Dancing With the Devil (11 page)

The group got up early, ripped down, and hit the road. Ma and Otis handed out the day's route and map as Mac addressed everyone.

“Remember, people,” she said before they left, “the traffic can get pretty fast on this road. And even though the wide shoulder is a decent cushion, never forget you're at a disadvantage on a bike. Sounds obvious, but tell that to the drivers who view us as criminals just for riding on
their
road. We're leaving early, so maybe we'll catch a break on the traffic.”

Dante was anchor, so the girls rode just ahead to keep him company. After the morning break they edged out of the most populated part of the state and were happy to roll over miles of uncrowded, beautiful asphalt. They passed white clapboard New England churches with gurgling streams running alongside. Through the woods they spied remains of ancient moss-covered walls and an occasional house foundation with just the chimney left standing.

Mackenzie had managed to keep her mind clear during the morning ride. She concentrated on the sun warming her back and arms and the breeze cooling her down. It was the kind of weather that could make you giddy, but she didn't want to feel anything.
Just ride
, she repeated to herself any time a stray thought crept in.

By the time they all met up for lunch she was ready for some outside distraction.

“Hey, Franks, I'm going to check out that store at the end of the block. Maybe I can find something for Lily. You want to come?”

Frankie and Dante followed, and they all headed into the little shop. The bells over the door tinkled as they walked in.

The lady behind the counter had her back turned and was trying to get a stuffed teddy bear to balance on the shelf above her. He was wearing a red tee shirt that read, “I can't BEAR to leave New England!”

The woman called over her shoulder, “Be right with you!”

The store wasn't as small as it seemed from the outside. There were long aisles that branched off, each leading to a different category of product. There were old-fashioned soaps and remedies toward the left, and Frankie walked down that row, picking up and sniffing different containers. Dante went toward the right, where there was a room completely dedicated to hats. Mac saw Dante put on a beanie with a kind of helicopter blade on top.

The woman who'd been setting up the teddy bear came up behind Mackenzie. “How can I help you?” she asked.

Mac turned and smiled at the woman. She was tiny with a short, boyish haircut that reminded Mackenzie of Barb. “I'm looking for a gift for my little sister. She's going to be six.”

After asking way more questions than Mac had expected, the woman finally pointed her to the back of the store, where a display stood that stopped her short. It was a whole medieval village populated with little handmade dolls. Mackenzie stared at it, remembering.

She had wanted to disappear when her father came to her at night. She learned how to ride away on her flying bicycle, at first envisioning herself in her footie PJs, but that wasn't protection enough. Soon, she imagined wearing a suit of armor like the knights in all those princess books her father bought for her. She never thought about being the princess, ever. Mac didn't want to be the person who needed rescuing. She wanted to be the rescuer.

Now she stood, looking at the figurines. Each one was painted with delicate, detailed accuracy. Surrounding a castle, complete with turrets and drawbridge, there was a doll villager in a horse-driven hay wagon, doll maidens roaming the cobblestone streets next to oxen, and doll children playing. Inside the castle Mac could see jousting doll knights and the doll royalty they served.

She plucked the princess from the tower and stared at it in the palm of her hand, and smiled.
Lucky Lily.
She reached over and grabbed up one of the knights in her other hand. She brought them to the register and paid for them.

“Am I wrapping them both?”

“Just the princess, please,” Mac told the woman as she zipped the little knight into the pocket in the back of her shammy.

The saleslady prattled on about local attractions as she wrapped the princess for Lily in a purple box with lots of red, pink, and orange ribbons, which she curled so they spilled over the edge of the box like a multicolored waterfall.

Mackenzie fingered the ribbon as she waited outside for Dante and the girls to finish up, and tried to grasp another thought that had rolled out of her reach. Just as she was about to connect with it, Dante exited the shop waving his new beanie in the air, and it was gone. She sighed and pushed whatever it was back to the corners of her mind, tucked the little box into her pack in the van and went to eat her lunch.

By the end of the day, Mackenzie was as exhausted from trying not to think as she was from the ride. They arrived at their destination, a house right in front of a lake, where Otis was already waiting in the van.

Ma disappeared for a couple of minutes, then trotted back down the walk jangling a ring with lots of keys attached.

“What's going on?” Charlie asked.

“Where are we staying, Ma? I thought we were at a hostel tonight?”

MaToya and Otis grinned at each other. “I know we only just started, but this was the only available time we could stay here,” Ma said.

Murmurs rolled through the small group. Ma continued, “The house belongs to the family of one of my roommates at UVM. They own all this land, down to the lake, where there're a bunch of cottages farther down the property. That's where we'll be staying. They usually rent them out over the Fourth, but an entire family reunion cancelled at the last minute, and she just let me know. So we'll kick it here for Independence Day.”

Mac whispered to Frankie, “Geez, I forgot all about the holiday.”

“You would.” Frankie knitted her eyebrows together and looked at Mackenzie.

Mac made a big cheerleading gesture like she was holding pom-poms and then forced a gigantic smile. “Rah-rah America.”
No wonder I blanked it
, Mac thought. The fakey patriotism wasn't the only reason she'd always hated the Fourth of July. Barb and her Dad loved spending time at the beach house, and she was stuck going to the stupid club for a massive barbecue and boring conversation. And worse, having to help decorate for the annual Father-Daughter Dance, because even though she never went, all the members' kids put it on.

She should relax, though, since this year she was off the hook.
Nothing like a bike trip to get out of your responsibilities!
Yet she still felt uncomfortable somehow. The snakes were slithering around in her stomach, and once again she had that niggling, unfinished-business feeling—like when she'd taken an apple out of the fridge and had forgotten all about it, leaving it somewhere after only one or two bites. She knew there was something around needing her attention but just couldn't put her finger on it. She ran her fingers through her hair and decided once again to push thoughts of Grady, Sophie, and her father out of her mind.

After they dumped their stuff in the cabins, Mac, Dante, and Frankie walked through a wooded path to the lake. As they got closer, Frankie broke into a run, whooping it up, and kept going until she stopped and crouched down near the water's edge a couple hundred feet from them.

Dante whistled when they came through the thicket, seeing the lake glistening in the late afternoon sunlight. “Ma said there are over two hundred lakes around here. There's tons of stuff to do, too. We could get a kayak or take one of those boat cruise tours. Oh! I know—you guys want to go strawberry picking tomorrow before the fireworks?” He leaned down and chose the perfect rock for skipping across the still surface of the lake. “Even though I still say it doesn't seem right to have fireworks the day
before
July Fourth.”

“What are you going to do? There are actually people who have to work the day after.”

“Suckers.”

Frankie was still sitting on her haunches, and they watched as she plugged into her music.

“I can't believe she hasn't been busted yet.”

They walked closer and could hear her singing to herself as she picked up and examined different stones, and then tossed them back into the icy water where they landed with a plop. Her voice drifted toward them. It was the same song she had been listening to in the tent. Mac recognized it now. It was a remake of an old song. In a flat, tuneless voice, Frankie sang:

If you can fly away, fly away,

Little princess,

Dream a dream with any scene,

My little princess …

Before she could think or stop herself, Mackenzie turned and threw up in a bush. Frankie and Dante rushed over to her. Frankie put her hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Maybe you ate something weird,” Dante suggested.

Mac wiped her mouth as best she could and waved them off. She went down to where the tiny waves lapped at the shore and washed her mouth out with a handful of lake water. “I hope this stuff is clean!” she said, trying to refocus their attention. But they were worried about her and weren't to be distracted.

“C'mon, let's walk you up to the cabin. You can take a shower and maybe get a nap in before dinner,” Frankie said.

Dante folded his arms and shook his head at her. “What are we going to do with you, girlie girl? Our leader's not allowed to get sick on us. Lucky for you we're here a couple of days, so you can rest up and get better.”

Mac's stomach didn't feel any better after she showered. The snakes were back, and they'd brought along the scorpions and spiders. Her friends had left her to rest, pulling the curtains and leaving her in semi-darkness. They all thought she was coming down with something. And she was.

Memories.

My little princess.

The song played over and over in her mind. Mackenzie could see it all now: her father holding her in his arms, twirling them around the dance floor. She wore the dress her mom had given her. The special party dress covered in red polka dots. Mac rubbed her arms as she remembered the puffy sleeves with the tight elastic that made her arms itch.

But she hadn't cared about that. It was her magical night, the one her mama had told her about. That's why she'd gotten the dress then, because she knew she wouldn't be around to buy it for her when it was time to go to the dance. But Mackenzie had grown more than her mother could've predicted, and the sleeves were too tight. The dress was a little too small all over. But Mama had picked it out, it was the last gift she'd given Mac before dying, and Mackenzie refused to wear anything else.

It was her magical night, and she wore her special princess dress and she felt like a for-real princess. Daddy said it was her royal ball, and he let her sit on his lap to watch the fireworks after. She snuggled in his arms, and he hugged her as the explosions crashed and boomed overhead. Splitting into a million sparkly diamonds, just like on a princess crown.

She remembered watching the explosions. Swinging her legs as she sat on her father's lap. The dress rode up. It was too short, and she was tugging at the hem. She went over it in her mind again.

Tugging the hem.

The fireworks.

Sitting on his lap.

When had she gotten the food on her dress?
Had
she ruined it?

No. She hadn't.

But was it her fault, what happened next?

When her father had pulled her dress over her head that night, he'd kissed the band of red marks that encircled her upper arms where the sleeves had pinched. He moved away from her arms but kept kissing her. Not like a father is supposed to kiss his daughter. But she didn't know that then. Not for sure. Mac never saw her father kiss anyone this way,
so ha ha he likes me best,
she'd thought
.

Mackenzie jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to vomit again.

How could I have let him do that?

But I was so young. When you're that little you don't know.
Should
I have known?

After, her father had gone to sleep in his own room. Deep into the night she had lain in bed, awake and shivering.

But not crying. She couldn't let herself cry. What if he heard her and came back?

She had wanted to go back in time, to the before time. Before it happened. To when Mama had her try the dress on, when it still fit her and looked so pretty. To before, when it was new and not crumpled in a wrinkled heap on the floor. She wanted to go back and parade around in her beautiful princess dress, modeling it in front of her mom's sick bed. Go back to when it fit her and she was little. She wanted to be little again. She had crawled out of bed and picked the dress up off the floor, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. She started to put the dress on again all by herself, but got tangled up. Instead, all she could do was hug it tight, wrapping her whole body around it.

Finally, Mackenzie remembered the first time. She remembered all the blood. Her dress got ruined that night, but it wasn't because she dropped her food in her lap.

She remembered the Father-Daughter Dance.

She had been barely six.

Mackenzie felt the bile rise, but she swallowed hard and didn't allow herself to get sick again. Getting sick was for weaklings. For victims. She was a survivor, strong now. So what if she couldn't rescue herself when she was little? She was six freakin' years old, for crying out loud. She couldn't have. And anyway, if you count a 35-pound girl banging her fists against a big hairy 190-pound man, then at least she'd put up a fight.

What if Barb hadn't moved away before the dance? Maybe they would've married sooner, and he never would've begun their “special club.” What if he hadn't helped her out of her dress that night? Would he have started up with her anyway? Or did it just happen to happen?

No, if that were the case, it wouldn't have continued. But it did end. As soon as he married Barb.

Thank God for Barb.

He got himself a wife and did her instead. Plus, maybe he was scared Barb would catch him doing that. But why would he be scared of her? She was hardly bigger than a kid herself. And anyway, if he didn't want to get caught, he would've just made his visits when Barb was out of town. And, Mackenzie reminded herself, it was exactly then, the first time Barb left them alone after their engagement, that it ended. It ended that same night she got her wedding outfit. So wait. Why didn't he go on that night? She was out of town then.

Did it end? Or did
he
stop?

He stopped. But why? What was different about that time, that night?

He was getting married, okay, but he wasn't married
yet.
Barb was gone so it wasn't as though he could get caught, not that he thought he was doing anything wrong. He came in to her room and started up with her, as usual. Then he kissed her goodnight and left.

He stopped.

Why?

Maybe there was a better question. And Mackenzie knew what it was.

Maybe the better question was why did he stop
when
he did? He'd stopped when he touched her chest. That couldn't be it, could it? She grew breasts and, TA-DA, it's over? But that would mean it was never because he got married. That would mean he only liked her when she was little.

Thank God for Barb? More like, thank God for breasts
,
she thought.

Mac laughed. She laughed until she was wheezing and tears rolled down her cheeks. The wheezing became hiccupping, and the hiccupping became sobs.

The tears kept coming, and for the first time since she was six years old, Mackenzie let them.

She awoke with a start and squinted against the bright sunshine spilling into the room.

“Oh, dude, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?”

Mac shielded her eyes, trying to see who was talking to her. It was Frankie. “No, it's okay,” she croaked. Her voice was ragged and she felt as though every drop of water had been squeezed from her body. Her mouth was so dry it clicked when she spoke.

“What time is it, anyway? Where is everyone?”

“We just ate lunch. There's a sandwich saved for you, but we're all about to head to this farm where you can pick your own strawberries. Charlie's being an asshole again, making lame jokes to Dante about fruit and whatnot. Like
that's
original.” She shook her head. “We're thinking about losing him in the strawberry fields.” She pulled her hand out of her pack, palming the forbidden iPod. “You coming?”

“No, you guys go ahead. I think I'll rest up. Hey, Franks?” Mac wasn't sure she wanted to do this, but she was starting to think that the only way to be as strong as possible was to deal. She'd avoided it for so long, and maybe if she had dealt with it, she could've moved on sooner. Or she could've stopped it. The least she could do for herself was face what happened.

“You mind if I borrow your iPod? I won't kill the battery, I promise.”

Frankie looked at the player in her hand, then back at Mackenzie, still sitting on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, why not? MaToya's coming, so I couldn't use it there anyway.” Before she let the screen door slam behind her, she added, “Besides, D wants me to be a part of the group and to, like, talk. What is
that
about?”

Mackenzie lay back down, scrunching the pillow under her head for support. She shoved her shampoo, toothpaste, and other stuff to the side and put on the headset.

Clickety, clickety went the scroll wheel as she thumbed through Frankie's playlists. She took a deep breath and pressed the button when she got to the song she was looking for.

The guitar strummed sadly with the organ accompanying, matched and comfortable, like a pair of old shoes. No rushing. Just together, shuffling across the dance floor. Then the singing began, questioning, pleading; Mackenzie swallowed and remembered.

If you can fly away, fly away …

The music was so evocative; she could practically smell the barbecue. They'd been sitting on the patio, the scent of burgers and hotdogs making her stomach growl. Mackenzie refused to eat, scared she might spill something on her beautiful party dress.

“Is my princess hungry?” her father had asked. “Is that your stomach making all that noise, or is the drummer giving us a beat to dance to?”

She had giggled, loving his attention. His friend Barb had just moved away, and Mackenzie finally had him all to herself again.

Her dad brought over two hotdogs. Leaning way over the table to protect her precious dress, she gobbled hers the minute he set it down.

Mac thought it was really neat that the paper plates had flags printed on them and said she would be all ready for kindergarten because she already knew the Pledge of Allegiance. She recited it through her full mouth, making her father laugh.

Little princess,

Dream a dream with any scene,

My little princess.

As soon as they finished eating, a sudden wind caught their plates and spun them into the air where they flew like real flags. It also brought the smoke to where they were sitting, and Mackenzie coughed, so her father took her in, and they started to dance to this song. Mac remembered thinking it was funny because the man was singing about his little princess, and that's what
her
daddy called her, too.

After the fireworks, they went home, but Mac was too excited to sleep, so her father said they could have an extra long cuddle once he helped her into her PJs.

You can go anywhere you want to go

Above the rain, beyond the snow,

Below the sea, just come with me,

And we can be our own royalty,

My little princess.

She didn't need to hear the rest and powered off the iPod. Mackenzie didn't move for a very long time. She lay on her bed, one arm under her head, the other resting over her stomach, looking into the distance.

For ten years she couldn't remember that first time. Now she remembered it as clearly as if it'd been last night. And tomorrow night The Brat would be going to her first Father-Daughter Dance. Thank God Lily got to have a carefree childhood, and was spared the nightmare Mac had endured. It was almost like they had different fathers. Lily was blessed that she'd be able to remember the dance and have them be good memories. Happy ones.

She snorted and shook her head as she remembered thinking
thank God for breasts.
What if she hadn't developed until later? Or if she'd been flat-chested? Her father would've kept on her, she felt sure.

“Yeah, but I bet he'll stop now!”

Mackenzie was jolted out of her thoughts. She was stiff from being in the same position for so long, and stretched her arms and legs. She heard Frankie's voice again, closer now. “I said Charlie'll have to stop now, Dante!”

“Yeah, we showed him, D! See you at dinner!” Frankie clomped in, slamming the screen door. “Sorry, Mac.” She added, “Dude, you are in the exact same position you were when I left. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, fine,” Mackenzie assured her. “How was the picking? Where are all the berries?”

“Charlie kept up with these stupid fruit jokes, so we took, like, all of our buckets and dumped them on his head,” Frankie said.

Frankie grinned. “We saved a few, but I doubt Charlie will want any. I think he's had enough to last him awhile.”

After everyone got cleaned up, they had dinner and dessert, sharing a meager helping of strawberries with whipped cream. Charlie ate without saying one word. When MaToya and Otis went off to plan the next day's activities, he grabbed the whipped cream can and sprayed it straight into his mouth.

“Gross,” Frankie said.

Dante just scoffed and turned away. Mac got up to clear the table.

By the time they all traipsed down to the lake to watch the fireworks, Charlie looked as though he was ready for some payback, but still, he didn't say a word.

Everyone spread towels down and settled in on the private dock in front of the main house. Dante sat and let his legs dangle over the water, while Frankie lay down near the edge and used his lap for a pillow.

Mackenzie was on all fours trying to smooth out her towel as Charlie passed her on the way to the end of the dock. He crouched down and began to crawl toward Frankie, silent as an evening breeze. She turned her head at the last minute and said, “Not even close, dude.”

Charlie acted all innocent but crawled away and, turning around, came head to head with Mac. “We look like a couple of dogs about to sniff some interesting places,” he joked. His eyes wandered down from her face to her V-neck tee and he said, “I think I just got my own private fireworks show. Thanks, Skater.”

Mackenzie slapped her hand to the loose cotton fabric, closing the gap, destroying his view. Her face burned. “Frankie's right. You are a total asshole, Charlie. Don't talk to me anymore,” Mackenzie hissed, and lay down on her towel. Despite his attempt to humiliate her, she felt good. All this time she thought of herself as strong, but pretending everything away wasn't a show of strength. If her back was turned because she was running in the other direction, she wasn't facing her problems, and the only way to get past them, she was sure now, was to deal—head on.

That might not have been the first time he trashed her, but it's going to be the last,
Mac thought.
Fuck that victim shit.

The first explosions blossomed in the sky, but Mac was barely aware of the show. Her memories were creating more questions than answers.

Why did her father bother to marry Barb? More to the point, why would Barb marry
him
? They had been co-workers and friends when Mac was little, but they had never seemed like they were in love. Did they even have a relationship at all? They must've at some point, though, since they managed to conceive The Brat.

She's going to love that present I got her for keeping quiet. But I have to remember to get something for her birthday, too.
She smiled, thinking about how Barb always teased Lily that she was always in a rush, even to join the world early by two whole months.

It was hard to believe she was already going to be six. Mac remembered making Lily's baby blanket on her mother's old sewing machine and wrapping it around her the day she was born. Lily still carried that ratty old thing with her everywhere. Mac wondered if she'd have to leave it at home when it was time to go to kindergarten.

Wait—
six
?
Mackenzie tapped her fingers on the dock, counting the months from the wedding.

I am such an idiot
… the rushed plan to wed, Lily's “early” birth … Barb had gotten pregnant, and
that's
when her father decided to actually do the right thing?

Poor Barb. She could've done a lot better than Stan. Mac could see how a guy would think Barb was attractive, even though she was pretty old. Not standard beautiful;
cute
was more like it. Almost boyish, fitting into those kid-sized clothes. When she bought Mac those bras, it was embarrassing, but Barb had tried to make her feel more comfortable, making lame jokes about how Mackenzie should be happy she didn't take after
her
.

Barb was pretty small up top
,
Mac thought,
so Lily might grow up to be the same.