Dancing With the Devil (10 page)

“Yes,” Mackenzie said, standing. “I have one last announcement. Tomorrow Ma will lead, and I'll bring up the rear for our first day. Frankie, you'll partner with me, so don't get too far ahead. You'll need to circle back if you do, and I know they'd rather that didn't happen.” She thumbed over to Otis and Ma. “We'll alternate daily, like I told you before. Remember what we said at the last meeting: we stick together, and no one takes any detours. See you bright and early!”

After everyone stopped groaning about the ungodly wake-up time, they went up to their dorms and hit the sack early.

The next morning, as they were all strapping on helmets and clipping in, Otis started the van and rolled down the window. “Ma, considering we have a load of sleep-deprived teenagers here, I think you can consider yourself on schedule. I'll see you at the break,” he called and, waving goodbye out the window, pulled away.

MaToya looked at her watch and winced. She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled an ear-piercing shriek. “People! It's six twenty! We are
out of here
!”

Mac hollered, “And remember, shiny side up, rubber side down—no wipeouts on our first day!”

Charlie was balancing on his bike just behind Frankie and Mackenzie. He watched as Mac balanced on the RC, one foot on the ground to steady herself, and she adjusted her helmet. “Hey, Skater,” he said, eyeing her. “Good thing you're bringing up the
rear
, since you have such a nice ass.”

Frankie rolled her eyes and yelled, as she pushed off, “You should bring up the rear because you
are
an ass!”

Mackenzie was dying to put on some speed, but she was the anchor and knew Ma was counting on her. If anyone fell or got a flat, she'd need to be there. She could see Frankie up in the distance, not too far off.

Mac got into her zone, pedaling to the rhythm of the wheels on the pavement, the ruts in the road, and the cars going by. The bike felt like air underneath her. Or, rather, like it was part of her. Even if she wasn't going full tilt, she was flying, connected to the earth by a thin strip of rubber, a well-oiled machine, and her power. She was stronger physically than she'd ever been. Now if she could only get as strong mentally, maybe she'd be able to stop thinking about Grady. Her mind kept going back to him. Back to them. It was like picking a scab—painful, yet impossible to resist.

How could he sleep with Sophie? She was almost family, even if they didn't grow up together. By law Sophie would be his sister. Psychologically, it
was
family.

Mackenzie shuddered so hard her front tire wobbled. She struggled to regain her balance, positive she was about to do a major face-plant. For a split second, Mac was sure she had narrowly escaped injury. She knew she was wrong as soon as she and her bike parted ways.

As she rolled across the pavement she thought,
Wow, I'm glad we did that Take a Dive Day.
Instead of instinctively guarding against the fall with her hands and then breaking a wrist or two, she tucked and rolled, just like the Geeks had practiced. Mackenzie reached for the whistle around her neck and blew hard to signal Frankie that she'd fallen. She pulled a couple of pebbles out of her shoulder, which seemed to have taken the worst of the hit.

Mackenzie sat on the edge of the road examining her injuries. As she watched fat droplets of blood ooze from her knee, Mac finally connected with the idea that had rolled under the bureau into the darkness beyond her grasp; all her turmoil had nothing to do with Grady. Or Sophie. Or the two of them as a couple.

Mackenzie couldn't remember when it started, but she must've been little because every time her father placed his gigantic, hairy hand over hers, it disappeared. She'd thought,
I want the rest of me to disappear, too.
Mac cried and tried to push him off her. He'd said no one could love her like he did and that they were the only two members of a special club. It's what he always told her. He'd flicked her little hand away as though he were brushing a gnat off his sleeve. They were alone now. Just the two of them against the world. No one would understand what a special love they had, he cooed. It was only for the two of them: him and his princess.

Mackenzie always knew she wasn't strong enough to stop him. But sometime early on, she also realized the one thing he couldn't control was her mind. That's when she learned to peddle off into the sky on her flying bicycle. She got so good at pretending it was almost as though she wasn't even in the bed with him. More like she was watching someone else.

He stopped saying that stuff about their private club after a while. He didn't need to calm her anymore, because she wasn't there. She was flying away.

In fact, throughout her life, Mackenzie had become very good at not paying attention to anything about the subject. She banished it from her mind, and she'd managed to avoid all that crap on TV about kids getting touched or abused, or raped. It wasn't easy, since all the crime dramas did some sick episode on child porn, every “serious” news magazine did a series where they caught pedophiles, and what seemed like each morning, the news-ertainment shows had a panel of expert doctors with solemn faces explaining how parents could keep their kids safe.

But what if the parent being warned was the one who was endangering the kid? What if you did that stuff but convinced yourself you weren't doing anything wrong? Her dad acted like nothing had ever happened. It made her feel like she'd imagined it all. And she went along with it by becoming very good at ignoring anything unpleasant.

So was it really
her
fault? All those years—could they have been avoided if she had done something about it? If she hadn't gotten lost in the clouds? Maybe if
she'd
paid attention she could have made someone else pay attention? Like old Mr. B? Even now, when she didn't like what was happening, she'd just “go away,” like when Charlie made his comments, she simply wiped him off her radar. What if getting strong mentally could only happen if she paid attention? But it was so much easier to turn away.

“You okay?” Frankie said as she rolled up.

Mackenzie blinked a few times, coming back to the present. She hoisted herself up with help from Frankie's outstretched hand and tested her muscles, checking for any tears, or worse. “Yeah, I think I got lucky.”

Frankie winced when she saw the RoadCap lying in the grass. Mackenzie held her breath as she raised it up and took a visual inventory. “
Really lucky
,”
she said, noting nothing worse than a clump of grass in the chain.

“Someone's watching over you, dude,” Frankie said. “Youch, though, you did get some nice road rash. And your kit's torn.”

Mac looked down at her shoulder. “Yeah, but the bike's okay. I'll get some Brave Soldier on it later. Let's go catch up to everyone.”

Mackenzie tried to concentrate only on the road. Beads of sweat trickled down her back between her shoulder blades. She was achy from the fall and carefully rode hands-free to crack her knuckles. They always got sore clenching the handlebars. She leaned back down and forced her hands to relax, resting on just her palms. She stretched her neck, tucking her chin to her chest and caught sight of her legs pumping the pedals. They were strong and smoothly muscled, and she watched them churning the gears, around, around, around, and raced into the wind.

I'm here on my trip. On my bike. I have
not
disappeared.

Mac looked up in time to see Frankie dip over the rise of the next small hill. She heard snatches of her voice here and there, accompanying the songs on her smuggled contraband. Mackenzie shook her head as she considered the heat Frankie'd get if Ma caught her plugging her ears, unable to hear traffic. Even so, Mac wished she had some music to drown her thoughts.

So what if the Grady/Sophie crap brought all this back up? Hashing it over wasn't going to change anything. Besides, who cared? It was over. And done.
So
done. Was facing it going to change what had happened? No.

It all blurred together like one long nightmare. She couldn't remember the first night, second, or fiftieth, but she sure as hell remembered the last.

There'd been a lot of frenzy, what with Barb moving in, getting ready for the wedding, and everything seemed very fast and exciting. It was the day they were going dress shopping for Mac. She remembered being worried they wouldn't have enough time, since Barb had to catch a plane to Canada that afternoon in order to finish up some stuff, like shipping the last of her boxes and packing up her office there.

They'd picked a fantastic outfit, and Mac went into the dressing room to try it on. She was just about to take off her shirt when she heard the saleslady on the other side of the curtain asking Barb if her daughter had the right bra.

Barb had gotten flustered and answered, “Daughter? Oh, she's—wait,
bra
?”

Mac crossed her arms over her chest and avoiding the mirror, stared at the dressing room curtain.

“Hon,” she heard the saleslady say to Barb, “she needs a strapless bra with that dress. And she obviously can't go without.”

In the dressing room, Mackenzie felt her face get hot. She didn't move, but her gaze shifted toward the mirror.
She squinted at her reflection, not wanting to look. Opening her eyes, she saw a girl she hadn't seen, hadn't wanted to see, for a long time.

She was dressed in one of the many baggy shirts she always wore. But it wasn't as baggy as it used to be. The sleeves were suddenly too short. Her wrists peeked out the ends and the buttons puckered open.
How had she not noticed?

Mac examined herself from head to toe. Her pants were too short, her feet were like huge floppy puppy feet and her toes were scrunched into the tips of her shoes.

A bump in the road reminded Mackenzie of the fresh pain in her hands. But that was nothing compared to what she'd put up with as a kid. Why'd she put up with it? Did she think she deserved it? If she'd been more pissed off, maybe it would've stopped. She remembered never looking in the mirror when she was a kid. She didn't want to
see.
It was more of that avoidance she was so good at. But that night, the one when Barb left town, she'd made a change then, hadn't she?

They ended up buying Mackenzie a bunch of bras, including a special strapless one for the wedding. Barb kept apologizing to Mac that, what with all the pre-wedding and mid-moving flurry, she hadn't even seen how much she'd grown. They spent so much time getting her new shoes, and some jeans and tops, that by the time they got home, the taxi was there, waiting to take Barb to the airport.

She dumped their shopping bags, grabbed her suitcase, and ran to the cab. As Mackenzie stood in the door, waving goodbye, her father came to stand next to her. It was the first night since Barb had moved in that she and her father were alone. Mac had almost managed to forget about his visits, and went rigid when she felt his hand on her shoulder. He waved to Barb, too, and then they had dinner.

Later, lying in the dark, she heard the creak of her door opening. He started as he always did, touching her in one fluid movement, making it almost as though it were an accident. He stroked her hair, her neck, and down. But this time, he just kissed her on the forehead and said, “Goodnight, honey,” and left.

He never made another visit. For months, she couldn't fall asleep, waiting for her door to make that creaking sound announcing his arrival. Then Mac realized why. Once he had a wife to do that to, he didn't need her like that. Their special club was over. It wasn't necessary any more.

But just in case, Mackenzie had asked her gym teacher how a person could build big muscles.
If he came back
,
she had vowed,
I'll be strong enough to fight.

That weekend she started saving for her RoadCap.

“Who wants some GU?” Otis called out over the bodies lying in the grass around his feet. He held up a cardboard box filled with energy bars and gels. He shook the container, but it made no sound. Sighing, he tucked it under his arm and dug out a handful, waving it in the air. “C'mon, people, you need to fuel your bodies!”

Charlie said, “I'll take a couple of those bars, O.”

“You just drank a bottle of Enduro-Liquid,” Mac said. “How many times have I told you—separate your sports drinks and energy foods, and that should keep you in the right carbs-per-hour range.”

“So wait an hour before you scarf this,” Otis said, tossing a bar to Charlie. “And drink your water.”

Charlie said, “When I'm kickin' down, it's
after
I'm done and washed up that I'm ready to eat a horse. Or a cow. Maybe just a couple of burgers.”

Frankie rolled over on her side toward Dante, who was sprawled next to her on the grass. “Did you hear that, D? Charlie washes!”

Charlie flicked his finger at Frankie and turned his back. MaToya said to him, “The thing is, Charlie, when you ride at home, it's after school, or on the weekend. On this tour you're doing the long haul, and even though we have rest days built in, it's still way more than even your training sked. You need to listen to your body or you'll bonk.” She tossed him a gel packet. “Trust me on this one, Charlie. Hey, I didn't steer you wrong on the gear, and now look how stylin' you are with your matching kit … and so fine looking!”

Frankie snorted. “Considering Bike Haven is sponsoring the trip, he
had
to wear the store kit!”

“Yeah, lucky for him he found matching baggies,” Dante said.

Charlie looked over his shoulder at Dante and Frankie. “Don't you ladies have anything to talk about other than my shorts?” Turning to Mac, he said, “Hey, Skater, how's the ride?”

Mackenzie was leaning against a tree, her head back, eyes closed. She was lost in thought, mulling over the dream she'd had on the bus, and Grady, her father, and her flying bike. It'd all gotten mixed up together and swirled around her brain, weaving in and out between questions that had no answers.

“Did you say something?”

“Fine. Be that way. I was just curious.”

“No, seriously, I wasn't paying attention,” Mac said. “What did you say to me?”

Charlie sighed, trying to decide whether to attempt conversation. “I just wanted to know how the RC is on the road.”

“Forget it. We've been through this.” Mac leaned her head back on the tree and retreated into her thoughts.

“I wasn't angling, Mac. I really want to know if you feel a difference.”

Mackenzie opened her eyes and studied Charlie. She didn't trust him, but since she and Frankie had made the kindness pact, decided to answer. “The difference is huge. I feel like I'm riding on air. The only weight I'm carrying is my own. It's like … there's no metal under me, nothing to drag me down. It's like,” she paused, “it's like I'm flying.” She looked down, realizing what she was describing. Even though Charlie wouldn't know that, she blushed.

“Cool. That's so totally cool.” Charlie said, walking away.

Frankie frowned and looked at Dante and Mac. Mac shrugged and whispered, “Maybe it's working?”

Dante asked, “What's working?”

Frankie said, lowering her voice, “We're going to be so nice to him, even
he'll
notice when he starts acting assholic again and will regulate his assholicness.”

“Uh, what?” Dante asked.

Frankie scooched closer. “Mac was talking to Charlie as though he were human, and he acted exactly like a real person. Freakish.”

Soon they were on the road again, with Dante riding just in front of Mac. MaToya had mapped out a route curling around pretty back roads; they were pedaling past fields with little white farmhouses surrounded by picket fences. Charming, dilapidated barns dotted the countryside; cows soon outnumbered the few cars that passed.

They were alone on a deserted section of road, and Dante slowed down a bit, allowing Mac to catch up so they could ride side by side. The silence was punctuated only by Frankie's wild off-key yodeling along with her music. Every once and awhile, Dante rode freehand behind Frankie, his fingers plugging his ears just to make Mac laugh.

“If we're lucky, maybe those battery packs won't last her as long as she thinks,” Dante said.

After a relaxed lunch by a lake MaToya had found on her last tour, they continued, with directions to bear left when they saw a giant billboard puncturing the view. It was impossible to miss, with a gargantuan green tent painted on it and a three-foot-tall red arrow pointing in the direction of the campgrounds.

As everyone off-loaded their gear from the van and set up camp, Frankie, Mac and Dante started getting dinner together.

Frankie said, taking a big pot out of the van, “I totally blew a non-drive rear spoke today.”

Dante said, “Of course. It's always the rear wheel, right?”

“Everything cool?” Mac asked.

“Yeah, Ma's looking it over and said she'd tune me up while I'm on KP with you guys tonight. What're we making, anyway?”

They stood around the picnic table, pulling out all the staples Otis and MaToya had stocked in big plastic bins. There were dried onions and garlic, baggies filled with colorful red, yellow, and green spices and herbs, milk powder, dried fruits, vegetables, and even shrimp. There were seven different kinds of pastas, rice and wheat. And what felt like a luxury: a cooler with butter and cream, as well as a few other perishables.

Mac rubbed her hands together. “Did Otis mention any menu we're supposed to follow, or can we make whatever we want?”

Dante and Frankie looked at each other, their eyes wide. Frankie said, “Dude, if you have an idea, consider us your sous-chefs.”

“What's a Sue chef?” Dante asked. “Is that any relation to a boy named Sue?”

“You are so weird, D,” Frankie said, giving his shoulder a shove.

Mac tossed him the container of dried onions. “It's French for the people who help the head chef.”

Dante said, “Hey, check this out!” He held up the container of dried onions and pointed to the brand name on the label.

“
Mackenzie's
? What are they, your personal onions, Mac?” Frankie asked.

Mac grunted. “I think we'll have to use them just because.”

After what felt like an eternity to every starving biker who hovered and checked and questioned when dinner would be ready, a feast was served.

“C'mon, you beasts, the grub is on!” Dante yelled, while everyone rushed him and got in line.

He handed each Geek a plate and then doled out the salad. Frankie spooned big steaming piles of rice next to that, and then on down the line, Mackenzie ladled her concoction onto the rice. Finally everyone was served, and they dug in.

“I don't know if I'm starving or you are a cooking genius, but this is amazing, Mackenzie!” MaToya blurted out between groans of appreciation. Everyone “mmmed” and “yummed” their agreement through full mouths. “What is it? I don't remember buying anything that would make a meal this good.”

“It's kind of like paella. You know, the Spanish thing? Usually it has ham and chicken and seafood in it. I used some of those freeze-dried veggies you got and a chicken stock cube, bacon bits, tomato paste—”

“I didn't know you could cook like this!” Otis interrupted.

Mac shrugged. “I always made dinner before my dad remarried. Still do, lots of times. He likes his meal on the table when he gets home from work.”

Charlie looked like he was about to lick the plate clean. “If it were left to me, it'd be mac and cheese out of a box every night.” He stopped mopping up the juices with his bread and said, “Ha, get it?
Mac
and cheese?” He looked around the table at the faces staring him down. “Okay, whatever.”

Mackenzie rolled her eyes. But she scooped out a little more for Charlie and everyone else who wanted another helping. She said, “Actually, after enough boxed dinners you get bored—or hungry—enough to figure out how to cook something decent. Anyway, it's not very hard. You just have to mind-taste it.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you know, just imagine tasting it.”

“Dude, I can imagine eating this, but no way can I imagine making it, and I
watched
you do it,” Frankie said between bites.

“What do you mean, use your imagination?” Dante asked.

“If you know what something tastes like, imagine that, and then think about what would go with it.” They all looked at her, faces blank. She tried to think of an example. “Okay, take plain old marinara sauce. Nothing in it. Just tomatoes. Now try to mind-taste what it would be if you added a little freshly crushed garlic. Now imagine you put in too much garlic. Pretty soon you'll be mind-tasting different kinds of things and getting new ideas.”

Charlie nodded. “I am mind-tasting your bike right now.” He closed his eyes. “I'm getting a new idea about taking it out for a spin…” He opened his eyes and saw Mac frowning. “Kidding! I'm only kidding.”

“I see,” Dante said. Triumphant, Mackenzie pointed to him as proof her method worked. But then he added, “I see I'll never get past boxed macaroni and cheese.”

By the time they finished cleaning up, it was dark, and Mac and Frankie were grateful they'd already pitched their tent. They slid into their sleeping bags and groaned, relieved to be horizontal.

“If I'm this tired now, how's it going to be when we really start cranking?” Frankie moaned. “At least my knee's doing okay. I was worried it would start popping on me or something.”

“Frankie, you're yelling,” Mac told her. She rolled over and nudged Frankie. “Turn off your iPod. I can hear it!”

The tinny beat of the song escaped Frankie's earplugs and hung over Mackenzie like a toxic fog. She couldn't puzzle out the words, but she could hear a haunting organ solo and some guitar strums, making her belly suddenly tighten. She sat up and, reaching over to Frankie, yanked out her ear buds.

“Hey!”

“Turn it off. We're going to sleep,” Mackenzie said.

She couldn't tell what song it was, but it reminded her of the dream she'd had on the bus on the way to Providence. It stuck to her like cobwebs and made her skin crawl.