The Boy Who Made it RainThere was no one to be seen. The corridors were empty, so much so that the echo of my shoes could be clearly heard as I walked, first one way and then the other, in search of Rosie. There was a distinct air of High Noon about wandering these halls alone. Were eyes on me? Was I being followed? Had a plan already been hatched? Was I being duped and betrayed by Rosie? Did Rosie actually have women’s problems? If so, it must have come on her that morning. With this on my mind I made my way to the female toilets. No noise heard from inside. Should I go in? I waited outside for a minute or so, until a second- or third-year girl came ambling along.
‘Are you going to the toilet?’ Stupid question.
‘Naw, am aff tae confession, where dae ye think am goin?’
‘Can you see if R
