Philly McMahon - The Choice: A New Novel For Young Readers--Based on the Award Winning True Story

For Mam and Dad, for all youve done for us

For Sarah and Leannain, for all well do together

CONTENTS

I engraved me name on the pillars of the arch So that when I left Id always leave me mark. Everything I am, I owe to you.

Gemma Dunleavy, Up De Flats

BALLYMUN, DUBLIN, 2001

I got my head out of the way just in time. The skin of his knuckles brushed the side of my cheek, like your mam might do if you had a bit of dirt on your face, and missed.

I didnt want a fight. But I didnt have much of a choice now. So I took a step towards him and took a swing back.

A spark of electricity shot through the crowd. There must have been forty lads there watching us, fencing us in in a circle so that even if we wanted to leg it we couldnt, and once they saw those first punches, they knew they were going to get what they came for. Game on.

Eddie Moran bounced around on his feet like a boxer, shouting at me, shouting at himself, trying to figure out his next move. And for what?

Eddie Moran was from Shangan. I was from Sillogue. He slagged my ma. I slagged his da.

And now we had to fight.

The school yard wasnt the place for it, and even if, earlier in the day, the two of us had wanted to go back inside to the classroom, sit down and forget about it, we werent allowed to. The fuse had been lit, and the news had spread like wildfire, desk to desk.

Scrap up at the Monos after school. Eddie and Philly. Pass it on.

Eddies going to batter him. Pass it on.

Phillys das in the RA. Pass it on.

When there was a fight, the best spot to watch it from was on top of one of the Monos, these two long rows of tall, round stones and concrete cubes of different shapes and sizes. They were supposed to be art, I think, but for us, they were a ready-made boxing ring. If you were up on top, you had a great spot to see everything, and there was much less risk of being dragged into the middle of it.

Because even though these things started as a one-on-one, it didnt take much for them to end up as something bigger. It was a bit stupid that you had to be Sillogue or Balcurris or Balbutcher or Shangan because that was where you lived and that was who you hung around with. Stupid that lads who lived two minutes around the corner from each other and went to school together were told they hated each other.

At the end of the day, we were all from Ballymun, and Ballymun was bigger than everywhere.

But that was just the way it was.

Now, Eddie Moran was moving, shaping, taking two steps closer to me and then one step back, just to see how Id react. I caught Kevs eye as we went around in a circle again. Kev had his jumper off, his tie off and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up around his elbows. He nodded when he saw me look over at him, encouraging me with his eyes. He wouldnt jump in unless one of the Shangan lads jumped in. Or unless things were getting bad and Eddie needed to be dragged off me. He was my best friend, but Kev didnt want to be there either.

A driver beeped his car horn at us as he pulled away from the traffic lights, but nobody paid any attention. It would take more than a few beeps to break up a scrap. The next time Eddie came at me, I went for a low kick to try to catch him around the ankles and knock him off balance. I knew I wasnt close enough to hit him, but I had to at least look like I was trying and not playing for a draw.

If this turned into a proper scrap and I got my jumper ripped, Id have to go home and explain it. If my mam didnt have time to fix it, Id have to wear it in to school the next day still ripped, or Id have to wear a different jumper instead. Either way, it sounded like an easy ticket to another detention once Mr McEvoy spotted me. Or worse again, I could get hurt and miss training.

So, yeah, there was a lot at stake for a fight that I really didnt want to be in.

But as I said, I didnt have a choice. Because in Ballymun, the only thing worse than losing a fight was running away from one. Youd only have a black eye for a couple of weeks, but youd have your reputation forever.

Are yous fighting or what? Come on! A voice I didnt recognise shouted in at us, and the frustration spread like a ripple.

Stop just dancing around, someone else shouted. One of you do something.

And then the chanting started, one or two voices by themselves at first: Fight. Fight. Fight.

Until more joined in and then everyone was at it: FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT.

A sudden shove in my back shot me forward into the middle of the circle and I stumbled, off balance, right into Eddies fist. He caught me square underneath my right eye, right on the bone. The crack of his punch sounded like it had come from somewhere very far away, but my whole face felt like it had burst into flames. I fell backwards, managing to stay on my feet. I took my hand away from my face and, through my one open eye, quickly checked it for blood. Nothing. Yet.

The world flipped upside down and I landed with a thump, my back slamming into the stony earth. Eddie had sensed his moment and wrestled me to the ground. I did my best to cover up, waiting for him to start swinging wildly, but instead, he flipped me so I was lying face down. With one knee in the middle of my back, and one knee on my neck, he pressed.

All he wanted was to hear me say that I quit. To say that he had won. That was my only way out of this now.

There was shouting and cheering, and it was getting louder. They were getting what they wanted. Eddie put more weight into his knee, pressing like hed happily snap my neck if I didnt give up first. The ground was cool, but the pebbles were embedding themselves into the side of my face. It was getting hard to breathe, to get the air into my lungs, when another person was putting every last bit of effort into keeping me down. I started feeling dizzy, like I was going to pass out.

All right, I quit. I quit. I had no choice, but the words hadnt left my lips yet when everything lifted. The pain shooting through my neck stopped. I could breathe.

What the ? Eddie cried out, as surprised as anyone. Get your hands off me!

I rolled over before I was trampled on, expecting all hell to break loose, when a big hand grabbed my collar and dragged me back onto my feet.

It was John.

You didnt need to hop in for me, I argued as we walked back towards home. I could have got him myself.

Thats not what it looked like, John said, my schoolbag hanging on his shoulder. And thats not much of a thank you, is it?

Yeah, but now Im going to be the lad whose big brother hops in for him.

John laughed. And what? Is that a bad thing? Id have loved to have a big brother hopping in for me. No harm having lads think that Ill come around and batter them if they touch you. It might make them leave you alone. Anyway, he said, giving me a little dig in the arm, youd have been picking bits of gravel out of your teeth for a week if I hadnt shown up.

It wasnt that bad, shut up, I said. And then, eventually, Thanks for getting him off me, though. I thought he was going to break my neck.

John smelled like blood not human blood, animal blood. He worked up in the Meat Packers, a big factory out near the airport. He had worked there for three years, maybe four. He started off when he was 16, doing one shift a week; he went out on his lunch break one day to collect his Junior Cert results and he never went back to school again. It was his job to pick up the slabs of raw meat from the butchers counter, where theyd been hacking them apart, and carry them over to the packaging counter so they could be boxed up and sent out to the shops. He had to wear plastic overalls and special gloves so the meat didnt get contaminated, but his clothes still stank every day when he came in the door. He wouldnt even need to say hi or call out that he was home: youd smell him before youd see him.