“People who don’t skate, they don’t know how sharp our blades are, right? They don’t. I held it up, I took my foot.”
Milo gasped.
“And I cut. Not just once, I crisscrossed, not too deep, but deep enough to draw a little blood.”
Milo shook his head again, hard. His wild mane rustled. It was so quiet Tom Alan could hear the sound it made.