Liam and the family

Another typical afternoon on the bus ride home. Two girls, each about 15 years old, punching each other affectionately in the back seat. A mobile phone rings between them.
"Liam, you're drunk!"
Her friend in the pink pajamas and trainers shouts:
"Ha! Ha!"
into the phone.
"Mary Gillick texted me and said 'Ure kid is plain in the road'."
Liam says something...
"I don't care. Why are you drinking?"
There a reply of some kind...
"Oh *you* get depressed, do you? Well *I* get depressed too, but I don't spend all my money on drink in the middle of the day!"
He says something more...
"We're walking around The Square. We'll be home in an hour."
They're on a bus leaving The Square, but Liam isn't to know.
"What were you doing phoning my mother for money last week and telling her the baby needed rusks? I *know* that's a lie, because I bought her rusks. And me Ma knew it was a lie, cos I told her I bought rusks."
The conversation waltzes about in wide-spinning circles with her ear-bashing him about his drinking, his friends, his money, his dole. Occasionally, the friend shrieks something meaningful in the direction of the phone.
I drift away into my own thoughts for a while.
Almost home and a bunch of other 14 and 15 year olds get on the bus.
"Jesus! Look at you!"
"I know. Jesus! Three months is ages!"
Bringing up the rear is a black kid in a baseball cap. He is to gangle what blizzard is to snowflake.
"No, I'm in court on Thursday. I'll call you after....", he says. "I just have something to do in court. Yeah. Bye."
The three-monther turns to the friend:
"What do you have on?"
"Pajamas."
"Are you serious? What do you have under them?"
"Skin, mostly."
They start chatting to the black kid and I trudge downstairs, wondering what's in the cupboard for dinner.