Free Skater Boy by Mari Mancusi Page A

to my stomach. Working on less than two hours of sleep—bleh! Any reasonable person would have called in sick, but Mrs. McCrery lives for my visits and I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint her. One time I skipped a Saturday because of a dance recital and the old woman tried to break out of the nursing home to come find me, convinced I’d been in a deadly car accident. That’s what happened to her real-life granddaughter Kelly. It took three days and a special Tuesday visit from me to reassure her I was still alive and kicking. So no matter what else is going on in my life, I have to see Mrs. McCrery.
    â€œNow, where were we?” I ask, flipping the pages of the romance novel I’d brought to read to her. When I first met Mrs. McCrery, the woman liked nothing but long historical epics, which bored me to tears. So now I try to mix it up a bit—broaden her literary horizons, so to speak. Like today; we’re reading this way cool action romance about vampires, werewolves, and robots, all living in futuristic LA. And she’s totally digging it. Which goes to show, old people can be way cooler than most people assume.
    â€œThe good part,” Mrs. McCrery crows, clapping her wrinkled hands together. I stifle a groan. By the good part, she means the sex scene. Sometimes I try to skip over those—kind of embarrassing to read out loud to a woman who could be your great-grandmother—but they’re her favorite part. And since I’ve already fallen asleep on the job, I figure I should probably indulge her this time.
    â€œHe leaned in to caress her delicate—”
    â€œDo you have a beau, Dawn, dearie?”
    I put a finger in the book to hold its place, happy to put the sex-scene reading aside. Evidently Mrs. McCrery has picked up on my just-been-kissed afterglow. I’m not surprised. Even in my exhaustion, I feel I’m radiating nuclear-powered love vibes.
    â€œI’m kind of seeing a guy named Sean,” I admit, fiddling with the end of my braid, a soppy smile accompanying my admission.
    â€œSean. Such a nice Irish name,” Mrs. McCrery says with a sigh. “What’s his family name?”
    Hmm. Actually, I have no idea. Weird. I mean, on one hand I feel like this guy is my soul mate, and on the other, I hardly know anything about him. Where does he live? What’s his family like? When’s his birthday? The only things I know are that 1) he wants to be a professional skater and go to college, and 2) he’s an amazing kisser.
    Luckily, with Mrs. McCrery, if you ignore her question for about two minutes, she forgets she’s asked it. Which is very helpful, since she tends to ask some pretty embarrassing questions. But while this time she does forget, she also has a follow-up to her initial query.
    â€œWhat do your parents think?” she asks pointedly. Hmm. Sometimes she can be awfully keen for an old lady.
    â€œThey haven’t met him yet,” I admit. “But I’m sure they’ll love him when they do.”
    Yeah, right. The Evil Ones will take one look at Sean’s scruffy skater appearance and start sending out wedding invitations. Not! They’re so pigheaded they’ll never give him even the slightest chance to prove he’s a good guy.
    Meh. The more I think about it, the more I realize how much this whole thing sucks.
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    â€œDawn, may I see you after class?”
    A heavy weight plunges to the pit of my stomach at my Chemistry teacher, Sister Mary Anne’s, words. The bell rings and all the other carefree, not-in-trouble students file out of the classroom and I, instead, must approach the front of the room. Not good.
    It’s Monday, and I’m still exhausted from Friday night’s adventure. After visiting with Mrs. McCrery Saturday morning, I went straight to my gymnastics meet. I performed horribly. Even fell off the balance beam while doing the simplest turn. My coach was not