![]() ![]() “You’re sure your dad won’t come home?” she said. And so the boy had to go, what was left of him, what hadn’t been flayed away by her hands and her kisses. Outside of school she consistently out- classed him, and yet here she was, standing in his hall on a Monday lunchtime. She was fifteen and a bit and had been in his class for the past three years. He left the boy a pile of mangled, skinny limbs and stepped through the door a newborn man, stinging a little in the sights of the sprite guiding his metamorphosis. From here on in it would be squared shoulders and jaws, and strong arms and best feet forward. He left the boy outside its own front door. ![]() Her short stories have been in Granta, the Stinging Fly, and the anthologies The Long Gaze Back and Faber’s Town and Country. The following is from Lisa McInerney’s novel, The Glorious Heresies, which won the 2016 Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction and the Desmond Elliott Prize, was shortlisted for Best Newcomer at the Irish Book Awards, and longlisted for the Dylan Thomas Prize. ![]()
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