Free Cuts Like a Knife by Darlene Ryan Page B

to do on an almost Saturday night?
    â€œI wanna show you something,” she said.
    â€œShow me what?”
    She turned around and started walking backward. “See, the thing is, Danny Boy,” she said, making a big sweeping movement with one hand, “when someone wants to show you something, you have to actually see it.”
    â€œSo where’s everyone else tonight?” I asked, partly because I really did want to know, and partly because I knew she wasn’t going to tell me where we were going and I didn’t want her to think I cared about knowing that much. Yeah, I know that’s warped.
    She pressed her fingers to both sides of her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She was still walking backward, and I don’t know why she didn’t fall, but she didn’t. It was just like being up on the railing. “I’m trying, I’m trying,” she said, and then she opened her eyes and gave me a big fake shrug. “Sorry, my psychic abilities aren’t working at the moment.” She looked around.
    â€œI think all the trees are screwing with the reception.”
    â€œYeah, ha, ha, ha,” I said. She was in a weird mood. Not weird in the way that I should have been worried. I’ve thought about that a lot too. She was just crazier than she usually was. And no, it wasn’t like she’d taken something. That wasn’t Mac’s thing.
    She waited for a red suv to go by, then shot across the street. I stopped at the curb, looked both ways, and when there were no cars coming, I walked over to her. She stood on the sidewalk shaking her head, but she didn’t say anything for once. A lot of the time she called me Gramps because I always waited for the light, or if there were no walk lights, I waited until there weren’t any cars coming, unlike Mac, who thought crossing the street was like running some kind of obstacle course.
    Me, I still remembered, back in grade six, seeing Kevin Kessler get hit by a car that ignored the red lights and passed the school bus that we’d just gotten off. I was already on the other side of the street, and as I turned to say something to Kevin, the car hit him. He flew through the air, arms reaching like he was trying to grab on to something, his mouth open for a scream that never came out, and landed in the ditch to the left of me. I remember scrambling down the bank through the gravel and the weeds, screaming for someone to come help and trying not to puke, swiping at my face because I didn’t want anyone to see me crying.
    â€œAre you going to tell me where you’re taking me?” I said as we headed along the sidewalk. I knew it wouldn’t do any good to bug her. But I couldn’t seem to help doing it anyway. We were going in the general direction of the university. Was that where we were headed? Mac? Not likely.
    Mac acted like I hadn’t said anything, which is what she always did when she didn’t want to talk about stuff. Since she wasn’t going to answer my questions, I just walked along beside her, sneaking little looks at her when I figured she wasn’t paying any attention to me.
    I liked looking at Mac. She didn’t smile that often, but it made her look like some kind of hot supermodel when she did. And she had a great laugh. It made you want to know what was so damn funny when you heard it. Sometimes I tried to make her laugh just because the sound was so freakin’ good.
    â€œWhy are you looking at me, Danny Boy?” she said all of a sudden.
    Busted.
    â€œWhat makes you think I want to look at your ugly self?” I said, bumping her hip with my own.
    She just rolled her eyes and didn’t say anything else.
    At the corner we crossed over—there weren’t any cars coming in either direction—and Mac headed up the hill. I’d pretty much given up on getting her to say anything about where we were headed or why, so I didn’t ask again. I just walked