' If there ever was a more shallow, self-absorbed, genuinely unpleasant human being—"

"Hi, Erin." Charlene called out. The sound of her voice announced her arrival to the blonde who dropped the facade of hatred for Charlene and adopted her true face.

Erin stared up at the Kavanagh girl, wide eyed and overwhelmed. "Good. Grand. Not too bad. Can't complain." She droned on before stopping herself. A frown formed on her lips. "Is the answer I'd have given had you'd asked how I was."

Charlene looked tightly weirded out. "Right. Are you signing up for Paris? I can't convince that lot to come." She explained with an exhaustive glance back at her own set of friends.

The next thing everyone knew, she was shooting Erin a sugary sweet smile. "Looks like I'm gonna need someone to hang out with."

"It would be an honour." Erin insisted, the girl taking quite a large step forward until she was practically touching noses with the Kavanagh girl.

Both Sinéad and Michelle shared looks of embarrassment as Erin so obviously showed how desperate she was for Charlene to look her. She was making a fool of herself for Charlene of all people?

After getting the answer she was looking for, Charlene took a big step back, sending Erin her continued ear to ear smile. "Okay. Well, I'll see you later, then." She said, bidding the girl a farewell before heading back towards her friends.

"You will, Charlene. Indeed you will." Erin boisterously yelled after the departing girl. Pride flowed through her veins as she spun back to face her friends. "Did you hear that? The Charlene Kavanagh wants to hang out with little old me!"

            Clare didn't hesitate in pointing out Erin's hypocrisy. "You know what I admire most about you, Erin? Your unshakable principles." She snapped while bulldozing past her fellow blonde and beelining for the Paris stall.

The rest followed closely behind. As they approached, they were unfortunately greeted by a pompous, French speaking Jenny. "Bonjour. Tout le monde. Comment allez-vous?"

Michelle wore a deadpanned expression. She stared totally unamused and uninterested at the Joyce girl as she uttered her words that were rife with a boredom. "Wise up Jenny."

"Where do we sign?" Erin excitedly asked, her eyes desperately scanning the table for what she was looking for.

The first thing the Mallon girl noticed as she glanced down at the information sheet was the price. Her eyes blew wide open in total disbelief. "Hold on. Stall the fucking ball. 375 quid? Are you for real?" She snapped at Jenny.

"What? £375 each?" Erin balked. Then she thought, maybe just maybe, they could work this out. With a suggestive tone, she questioned, "Isn't there some sort of group discount?"

This had Jenny's nose turning up. "It's not Club 18 to 30."

Michelle scoffed. "More's the pity."

Even Clare had to acknowledge the severity of the price. "It is a bit steep, Jenny."

"Just dip into your trust fund. I do it all the time." Jenny proudly admitted with a smile and a small laugh.

The group all looked at one another in confusion. What the hell was a trust fund and why was this the first they were hearing about it? Erin turned back to face Jenny. "Our what?"

Jenny sighed at them. She pitied them for not having known about this all along. With a sweet smile, she began to divulge what a trust fund was for. "It's like an account your parents set up for you to help pay for things like university, first car, educational trips."

"I did not know about this." Erin breathed out. She couldn't believe she'd had money stashed away by her parents this entire time. Going to Paris would be a piece of cake now. She glanced up at Michelle. "Did you know about this?"

"No, did I fuck."

With a new sense of purpose and a belief that she and her friends had been worried about nothing, the blonde smiled. "Trust fund, you say? Interesting."

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            ONCE THEY HAD RETURNED home, the three girls were quick to change out of their uniforms and thrown them in the wash. Once changed, Erin was swift in following her mother around the house, practically hanging off of her while inquiring about her trust fund she had been told existed by Jenny Joyce.

            "Dip into your trust fund? Of course, no bother at all." Mary sarcastically agreed to her daughter's ridiculous request. She gestured for the house phone as she set down her washing basket. "Pass us in the phone, I just need to ring the bank."

            Erin rushed for the phone. "7-6-5-4-3-2-1. That's the account number and the password." Like a true Irish mother, Mary kept the charade up so she could then ruin it. "What was it again? Oh aye, catch yourself on."

             As Erin struggled to deal with her mammy's words, Mary had already moved on. "Da, for God's sake, will you turn that down?" She called out towards the living room where her father sat, reclined in his chair, one granddaughter on his knee and the other on the sofa beside him.

            "I have turned it down. It's at zero." Granda Joe exaggerated with a gesture towards the tv with the remote. He glanced over at Sinéad with a shake of the head. "I don't know how he does it." He muttered about the man they watched rant and rave.

            Sinéad nodded in agreement before tuning out the telly and focusing on her cousin that hadn't quite grasped the reality of her Ma's words. "Are you telling me I don't have a trust fund?" Erin incredulously asked the woman.

            "There you go. You're not as slow as you look." Her mammy sarcastically replied before returning to folding clothes.

            Orla glanced away from the paper her uncle Gerry had been scrawling down their chippy order to stare curiously up at her aunt. "Do I have a trust fund, Mary?"

            Mary let out a sigh of exhaustion. "Listen, girls, there are no trust funds. There are no funds, period." She admitted to the girls, crushing their dreams of getting to Paris.

            Like a brick hitting her, Erin had realised that she was shit out of luck on the money front. "For God's sake!" She loudly exclaimed as she threw herself into one of the chairs, the wooden legs scraping against the floor.

            Sinéad chose now to get up from the sofa, grab her cup of tea that had been sitting on the coffee table and left the living room. As she headed for the table, she adopted a voice filled with dejection. She sounded so very sad as she said, "It did seem too good to be true." While pulling out a chair and taking a seat.

            Gerry looked over at his sulking daughter for a brief moment before carrying on with the order. He began listing the items to make sure no mistakes had been made. "Okay, that's one portion of red fish, one pair portion of white fish, two bags of chips—"

            "No, no, no. Two bags won't be enough." Joe cut him off. The man rose from his chair, turned off the tv and carried his little baby Anna into the kitchen.

            Gerry looked confused. "Two's plenty, Joe."

             Joe paid him no mind. He ignored him as he hadn't even spoken. "Four. Four should cover it."

            Not wanting to argue, Gerry chose instead to offer up a compromise with his father-in-law. "Three then. We'll compromise." He uttered as he began to cross out the word 'two' and replace it with 'three'.

            This want good enough for Joe. He glared down at the man, like he did every other day and threatened him. ""I'll compromise you through that window."

            "That's enough, Da." Mary warned her father.

            "The tight bastard's trying to starve us all, Mary."

            Gerry saw he was backed into a corner. He could had continued to argue, plead his case, but he knew it would have been no use. Joe would never relent so it was Gerry's job to. "Okay. Four bags of chips, then." He groaned before replacing the newly written 'three' with a 'four'.

            Orla had her order ready to go. With easy item she said, her body leaned closer and closer to the page. "And I want twelve chicken nuggets, a small battered hot dog, plenty of onions, plenty of—"

            The McCool girl continued to list though her voice got lost in the volume of Erin's. "Get a move on, daddy. At that chippy, well it's every man for himself on a Friday night.

Gerry shot his daughter a look. "I am trying to concentrate here, Erin." He snapped in frustration. He didn't need anymore stress.

Sinéad grabbed hold of the handle of her cup. While lifting it to her lips, she nicely asked, "Can I get a cheeseburger and a small tub of gravy please, Gerry?"

"Sure you can, love." The man responded with a smile and a nod before writing down what she had asked for on the piece of paper.

Just then, Sarah arrived, walking in through the front door and heading straight off the kitchen. "Alright, mammy?" Orla asked as the woman appeared.

Sinéad shot her mammy a toothy grin as she passed by her. The woman's hand lovingly grazed the top of her daughter's head as she passed before she came to a stop behind Orla. "Alright, love. Did you ask about the trust fund?" She curiously asked.

Orla glanced Sinéad's way though she just received a defeated shrug in return. This caused Orla to stare up at her Ma sadly. "Uh, we don't have one."

"I take it that means I don't have one." Sarah uttered pointedly at her sister. Like the girls, Sarah had been under the impression this trust fund had been something of a done deal.

Clearly not.

"For the love of God." Mary huffed and puffed as she lifted up the washing basket, now filled with folded clothes and walked away, the woman not bothering to dignify her question with an answer.

"Will four bags be enough?" Sarah suddenly asked while she peered over her brother-in-law's shoulder down at the order.

Gerry shot her an exhaustion filled look. "More than enough."

"I'd say we need five, to be safe. Do you not think, Da?" The McCool woman continued to advocate for the five bags, regardless of what Gerry said.

Joe nodded. "Stick down five."

Gerry's eyes were sure to get stuck in the back of his head with the amount of eye rolling the family caused him to do. "Five bags of chips, then." He groaned. Once again, he had to replace 'four' to 'five'.

As the Quinn man grumbled to himself, Joe offered up his order. "I'll have a chicken fillet burger." He stated. As the pen started to slide against the page, he continued. "No lettuce, no tomato, no cheese."

"I'll just write 'plain', will I?" Gerry suggested, pen poised and prepared to write down the very word since it was clear Joe wanted nothing on his chicken burger.

"No onions, no cucumber."

"One plain—"

"No relish, no pickles, no mayonnaise."

"No chicken." Gerry muttered sarcastically under his breath. Unfortunately for him, in that moment the house had fallen silent as they listened to Joe rattle off his order.

Just then, the house phone began to ring. Joe stared down at his son-in-law, a glare beginning to work its way upon his face. "What do you mean, no chicken?" He asked.

"Get that." Mary said to Erin, who got up like a stroppy child and headed for the house phone, all the while a deep set frown pulled at her lips.

"It's a chicken burger. Of course I want chicken." Joe snapped the Quinn man. He was feeling incredibly frustrated with his eejit of a son-in-law. "What are you, a simpleton? No chicken."

Erin returned to the kitchen, the phone tightly placed against the fabric of her top. "It's uncle Colm." She quietly said so as to not be heard by the man on the other end of the phone.

Mary immediately held up hands. "Well, I'm not taking it. I've been stung once already this week. An hour and forty-five minutes talking about his new shoelaces." She rehashed her previous phone encounter with the man.

"Sure, I've stopped answering my phone altogether for fear it's him, Mary." Sarah admitted.

Mary glanced her fsther's way. "Will you take it, Da?"

Joe shook his head instantly. "No chance, love." He put a stop to her question right away, not even giving her a chance to argue. He looked only slightly guilty as he put into words why he wouldn't be taking the call. "I mean, I know shouldn't say this about my own brother, but by Christ he's a boring bastard."

Erin grew frustrated. She snippily asked the group, "Well, is somebody gonna take it or not?"

"Don't you be cheeky." Her mammy snapped back. She accepted the responsibility of taking the call since no one else was willing.

Gerry frowned at his daughter. "Less of the cheek, you."

Mary snapped the phone from Erin's grip, took a breath then brought the device to her ear. "How's it going, Colm?"

While Erin returned to sit at the table, shoving herself into a chair next to her cousin, Sarah turned to look at Gerry. "Would you ever think of going cordless?

"Aye, it was braving cold earlier, that's true." Mary tiredly agreed with her uncle.

Gerry barely paid Sarah attention as he focused on the order, though this did little to deter the woman. "Shauna Sharkey went cordless and she's like a new woman now, Gerry."

"No, it's not as cold now." The totally worn out look on her aunts face caused Sinéad to giggle. They had all been the victim of Colm, trapped in his web of long winded pauses and stories that amounted to nothing.

"She can make a call from her living room, from her kitchen, from her bedroom..."

Mary suddenly had an idea to speed the man up. She cut him off before he could utter another word and said, "Right, look, Colm, I don't have long. We're sending to the chippy here."

"And the other night, right, and this is no word of a lie, she rang me from the bath." Sarah giddily said. The woman was completely oblivious to the lack of interest her brother-in-law exude. She just continued to smile at the wonderment of the cordless phones. "These cordless phones are the future."

"What? Oh my God!" Mary exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of everyone in the house.

"What's wrong?"

Worry overtook the features of Mary's face as she explained what she had learned. "Our Colm's in the police station. Last night, two gunmen forced their way into his house, tied him up, stole his van."

Everyone shared looks of total disbelief and disgust. You knew it could happen, you just never imagined it happening to someone close to you, to one of your loved ones.

"Dirty bastards." Joe sneered.

Mary let out a sigh of pity for her uncle. "Oh, God love you, you poor critter. You're to come straight round here, do you hear me? Of course, of course." She then uttered a quick bye before hanging up and setting the house phone back down.

Gerry stared worriedly up at his wife. "Is he alright?"

"He is traumatised, Gerry." Mary breathed out as she rounded the table and came to stand by her husband. "He's take a steak and kidney pie."

And once again, Gerry wrote down on the piece of paper, the number of bags of chips was called in question. "Do you think five bags will be enough?"

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THE COMFORTING SMELL OF grease and vinegar wafted through the cool evening air as Sinead, Orla and Erin made their way down the narrow street toward the local chippy. The pavement was damp from an earlier drizzle, and the dim glow of streetlights reflected faintly in the puddles.

As they approached the takeaway, the door swung open, and out stepped David Donnelly, arms laden with brown paper bags that gave off the unmistakable aroma of chips and battered sausages. He was dressed casually in a well-worn jumper and jeans, his dark curls tousled as if he'd just stepped off a stage. His doe-ish brown eyes lit up when he saw her.

"Sinéad!"

"Oh fuck." She muttered under her breath, startled, before forcing a smile. "David, hi. What's the craic?"

This was going to be awkward. Fuck, he didn't even acknowledge Erin. How the hell was she going to explain this without revealing everything that was going on?

"Nothing much." He replied, grinning. He shifted the bags in his arms as if to emphasize their weight. "Just heading to band practice here. Got me and the lads some food to last us a couple hours. You?"

Sinéad gestured vaguely toward the chippy. "Yeah, we're getting from the chippy as well."

Her cousin Erin shot her a quick, suspicious look before heading inside with Orla. Sinéad caught the raised brow but ignored it, her cheeks already flushing.

David's expression softened as he studied her. He too had caught the look. He knew she was interested in keeping what they had going a secret for the time being. "You alright?"

She looked his way, meeting his eye. "I'm grand. It's just..." She paused, debating whether to say anything at all, but the disappointment she'd been carrying since earlier spilled out before she could stop herself. "Well, we were supposed to go to Paris this year with the school, and we just found out we don't have enough money to pay for it. It's just too much for our parents to pay for."

His brows furrowed. "How much was it?"

"£375 each."

He practically choked on his own saliva. "Fuck off. That's mental."

"I know. It's so dear." She agreed with a faint laugh. "Anyway, what can you do?" She shrugged, but the sadness lingered in her tone.

Before David could say another word, Sinéad caught the eye of her friends as they too headed into the chippy, each of them staring at her in confusion before continuing on. The only one who didn't was Michelle, who instead wore a knowing smirk.

Sinéad let out a low groan causing David to lowly chuckle at her. He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a small, sympathetic smile. He chose to take her mind off of it and so nodded toward the takeaway. "So, what are you for getting?"

Her eyes narrowed at him, suspicion mingling with amusement. "Why do you wanna know?"

"So I know what to get you on our next date." He cheekily replied, his grin widening.

Sinéad blinked, caught off guard by his boldness. "Next date?" She echoed, crossing her arms with mock defiance. "You're awfully sure of yourself. I don't even know if I fancy you or not."

There was a beat.

"You do." David simply responded, his voice low and confident.

She bit her lip to suppress a grin, but her heart betrayed her with a quickened beat. "Plus," he added, taking a step closer. "I figure I have to be. You did stand me up last time, so."

Sinéad groaned, covering her face with her hands for a moment. "I told you, I was the victim of supposed bullying!" She protested, though she couldn't help but laugh.

Suddenly their shared laughter was brought to a halt as the sound of Fionnula yelling from inside the chippy caught their attention. "Get him out of here!"

Seconds later, James came meandering out, his head hung low and his tail between his legs. His embarrassed expression had Sinéad sighing a heavy sigh. "What the fuck'd you do, James?"

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jamielee's thoughts.
chapter four. not proofread.
this episode cracks me up. Joe yelling about the chicken burger is so funny. anyway David is flirting lads and Sinéad is loving it. Erin, not so much.  anyway hope you enjoyed :)