Dancing With the Devil (9 page)

By the time Mac was dressed and in the car, she'd had enough coffee to motor down the Amazon and collect her own beans. She touched Barb's arm as she took a turn. “Please,” Mackenzie whispered, “just a little slower around the curves.”

As they pulled into the school parking lot, they could see they were the last to arrive. Mac heaved herself out of the car and stood, holding onto the door for support. “Barb?”

“Hmmm?”

“How long is everything going to stay all spinny?”

“Still? Oh, honey, how much did you drink?” Barb took the pack out of the trunk and handed it to Mac, who started toward the bus. Lily bounced along next to her big sister, elbows sticking out at right angles as she held both hands in an airtight grip over her mouth. Mackenzie had promised her an extra special surprise present when she got back from the trip if she stopped talking, since Lily's inside voice exceeded everyone else's outside-at-a-football-game volume.

Lily started making muffled squealing noises and ran off, and Mac turned to see their father walking toward Barb.

Most of the parents were there hovering and giving last minute advice while kids loaded their packs under the bus and bikes onto the trailer behind the van.

Mackenzie slipped her pack off and bent over to set it on the pile under the bus, making sure not to move too quickly. Then a sound pierced her eardrums, giving her the distinct impression that her head had exploded.

“Oh, oops, sorry, Mac. Didn't mean to whistle that loud, but when you bend over like that, it's hard to resist,” Charlie said. “Guess you had a rough night, huh?”

Mackenzie lifted her hands to her head and was surprised to find it still in one piece. “You were there?” she croaked.

Charlie raised his eyebrows and whistled again, sending another piercing pain straight through Mac's brain from one ear to the other.

“Where's your bike?”

“Trailered,” Mackenzie said. “In a hard pack.”

“Oh, I wondered if you'd put that fine piece of machinery in the rack.” Charlie said. “Remember, if you get sick of riding that baby, I'm at your service…”

Mackenzie grunted and waved him off. Her head thrummed, and she felt like there were little needles sticking into it from all angles. Even though she wore sunglasses, she squinted and concentrated hard on getting from point A to point B without having to turn her head too fast. She had no idea how she was going to survive a noisy bus full of excited Bike Geeks.

Barb was talking to MaToya. Mackenzie hobbled over and waited as they finished up.

Ma turned to Mac and smiled. “Don't worry. It won't last forever,” she said as she walked toward Frankie and her folks.

Mac frowned and turned to Barb and whispered, “You told Ma?”

Barb walked her a few steps away, toward the car, and said, “Mackenzie, have you looked in the mirror today? I think she figured it out on her own.” She glanced back at her husband, who seemed oblivious to everything except Lily. She reached out and cupped Mac's chin in her hand. “You take care of yourself on this trip, okay? No more worries about this boy. We'll see you in six weeks, and I bet you'll have forgotten all about him by then, though I certainly hope it's a lot sooner than that!”

Mac peeked around Barb and caught snatches of the conversation between her dad and Lily. Over by the grassy median, Mac's father looked up from Lily and gave a wave. Lily looked unhappy, and Mac knew she was upset about being separated for so long. They'd never been apart for more than a night or so, and Lily had been acting up ever since Mac explained about her trip.

But the date of the dance was getting closer and that would be a good distraction for Lil. Even though Mac was sure her dad threw her dress away years before, she'd figured she'd cheer Lily up if she could actually find it so she could wear it. But after she'd gone through the top shelves of her closet and every other nook, cranny, and box, no polka dots were to be found.

Like a tugboat steering an ocean liner, Lily took her father's hand and dragged him to where Mackenzie stood. Watching them approach, she felt that familiar irritation and finally accepted the fact that maybe she actually
was
jealous. Not of Lily taking her father's attention, though. She snorted when she realized she was jealous of her
father
taking Lily's affection away from
her
.

Lily dropped her father's hand and stood back, staring at the ground. Mac could tell she was trying to put off saying her goodbyes. Stan patted Mac's back and mumbled something about having a good time and climbed into the passenger seat of Barb's car.

Mackenzie kept reminding herself that this trip wouldn't come between her and Lily. After all, she was the one who took care of her sister. Protected her from the bully down the street and the monsters under her bed. When Lily ran to her when nightmares chased, Mackenzie was the one who curled around her little sister like a cocoon.

Mac crouched down, opened her arms, and waited until Lily finally sailed into them, burying her head in Mackenzie's shoulder. Mac whispered, “What kind of kiss?”

Lily pinched her lips together with her fingers and shook her head. She refused to look into Mac's eyes.

“What do you mean, no kiss? Of course we need a kiss! Okay, Lilybean. I'll tell you. I'm going to give you a six-week kiss. Do you know what a six-week kiss is?” Lily shook her head again, her eyes still on the ground. “It's a kiss that lasts six whole weeks.” Mackenzie gently kissed Lily's left cheek, barely dusting it with her lips.

Lily turned away and walked to the car and leaned against the door, still stubbornly examining the dirt at her feet.

Barb hugged her and started to turn toward the car, but Mackenzie realized she needed to tell Barb one last thing.

“What is it, honey? Did you forget something?” Barb asked, motioning to Lily that she'd be right there. Stan called to Lily to climb into her car seat.

“Yes,” Mac said, glancing at the car to make sure her father couldn't hear them. “I forgot to say thanks.” She lifted her eyes to meet Barb's.

“Don't be silly. What are mothers for?” Barb waved her off and started to go to the car. Mac followed.

“No, seriously. Thanks for helping me this morning, and for not grounding me, and…” she looked into the car where her father was talking to Lily “… for not telling Dad.”

“Well, your dad has a tendency to be a bit overprotective when it comes to you,” Barb said.

Mac frowned. “Overprotective isn't what I'd call it.”

“Oh yes,” Barb insisted. “I remember when your mom passed away. He was a wreck, he was so worried over you. If he had to work nights, and I was babysitting, he'd always come home first to make sure everything was all set before going back to the office.”

“Geez, Barb, I don't even remember you sitting for me,” Mac said, feeling the same
Twilight Zone
thing she had when looking at her picture at the dance on her father's computer.

“Well, you were usually put to bed before I got there. He was so afraid I'd let you drown in the bathtub or not know how to give you the exact right kind of cuddle before tucking you in that he made sure all that was done before he left.”

“He wouldn't
let
you do that stuff?”

Barb chewed on her bottom lip. “Well, I don't know if I'd go that far. He felt guilty, I think. You'd lost your mom, and he probably thought he was the only one able to care for you and love you the right way.”

Mac said, “Well, you're right about that.”

“See? I knew it.”

But she didn't see. She didn't understand what Mackenzie meant; how could she? Something else was nagging at the back of Mac's brain, but it was like dropping a ball under a dresser and stretching, stretching for it, but it was just beyond arm's length. And then, once your fingertips finally made contact, it inched away even further. Mac couldn't get her mind to make contact with this idea and it just kept rolling away, out of reach.

“You have a great trip, and we'll see you when you get home.”

Lily knocked on the window. Barb made the “okay” sign with her finger and thumb and waited while Mac opened the door and kissed Lily on her hands. Lily finally looked at Mackenzie and threw her arms around her neck.

“That's a new kiss, huh, Lilybean? A finger kiss, we'll call it,” Mac told her. Then she promised she would write her real letters so when she checked the mailbox there would be mail waiting for her. When she stood up and closed the door, Barb pulled Mac close for a goodbye hug, taking her by surprise. She patted her back then, without another word, drove off. Lily opened the window and waved goodbye with both hands, still keeping her quiet promise.

“You okay?”

Mac turned to find Frankie and Dante by her side. “Oh yeah, I just caught a bit of dust,” she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“I think she meant are you okay after last night?” Dante said, and shot a smile at Frankie.

“Oh, right,” Mackenzie said, rubbing her temple. “Thanks for everything—Barb told me you guys brought me home. I have no recollection of anything after coming downstairs. Did the place get cleaned up, D?”

“Yeah, but I still made Charlie give me money for a cleaning service. My neighbor'll let them in later today.” Dante fished around in his pocket and pulled out a little cellophane package.

When she saw what he was holding, Mackenzie smiled. “Oh, man, Dante. You're saving me again! Right now, earplugs are the best gift you could give me.”

By the time all the parents had driven off, the gear loaded, and the bikes secured, Mac was feeling a little better. Excitement ricocheted through the bus. Even the driver was happy to go, and let out a holler as they pulled out of the lot. And Otis, following in the van, started honking like crazy.

As they got onto the highway, Charlie turned around in his seat and kneeled, hanging over the high back in order to face Mac. “So, you seem like you recovered pretty fast,” he said, wearing his usual smirk.

“Why, thank you, Charlie. I have,” Mackenzie said, smiling, determined not to let him ruin the first moments of her long-anticipated trip. She scooched down in her seat, folded her arms, and shut her eyes.

But Charlie didn't let that spoil his fun. “Really? I would've thought finding out that the love of your life is doing his old girlfriend—uh, I mean, new
sister
—would give you the freaks. Hmmm. Guess I was wrong.”

Mackenzie didn't move. Or blink. Or breathe. She refused to respond to Charlie. From behind closed eyes, Mackenzie was replaying everything that happened the night before, the memories now as clear as if she were watching TV. She saw Grady and Sophie walk in, Grady's hand resting on her shoulder as though he possessed her. Then it slipped down to her waist and below.

Mac squeezed her eyes tighter, but the vision of the two of them walking past wouldn't fade. She realized she was still holding the earplugs and put them in. Through them she could hear muffled talking and laughter and the excited murmuring of the kids settling down for the long ride. She concentrated on the muted sounds, willing the painful vision to fade.

She took out her old flying bicycle and pedaled higher and higher into the sky until she floated away, safe. Finally, Mackenzie took a deep breath and fell asleep.

But she was back at the party, standing on the stairs, looking at Dante's front door. Everyone was there, and she and Frankie were laughing. She wanted to leave, but there were too many people and she couldn't move. Someone handed her a red plastic cup overflowing with bubble bath. She looked in the cup, and then at the person who gave it to her. It was Barb.

“I wish I could help you, Mackenzie, but it's not like I'm your
real
mom,” she said, and melted into the crowd.

Mac looked at the door, and in walked her father. He had a little girl in his arms, and at first, Mackenzie thought it was Lily, her hands still covering her mouth. But she was wearing a dress with ruffled sleeves and big pink and red polka dots, and Mac realized she was looking at herself.

An old song started to play and people began dancing. She watched her hands fly from her mouth to cover her ears as she shook her head. Mackenzie couldn't understand why she was so upset. She strained to hear the song, but it was muted, as though honey filled her ears. Just as Mac realized what it was, the music started stuttering and someone threw a mirror against the wall, shattering it. A large shard flew by in slow motion, and Mackenzie thought she got a glimpse of her reflection, but it was Lily staring back at her.

Her dad walked past the stairs, still carrying her young self, and Mac could see his hand slip from her shoulder, but she couldn't tell where it had gone. Something moved under the dress. One of the red polka dots pulsed and grew and began dripping onto the floor, staining the carpet a bright scarlet. Her little hands remained over her ears, but she began singing, “Fly away, fly away!” over and over.

Mackenzie's hands flew up to grab herself away from Stan, and she jolted awake with a gasp. She looked around, but it was a moment before realizing she was on the bus headed toward Providence. She closed her eyes again, but the dream haunted her thoughts.
Better to let it disintegrate the way dreams do
, Mac thought, and refocused her attention to the trip. She opened her eyes.

“How long was I out?” she asked Frankie, who was examining a map draped over her lap.

“The whole time,” Frankie said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Mac said, and shuddered. “I had a weird dream. I've already forgotten it, though. Wait a sec—the whole time? You mean we're almost there?” Mac looked out the window and slipped her sunglasses onto the top of her head. She was relieved the throbbing pain was almost all gone, and the sun didn't hurt her eyes anymore. “What's the plan?”

Frankie folded the map and gazed out the window over Mac's shoulder. “Everyone's splitting up after we dump our stuff at the hostel. Some are going to a place near the Dunkin' Donuts Center and—”

Charlie flipped around in his seat and leaned over the back. “What do you mean, the Dunkin' Donuts Center? I am so there!”

Frankie shoved his seat and said, “You are such a moron. It's not like they make the donuts there, if that's what you're thinking.”

“Maybe they have lots of prototypes for people to vote on,” Charlie said.

Frankie turned to Mackenzie and said, “What's that stupid rule that says we have to admit anyone and everyone into the Bike Geeks? Think we can get it changed for next year?”

Charlie whimpered, following it up with a rude hand gesture before turning around again.

Soon the bus was pulling into a parking area, and the driver was hollering for everyone to get off and get out. Mac, Frankie, and Dante stepped down and, after grabbing their packs, got their bikes and walked around to the back of the hostel.

Mac tried to focus on the chatter, but the creepy feeling she'd gotten from the dream wasn't going away, and she was missing Lily, and it's not like Grady was totally out of her thoughts, especially after seeing them last night.

I thought you weren't supposed to remember stuff after a night of drinking?

Ma was already talking to the hostel manager, who had been in the middle of planting yellow, purple and scarlet pansies in the white boxes that sat under every window in the building. She was going on about the history of the place, and Ma smiled at Mac and shrugged her shoulders as she passed. As soon as the girls locked their bikes up in the garage, they found the girls' dorm.

Mac hopped up onto a top bunk, and Frankie took the bottom and, as though choreographed, they flung themselves down onto the mattresses and sighed in unison.

“This trip is going to be so awesome,” Frankie said. She bent her knees and put her feet on the springs of the bed above her and bounced a little. She pulled an old iPod out of her pocket and started scrolling through her playlists.

“Hey,” Mac said, “you weren't supposed to bring that!”

“Yeah, I took my brother's. It's from, like, the year after they came out or something. In case I lose it. Jealous?” Frankie smiled and continued to scroll, the light clickety-clicks audible in the cavernous room. She threw her head back and groaned. “I forgot to update the songs. Do you have any idea how bad his taste is? He likes
oldies
.”

Mac snorted. “Oh, yeah. I'm so jealous of your oldies.
Beyond.
”

“Well, at least it's something.”

“But how're you going to charge it?
And
keep it from MaToya?”

“I found this rippin' battery pack online. It's got, like, fifteen hours of charge time in it.”

“That won't last long,” Mac said. Frankie dug into her pack on the floor and pulled out a couple of spares. “I'm like a Boy Scout. I come prepared.”

Mac chuckled. “Well, at least Ma said nothing about battery packs.”

Frankie clicked her teeth and shot Mackenzie with her thumb and forefinger. “You got it, sistah!”

After a day of sightseeing, everyone was ready to eat an early dinner and hit the sack. MaToya and Otis had put together a chore schedule, and the first night's chefs were Dante and Charlie. They were hard at work when everyone else came into the dining area. Frankie and Mac started to set the table with the hostel's flatware, and MaToya and a couple of the other kids got out glasses and beverages.

“What did you get to drink, O?” Charlie asked over his shoulder as he chopped carrots for a salad.

“We have juices, regular milk, soymilk—the vanilla kind—and water,” Otis replied, getting the drinks out.

“What? No soda?” Charlie sounded personally insulted.

“That stuff is poison, Charlie,” Ma said, pouring a glass of soymilk. “You're going to need every cell in your body working at max capacity. No way it's going to do that fueled on soda.”

“There's some chocolate syrup on the common shelf in the fridge if you want to add that,” Frankie suggested. The girls had decided they were going to kill Charlie with kindness, since they were all stuck on this trip together, like it or not.

“Yuck” was all he said in response.

The dinner conversation lingered over the route for the next day. They were slurping up spaghetti and meatballs, which reminded Mackenzie of home. She was surprised to feel a sudden pang of homesickness shiver through her, especially since it was Barb she was thinking about.

Mackenzie was trying to consider her more in “mother mode” and even though it was a foreign feeling, it wasn't a bad one. In fact, she could feel the knots in her shoulders relax whenever she considered a mother-daughter type relationship with Barb. It would be nice to have someone on her side, for once. Not that Barb stood a chance, because when it came to any discussion about Mackenzie, Stan did the talking.

According to her father, Barb couldn't even enter the parenting competition, because she was simply not in the running. He'd even once told his wife, “You're not on our team.” Mac grimaced, remembering all the times he'd put an end to any conversation by cutting Barb off, interrupting her, or just walking out of the room.

What Barb had said in her dream came back. “I'm not your real mom.” Had Stan ever even allowed her to feel like her mom?

Mackenzie pushed a strand of pasta around her plate with her chopsticks, making a spaghetti nest for her meatball. A memory popped into her head, something she'd forgotten until now. It was a couple of months after the wedding, the same day as the allowance coup.

Barb had been showing Mackenzie how to make her secret recipe meatballs, and Mac was really enjoying the lesson. They were elbow deep in chopped meat, smushing together diced garlic and onions and laughing over gross-out jokes. When Barb's hand accidentally brushed Mac's in the bowl, she'd intertwined their burger-covered fingers and said, “You know, anytime you're ready, you can call me ‘Mom.'”

Stan had come in and said to Barb, “Why are you wasting your time teaching her that crap? She's been making my dinner for years.”

Barb had stopped, looked at Mackenzie, and said, “You already know how to cook?”

At the time, Mac thought Barb had looked hurt, like she had been tricked. But now, remembering Barb was sort of offering to be her mom at that exact moment, Mac wondered if that look could've been one of disappointment. After all, they'd been in the middle of a mother-daughter type activity, and it had been ruined since Mac didn't really need it. Or perhaps Barb felt bad that she had taken over as family chef without considering Mac might've liked doing it. If only Barb had known how relieved Mackenzie was to have someone else take over the job of Wife.

But at the time, Mac thought she'd hurt Barb and couldn't bring herself to call her
anything
for the first six months they lived as a family. Then Lily came along, and Mac felt even less like Barb's daughter once she had a real one of her own, and that was the end of it.

“So, what about it, Mac?” Charlie was asking.

“What? I missed that. Sorry.”

“Can I just take one little test drive? I swear I'll be careful,” he said. He actually sounded sincere. Mac was surprised he was aware that tone existed.

“Look, Charlie, I just got it—”

Charlie cut her off. “Fine. Never mind. I just wanted to take it up the street and back, for Christ's sake.”

“Look, I'm sorry, but—”

“Forget about it,” he said, and got up to start cleaning the dinner mess. He banged the pots and pans around like an angry toddler, making way more noise than necessary.

Dante got up to clear the table. “For a guy who's been nothing but nasty to her since forever, I'm surprised you have the nerve to even ask that question.” Their backs were to the group, but the water gushing from the faucet did nothing to mask their conversation. The kitchen was part of the open dining area, and Frankie and Mac sat at the table finishing their meals.

“How could I resist? Have you seen that ride? Soooo sweet.”

Dante dried the skillet Charlie passed to him. “You know nothing about sweet. How about ‘you catch more flies with honey'?”

“You calling me honey, honey?” Charlie batted his eyes and handed Dante another pot to dry.

Mac and Frankie looked at each other and sighed.

“I'm telling you to be sweet to Mac, and you'll have a better chance of getting a ride on that bike,” Dante said.

“Why are you trying to help me?”

Frankie leaned back and looked over her shoulder. “Maybe he's not,” she said. “Maybe he's trying to help Mackenzie by getting you off her back.”

Dante sighed. “Never mind. I don't know what I was thinking. I must've forgotten who I was talking to.” Charlie kissed the air, and Dante left him, signaling to the girls that he was done trying to help, and letting Charlie finish cleaning up alone.

As scheduled, everyone met in the common room after dinner, bringing mugs of tea and coffee. They gathered in a circle with Otis behind them, perched on a worktable in the corner. Frankie draped herself over the arm of a scruffy overstuffed armchair, and Dante flopped into the seat and slumped spread eagle.

“Uch! I am going to have such dishpan hands, I tell you,” he announced.

“Drama queen. I'm the one who washed everything—you only dried,” said Charlie.

“Don't worry, boys,” Frankie told them, “I have a lovely gardenia-scented skin cream, and if you're both really, really nice, I'll let you have a little dab.”

When MaToya brought out a large platter of her famous homemade chocolate chip cookies, everyone leaned forward and grabbed a few. Once they were busy munching, she said, “I know you're excited about starting tomorrow, but I want you to get a good night's rest. We're starting small, going only about fifty miles on average for the next three days, so with your training, it should be a piece of cake.” Indignant calls of “We're not wussies!” rang out, and Ma had to tamp down the air with her hands until all was quiet again. “We're not going far, and even though it won't be as hilly as later, we're going to be cookin' it. Wheels up at six a.m.”

MaToya said, “And if we're on the road by six o'clock, I'm getting the girls up at five, and O will wake the guys. Get dressed, get the gear on the van, and eat. Then we leave, got it?” Ma looked at Mac and said, “Okay, prez, your turn.”