Who is Mackie Spence? (12 page)

On Friday, Erica sits next to me during lunch while I wait for Mackie and says, “Mackie's really excited about the dance.”

I feel my heartbeat pick up.

“Yeah, well, I am the Dance Master,” I tell her, making an effort to look casual, but serious.

She crosses her eyes at me, and we both laugh.

“Yeah, I'm happy she asked me to the dance,” I add.

Of course there's more to it. The thing I like most about being with Mackie is that when we're alone she likes to hold hands, kiss, and cuddle. But, at school or with our friends, she's cool. There isn't any big show. Some girls get all over guys. Not Mackie. She might put a little flirt on, but she doesn't do anything just to get attention.

Because it's Friday we don't have practice, so there's plenty of time after school to kick back at the house before Jon and Erica pick me up for Sadie One. I've been looking forward to it because, though I'm not the world's greatest dancer, Mackie picked me to go with her. That's enough.

After dinner I change into pretty much what I might wear for school: a pair of dark jeans and an olive-green and black plaid shirt left unbuttoned over a red T-shirt. I'll carry my rain jacket because the air has a heaviness that promises a change of weather.

As I jog back downstairs, Mom stands in the front door hallway. She raises her fists in her mom's victory salute when she sees me. “Jeremy you look so nice. Those colors are perfect on you,” she nods, giving me a quick hug.

“I don't have anything that looks fifties. It's okay, I guess.”

“Nolan,” Mom calls to Dad, who is in the front room, “Jeremy's leaving.”

Dad walks out with Justin, who stares like he's trying to figure out what all the fuss is about.

“Ah, who's driving tonight?” Dad asks. I've gone over this with Mom, but not Dad. He and Justin have been playing chess, their game most Friday nights.

“Jon. We'll be with Erica and Jon. After the dance we're going to Mackie's. Wes and Angela, too. Mr. and Mrs. Spence know about it.”

“All right. Call us if something happens and you need a ride,” Dad says, turning. He wants to get back to the game board.

“Two more things,” Mom says as I head toward the vestibule door to wait on the porch. “You probably won't think this is important, but I bought a silk flower on campus for you to give to Mackie.” She holds out a lavender flower with a dusting of gold glitter in the middle. “She can wear this in her hair. See, it has a clip. Also, you don't have to be back until midnight, or whenever Caitlin and Nick decide it's time for you kids to go home. I hope you have a lot of fun.”

I hug her.

“Thanks, Mom,” I say, handling the flower carefully. “I mean it, thanks. I didn't know I was supposed to get her something.”

“Well, now you know. If she doesn't want to wear it, that's not a problem. It's the thought of the gift that counts.”

Right. I need to start thinking more.

At seven-fifteen, Jon and Erica pull down our driveway. I leap off the front porch steps to meet them. The dance is scheduled from seven thirty to ten o'clock and we still have to pick Mackie up.

Erica greets me first. “Hey Jer, are you ready to twist and shout?” she asks, flipping her twin pigtails back and forth.

“Isn't that from the sixties?” I reply, opening the back door of Jon's vintage Volkswagen Jetta.

“Oh poo!” Erica mutters. “Who cares? It's going to be jumping and jiving tonight,” she sings.

“This is what I've had to deal with today,” Jon says, as he puts the car in drive and we quickly cross the distance to Mackie's house. But I know Jon. He's totally crushing on Erica. Maybe that's how I act around Mackie, too.

As Jon and Erica wait, I climb out of the car and walk to the Spences' front door. Two weeks ago, I would have waited with Jon and Erica for Mackie to come out. Now things are different. When I tap the doorknocker, Mac opens the door right away. I smile big.

Mackie is beautiful!
She has on a tan, black, and ivory leopard print sweater with a small pearl necklace, and tight black jeans that made her legs look really long. Her hair is pulled in a high ponytail at the back of her head. It makes her doe-like eyes look even bigger. Mac's mom and dad watch us just behind her. Noelle prances at their side.

“Hello, Jeremy. Oh, that's lovely,” Mrs. Spence says as I silently hand Mackie the lavender flower.

“Hi, Mrs. Spence, Mr. Spence,” I reply, smiling at them and trying to avoid looking at Noelle. I do not want to trigger a Suffering Southern Belle scene.

“Mackie, my mom found this flower on campus for me to give to you. You can put it in your hair if you want,” I explain, trying to sound like I know what I'm talking about.

“Thank you! It's like a fairytale flower,” Mackie says. Mrs. Spence motions for me to step inside as Mackie leaves the room with the flower.

Meanwhile, Noelle eyes me like she might have something to say. I try not to make contact with her. It's tough, though, avoiding the extraterrestrial in the room.

Mackie returns, and I notice she's added the flower to the top of her ponytail. The sparkles glitter against her dark hair.

Then, with her parents calling after us, “Have fun!” we walk out the front door, and join Jon and Erica in the car. Erica has moved to the back seat to talk with Mackie. My legs thank her.

“Ooh, I like your hair!” Erica says.

“Jeremy gave me this flower,” Mackie replies, touching the back of her ponytail and giving me more credit than I deserve.

“Jon gave me a wrist corsage, but I was afraid it would get crushed when we dance, so I put it in some water at home,” Erica says.

I look at Jon, and we both roll our eyes at their girl talk. But we listen.

At school, we cram our jackets and shoes into Jon's locker, since it's the closest to the gym. Mom told me this kind of dance was dubbed a “Sock Hop” because in the 1950s, wooden gym floors weren't varnished. They damaged easily, so everyone danced without shoes, in their socks. We will do the same to carry on the tradition.

Entering the gym, I'm shocked to see so many people. This is a much bigger dance than last year's Sadie Two disco dance. The Dance Club is already demonstrating steps, so we find places to sit on an upper bleacher.

The music is DJ'ed and loud. In between songs, Mr. McDowell, the Dance Club's faculty advisor, explains the dance steps. They don't look that difficult, and I begin looking around to see who else is in the stands. I catch sight of Wes and Angela sitting with some other juniors near us. Wes sees me and waves.

Mackie links her arm in mine and we rock in our seats with the music. After about fifteen minutes of instruction, the Dance Club invites everyone onto the floor. We stand up at once and head down the steps, the sound muffled by the socks on our feet.

“Get ready to rock 'n' roll, because we have ‘Rock Around the Clock' by Bill Haley and the Comets, ‘Peggy Sue' by Buddy Holly, and ‘At the Hop' by Danny and the Juniors,” Mr. McDowell announces.

When the music starts, the beat comes fast. Most people just free style. So do I, and have to keep myself from knocking into people dancing around me. After a while I don't worry too much, because it's impossible. People keep bumping into me. But I try to keep Mackie safe.

“Jer, just do what I do, but in reverse,” Mac suggests after we mash out some steps that aren't even close to being together. “Left foot, then step again with your left foot. Now your right foot, then step again with your right foot. Then go backwards with your left foot. That's it!”

“Right,” I say, not sure of much of anything.

Mackie gasps in surprise when I spin her under my arm.

“You've been practicing!” She smiles.

What practicing?
I try to look mysterious. But Mackie looks happy and that's what matters. That, and the handholding.

At the end of the third song, Mr. McDowell picks up the mic again.

“Now it's time for a line dance. The Dance Club showed you this earlier. Please form two lines about six feet apart and, when you finish, stay at the end of the line and the next dancer will dance down, and so on. Okay, ready to go? This song is called ‘The Stroll' by the Diamonds.”

Mackie and I face each other with Jon and Erica and six people I don't know. The beat is slow, like you could actually walk to the music. Those who can't, dance free style, so I don't feel too weird when it's my turn. But most of the girls and two of the guys in our line can really dance. Mackie walks between our two lines with her eyes half closed, syncing to the music and snapping her fingers. The rest of the room may as well be empty. She is all I see.

After the line dance there are three more fast songs and then it's time for another workshop from the Dance Club, who demonstrate 1950s slow dance steps.

“Jer, let's try this,” Mackie urges.

“Okay. Just know that I'm sorry when I step on your feet.”

Mackie sends me a terrified look and we both laugh as we begin dancing 1-2-3-4, making a box with our feet. Holding Mackie's hand and guiding her with my other hand on her waist is new for me. And she rests her left hand on my shoulder. We'd never danced together like that before.

After the workshop, ‘Come with Me' by the Del-Vikings plays. Sure, the song has sappy lyrics, but that doesn't matter. I breathe in the vanilla-orange of Mackie's hair, and she moves with me like we've danced together forever. Somehow, I avoid stepping all over her feet.

I twirl her a couple of times, slowly, watching as her eyes light up, and she wriggles her hips. Then she tries to twirl me. That cracks us up, and we dance the last steps laughing.

Right after the tune ends, Mr. McDowell announces three fast songs. The only one I know is ‘Kansas City' by Wilbert Harrison, a blues-rock classic covered by lots of bands. It's definitely a crowd pleaser. Just about everyone gets on the floor to jam.

Halfway through Sadie One, we have a fifteen-minute break in dancing. As music continues to play on the sound system, Mackie and I see a wave of our friends led by Wes, Angela, Jon, and Erica.

The girls want to use the restroom, which means they'll be gone for all of the fifteen minutes. So I head with the guys to the end of the gym where tables are topped by soft drinks and fruit-flavored sparkling water. My throat and lips feel dry. Not as bad as when I run, but close. Red, blue, and black 1950s toy cars, big sets of dice, and a flowered tablecloth decorate the beverage table. Pink, green, and gold Japanese paper lanterns twirl slowly under the overhead lights.

Jilly stands nearby with a pack of sophomores. She doesn't look happy and keeps searching around the big room. I don't see Brody.

“Jeremy,” Wes jolts me out from my fog. “You and Mac look good out there. What's up with that?” he teases me.

“Oh, she's okay,” I say. The guys look at me like I've gone mental. Then I smile and slap my forehead. “Dancing with Mackie is . . . better than just about anything.”

“Nice,” Wes agrees, nodding in approval.

Near the end of the break, Erica and Angela sock-skate back to us.
Where is Mackie?
Erica sees the question on my face and aims directly for me, getting so close I can hear her breathing.

“Brody's with Mackie. He looks kind of wild,” she blurts.

“Where?” I ask, my body tensing.

“By the Chem labs.” Erica looks like she will go for Mackie if I don't.

I try to get out of the room as fast as I can, pushing against the crowd returning to the gym. What is going on between Brody and Mackie?

Once I clear the double doors, I dodge a group of girls and sprint down a side hallway. There, under long panels of dimmed overhead lighting, I see them. Brody's hands are on the wall behind Mackie as he leans in. Mackie catches my movement out of the corner of her eye and holds up a hand for me to stop.

I don't. When I'm ten paces from them she says, “Give us a minute, Jer. I want to make sure Brody and I are clear about something.”

She says it so charmingly, and with a shake of her head like this is just another time she has to make something plain to that silly Brody. I wonder if she might really have things under control.

Then Brody leans in closer. I'm not going anywhere.

“I'd rethink that, Brody,” I growl.

He turns to look at me like I'm just coming into focus for him.

“We're done when I say we are,” he says to me, or maybe to Mackie. Then he stands up straight, and steps away from her with a shitty grin.

“Think about what I said,” Mackie says to him.

Brody shrugs. “This isn't over.”

“Don't think I won't do it,” Mackie counters.

What is going on? What does Mackie mean?

Brody turns, sneers at me, and stomps off. Mackie falls back against the wall and closes her eyes.

In a second I'm next to her. She starts to shake.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. Jeremy, I don't want you to go after Brody. He's my problem, and I need to handle it. I'm serious. It would kill me if he hurt you again, because of me. Let's go back to the gym. I'll tell you what happened, but right now I just want to get out of here.”

She looks rattled.

I put my arm around her waist and she does the same with me. We walk back to the dance. A fast song is playing, but I don't feel like dancing. I lead Mackie to the closest stand of bleachers. We climb up to the third row and sit.

Mackie hugs her knees with her arms, looks out into the crowd of dancers, and takes a big breath. “It's like he's obsessed,” she says. “I told him if he doesn't leave me alone, I'll go to his parents. His mother knows I wouldn't make this up.” She pauses and bites her lower lip. Then she turns her eyes to mine. “I told him his fight is with me, not you,” she says.