Free Paper Cuts by Yvonne Collins Page B

what you had left over.’
    ‘It’s not what you think. I don’t like Mac or anything.’
    ‘You mean his “mystery date” was that appealing?’
    ‘I had to bid on him.’ I run through a list of possible excuses in my mind, each seeming lamer than the last. ‘But I can’t tell you why.’
    Tyler opens the car door, shaking his head in disgust. ‘I thought you were different, but you’re just like the other airheads.’
    ‘That’s not true. I wish I could tell you why, but I can’t. I’m really sorry.’
    ‘I’m not,’ he says, climbing into the car. ‘I’m glad I found out now.’
    There’s a shout behind us, and Tyler’s face reddens. It’s the guy who won the bid. ‘Hey, Milano,’ he shouts. ‘Just drop the Bulls’ tickets in my locker and we’ll call it even, okay? Forget about the dinner.’
    Tyler slams his door in my face, and in a squeal of rubber my Arty FB is gone.

    Mariah is perched on a sink in the girls’ restroom when I enter. It’s the only place Curtis can’t follow her.
    I consider turning around and leaving again, but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction. ‘Hi,’ I say, trying to sound breezy.
    She stares at me for a moment. ‘You know this isn’t going to happen, right?’
    I pull out my lip gloss and apply it. ‘What isn’t?’
    ‘You and Mac Landis. Not. Going. To. Happen.’
    Arguing would only convince her that I’m interested in Mac, which I’m not, so I take a different tack. ‘You know that you and Curtis are going to happen, right?’
    She grips the sides of the sink and mutters something in Spanish. I can’t tell which one of us gets the worst of it, Curtis or me.
    Hopping off the sink, she waves a threatening finger in my face. ‘At least I don’t have to pay for it, Coconut.’
    I smile, mainly because I don’t have a comeback, but it seems to rile her more. Normally I’d be running already, but I’m less intimidated when it’s just the two of us.
    Mariah continues, ‘Mac would never go out with someone like you if it weren’t charity.’
    ‘I know,’ I say, backing toward the door. ‘It’s not like you and Curtis. You’re going to be great together.’
    Something heavy hits the door behind me as I leave.

Chapter Six

    The L train rumbles into Roosevelt/State station. ‘Where are we going?’ I ask. Not for the first time.
    Mac silently shrugs his broad shoulders. Also not for the first time. He’s barely said a word since we met on a street corner twenty-five minutes ago. He has, however, communicated nonverbally – through grunts, shrugs, and throat clearings – that he’d rather be anywhere else than sharing a day off school with me.
    Finally Mac deigns to speak. ‘It’s a mystery date.’
    I’d settle for less mystery and more communication. I’ve tossed out all sorts of conversation-starters, including a question about basketball, but he won’t take the bait. If I don’t find Mac’s ‘on’ switch soon, I’ll never learn whether he’s Scoop. And I have to find out, or it will mean I threw away both my Arty FB and a lot of money on nothing. Worse than nothing: to be treated like crap.
    ‘If I tell you where we’re going,’ he adds, ‘it won’t be a mystery.’
    Another full sentence! Things are picking up.
    The train doors open, and Mac steps out without warning. I leap out after him and almost get caught in the closing doors. By this point he’s already walking away at such a clip that I have to jog to keep up. If he’s trying to shake me, he’s going to have to work harder than that.
    ‘Could you slow down?’ I say.
    He looks at me, and something registers on his face. Maybe he’s realizing that as much as he doesn’t want to be here, I did pay good money for the pleasure of his company. ‘You’re short,’ he says.
    That wasn’t the sort of acknowledgment I’d hoped for, but he does slow down slightly.
    ‘Are we going to Grant Park?’
    ‘Nah, the cops are always on patrol,’ he replies