Me and You Read Online Free PDF

should be
doing to become an adult.
    But suddenly my mother turned down the radio. ‘Look at that dress in the window. What do you think?’
    ‘Nice. Maybe a little too saucy?’
    She looked at me in surprise. ‘Saucy?! Since when have you used that word?’
    ‘I heard it in a film. There was this woman and they said she was wearing a dress that looked saucy.’
    ‘Do you know what it means though?’
    ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘That it’s too revealing.’
    ‘I don’t think it’s too revealing.’
    ‘Maybe not.’
    ‘Shall I try it on?’
    ‘Sure.’
    And just like magic, a four-wheel drive pulled out of a free parking space in front of us. With an instinctive swerve my mother pulled in.
    A loud thump against the car. Mum hit the brake and let go of the clutch. I lurched forward but the seatbelt held me back against the seat. The engine hiccupped and died.
    I turned my head. A yellow Smart car was glued to the back door of the BMW.
    It had driven into us.
    ‘Noooo. What a pain!’ my mother huffed as she wound down the window to inspect the damage.
    I stuck my head out too. There wasn’t a scratch on the BMW or anything on the bulldog-shaped nose of the Smart car. On the dashboard lay a white and light blue stuffed centipede with LAZIO
written on it. Then I noticed that the Smart car was missing its left wing mirror. In the spot where it used to be was a hole, with multicoloured wires sticking out. ‘Look, Mum.’
    The car door flew open and spat out the trunk of a man who had to be at least six feet tall and three feet wide.
    I wondered how he managed to fit into that tin can. He looked like a hermit crab stretching its head and its pincers out of its shell. He had small blue eyes, a big raven-black fringe, a horsy
set of teeth and a cocoa tan.
    ‘What happened?’ my mother asked him.
    The guy got out and knelt down next to the mirror. He was looking at it with a pained yet dignified expression, as if what lay on the ground wasn’t a piece of plastic and glass, but the
body of his mother. He didn’t even touch it, like it was a corpse waiting for forensics to show up.
    ‘What happened?’ my mother said again, calmly, sticking her head out of the window.
    The guy didn’t even turn around, but answered, ‘What happened?! You want to know what happened?’ He had a deep, hoarse voice, like he was talking through a plastic pipe.
‘Then get out of that car and take a look.’
    ‘Stay here,’ Mum said to me, looking me in the eye. She undid her seatbelt and got out of the car.
    Through the window I saw her peach-coloured suit become flecked with rain.
    A couple of pedestrians, standing beneath their umbrellas, stopped to watch. Cars were honking, trying to get around the obstacle like ants faced with a pine cone. About thirty metres away a bus
began sounding its horn.
    From inside the car I could see everyone’s eyes settling on my mother. I started sweating and felt my breathing quicken.
    ‘Maybe we should move,’ my mother suggested to the guy. ‘You know, the traffic . . .’
    But the guy couldn’t hear her, he kept staring at the mirror as if by the power of his mind he could join it back to the car.
    So my mother moved towards him and, looking a little guilty and pretending to sympathise, she asked him again, ‘How did it happen?’
    The rain mixing with his hair gel had made the man’s head shiny, highlighting a little bald patch right in the middle of his head.
    Not having got an answer, my mother added softly, ‘Is it serious?’
    Finally the guy turned his head and realised that the perpetrator of the horror before him was standing next to him. He studied mum from her feet up to her hair, then he took one look at our car
and a little smile appeared on his face.
    The same mean little smile that Varaldi and Riccardelli had when they looked at me from their scooters. The little smile of the predator that has locked on to his prey.
    I had to warn her.
    The Lazio supporter had picked