Page 43 of Head Over Skates

Cyrus grins again, his eyes lighting up. "Maybe. I guess I wouldn't mind a uniform."

"Atta boy," I say, ruffling his hair. “But let me talk to your mom about it first, okay? I need to butter her up.”

I have no idea how to do that, exactly, but I’m hoping something comes to mind soon.

Cyrus watches me curiously as I chug the last of my water and crunch the plastic bottle, setting it down next to the other three bottles I've devoured since we've been here.

"How come you don't like donuts and milk?"

I laugh. "I love donuts and milk. Just not during the season. Once we win the championship, I'll celebrate with you and two dozen donuts. How's that?"

"Okay."

"You about done? I gotta get you home. But first…"

"Aww, man."

I'm willing to bet he didn't use the can all day at school, trying to avoid bullies in the restrooms. No way he's getting a urinary tract infection on my watch.

“I gotta go, too,” I assure him. “We'll go together."

Cyrus helps me clean up our mess and we head to the back of the shop to use the John. I try not to laugh at the way he's waddling. Kid looks like a penguin. We're almost to the door when who should emerge but Emily. She startles when she sees us, eyes going wide.

"Emily! This is a surprise," I say.

She mumbles a greeting, then picks up speed to slip past me, but the hallway is narrow and Cyrus is hopping back and forth behind me.

"Actually, I'm glad I ran into you," I say, angling my body so she'll stop and talk to me for a minute. I need to explain my behavior the other night.

I think I freaked her out, first with the Robert DeNiro-esque threat in the bar and then my mini impression of The Beast when she basically accused me of being just like my father. It felt like a sharp object was piercing my lungs. Breaths came short, my vision fading. I didn’t want her to see me like that.

"Well, I'm kind of in a hurry," she says, looking back over her shoulder. Her wide hazel eyes dart around as if she's looking for someone. “I’ll see you at wor?—”

Just then, the women’s bathroom door swings open again and another woman steps out. Early twenties, light skin, big doe eyes. Strikingly pretty, even with the alarmed look on her face.

Probably a fan. I knew I should have worn a disguise.

Emily whips her head around, dread flashing across her features.

"Jaime, I..." She falters, at a loss for words. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know…"

I give them both a friendly smile. "Jaime, eh? Nice to meet you. I have a cousin named Jaime." I extend my hand. "I'm Owen."

The other girl—Jaime—freezes and doesnottake my outstretched hand. She's gone sheet white.

Cyrus bounces on his toes, now in full emergency mode. "I'm Cyrus!" he announces, also sticking out his hand.

Emily's eyes tick down to Cyrus. "You'reCyrus?"

"I gotta pee," he says.

Jaime's cheeks bloom crimson. Her eyes glisten as they brim with hot tears. Then she shoulders her way between us all and hurries toward the exit.

"Is your friend alright?"

Emily whirls on me, eyes blazing. "What is wrong with you?" she hisses.

"I'm sorry. Was it something I said?"

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