Free Breaking the Fall by Michael Cadnum

words. “Tu says you have a boyfriend.”
    She gave a sideways look, her head tilted back, regal and very slightly offended. Her long black hair, full and highlighted with a burnish of mahogany, flowed about her, and her dark eyes took me in, weighed me, held me. “What does Tu say?”
    â€œHe says there’s someone else you know.”
    â€œI know many people, Stanley.” She was solemn, but she was something else, too. Was she also teasing me, just a little? I tingled inside at the thought. It was an almost pleasant feeling.
    â€œTu likes you,” she added.
    â€œI don’t know anything about cars,” I said, wondering why I insisted on making such a baldly honest statement.
    She looked at me sideways again. She was smiling, inwardly, and her eyes were narrow and searching my own eyes. “I think you know some things,” she said.
    â€œI like history,” I said, chattering on like someone who has taken sodium pentothal and absolutely has to blab the truth. “It would be wonderful to be a historian. To go back and figure out how things were and tell people about it.”
    â€œI thought you were very different.”
    That shut me up.
    â€œI thought you were going to be in trouble.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œWith Jared.”
    â€œI hardly know Jared.”
    This first lie, out so quick, surprised me, and I sank back, away from what I had said, actually leaning back against the step. The concrete ledge dug into my backbone. A sow bug, curled up into a little seed, rolled in place beside my elbow. I had just now nearly crushed it.
    â€œI used to know him,” I added, for the sake of plausibility, and also because I knew she had seen the two of us together. To salvage some self-respect, I continued, “He’s really an interesting guy.”
    The cat purred under her hand. “You should meet my father,” she said.
    I looked out at the front yard, the big palm tree with its huge, dropped feathers and old date pits, the quiet street. A pigeon clapped through the air. I could see that talking with Sky was going to be an unusual experience. She didn’t indulge in the paragraphs that come between the title and the conclusion.
    â€œHe saw you,” she added. “When you were here, pushing the car.”
    I helped the sow bug back to the edge of the steps and off into the geraniums.
    â€œHe wants to meet everyone,” she said. I knew she meant everyone Sky was involved with. Did that mean, I wondered, that I was involved with her? But it was easy to imagine Mr. Tagaloa: gigantic, with dark, intelligent eyes. The sort of grown man who sees into someone like me, and knows. I had seen him only once or twice, a large man driving a copper-brown van picking up Sky after school.
    â€œBut I have to think first.” She looked away. I had always wanted to talk with Sky, as I was now, but I had not anticipated her turns of thought. She leaned toward me, her eyes on mine, and said, “We have skunks.”
    â€œAren’t they kind of a nuisance?” When she didn’t respond, I added, “They eat garbage, don’t they?”
    â€œSometimes. I used to see their footprints around the garbage cans. I feed them.”
    I took a breath, gazed at the palm tree, and said, “They must like you.”
    She was laughing then, her eyes nearly vanished, a large, quiet laugh, so much like Jared’s way of laughing that I twitched and fell very still. “You think I’m crazy.”
    â€œNo.” I said that very quickly.
    â€œYou think I’m lying, don’t you, Stanley?”
    â€œWhy would you lie? It’s nothing to brag about.” I clenched my fists. Talking with her was a disaster.
    â€œMy father will like talking to you, Stanley. He knows a lot.” She watched her brother open the car door and lie down on the front seat, his legs sticking out into the sunlight.
    â€œCome over on Saturday,” she