Me pa always said we’d win one days. Things would go back to the way they should be. But he’s wrong, least ways that’s what the politicians were saying on the news. They were all talking pretty, about this Good Friday Agreement. ‘Bout a new start for our country. What the fuck do they know? People can’t just forget ‘bout the buddies that have been killed or the soldiers who have died fighting for what is right. I lost two of me friends when they were just walking home from getting a drink at the local bar.
We’re all round the television, pa and I are cleaning are guns. Waiting for the phone to ring, hoping we’ll get the call to do something about the politicians that have gone soft. But nothing comes. I touch my balaclava for reassurance. Fuck I can’t stand to see them shake hands like that. My hand clenches around the trigger. Pa does the same, we look at each other. There’s a family on our road that shouldn’t be there. It won’t be much but it is what we do. We keep fighting, we don’t give up, we don’t give in to false promises.
The teacher stopped reading aloud and looked at the fourteen year olds. Some of them looked a little green around the edges, one or two angry. No one was indifferent. “Rick went to jail two years later,” she continued, “He learnt a lot there, he learnt religion didn’t matter in there. A protestant in fact saved his life in a brawl. Rick’s out there now talking about his experiences so other people won’t continue his mistakes, teaching people that anyone can make a fresh start.”