The Nimble Man Read Online Free PDF

born out of
quitting smoking. Any time she looked at her nails, she thought maybe lung
cancer was preferable to the complaints she got when she tried to get her
manicurist to fix them.
    "C'mon," she told him, opening her door. "We're
going to be late."
    She slammed the driver side door closed but the sixteen-
year old did not move. Dan just sat there, sweatshirt hood pulled up over his
head, arms folded across his chest. His skateboard was on the floor in the back
and her eyes flickered to it. The skate punk thing was just the latest identity
he'd tried on, and she wondered how long it would be before he shed this one. Every
time she saw him in those baggy pants she shivered. To her eyes, he looked like
a criminal. That was a terrible thought, but there was no escaping it. It was
difficult for her to conceive that these kids looked at one another — or
at each other — and thought that they looked good.
    The one thing that never changed was the music. Whether it
was Taking Back Sunday or Rancid — and wasn't that band name apropos?
— it was much the same as the clothes he wore. Julia simply could not
understand the attraction. She wasn't a fool. She didn't expect him to listen
to things she liked, old Peter Gabriel and David Bowie, or Genesis. Music was a
personal thing. It spoke to your heart, or it didn't. But with a couple of
exceptions, the sort of thing Danny listened to was just . . . it was awful. Ugly.
How could he not see that?
    Julia knew that he'd had a rough year — his father
walking out on them, the condition that gave his skin a weathered, leathery
texture — and she wished she could make it all go away, give him the
perfect life she'd hoped for since he was a baby. But life threw you curves. No
way could she have predicted his medical problem. Trying to balance her
sympathy for him with her frustration at his behavior was enough to drive her
to drink . . . or at least to run back to her cigarette habit and beg a pack of
Winston Lights to forgive her.
    Things were bound to get better. That's what she told
herself while she was biting her nails. Things had to get better. She
was determined to help Dan in any way she could and had begun home schooling
him with the finest tutors and making appointments with the best dermatologists
and psychologists. Julia still remembered the loving little boy he had been. He
had filled her with so much happiness. She wanted that boy back.
    No matter what it cost.
    "Daniel Ferrick, get out of that car right now,"
she yelled, her voice reverberating against the low concrete ceiling of the
garage. There was a quaver in it, but she promised herself she would not break
down.
    Slowly, he turned to look at her through the glass and
scowled. His skin was getting worse right along with his attitude. They had
first diagnosed it as a unique form of eczema, but she soon came to realize
that none of them really had the first clue what it was. They kept going for
tests and various special medications, and pills were prescribed, but nothing
seemed to help. When the two pronounced bumps appeared just above his temples
last week, he had nearly had a breakdown. And in private, in her bathroom with
the shower running, Julia had wept for him. She'd snuck a cigarette and blown
the smoke out her bedroom window, hoping he wouldn't smell it. Whatever else
might be done for him, Julia knew they both needed to see the family psychologist.
    "Doctor Sundin is going to be really ticked if we're
late again," she said, tapping the glass with the knuckle of her hand. "Let's
go."
    She couldn't even remember the last time she'd heard him
laugh or seen him smile. It tore her up inside, but at the same time, it was
becoming increasingly difficult to live with.
    The passenger door popped open and Dan slunk from the
vehicle. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled so far down over his head that
it completely hid his face in shadows. Over the last week or so he had begun
wearing gloves in public to conceal his