Dancing With the Devil (3 page)

“I'm sorry I was mean, Brat.” Mac put her arm around Lily's waist. “But believe me, you don't want my life. Yours is waaaay better. You have a big sister. I don't. And you have a mama who loves you.”

“Mama loves you too, Kenzie.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I don't remember much about that old dress anyway. Wouldn't you want a brand new style?”

“Well, Daddy said no matter what, we will buy one that fits a princess!”

“You mean ‘fit for a princess,' Lil.” Mackenzie stood up and steered her sister out of her room. “Want to know a secret?” she whispered as she clicked the door shut behind them.

Lily said, “You're not allowed to tell secrets, Kenzie.”

“Well, I haven't told you yet, SillyLily. But don't tell anyone, okay? I'm going to go out, but that's our secret, okay?”

Lily nodded with much more energy than necessary and followed Mac as she headed toward the front door. As she stopped to put her jacket on, Mackenzie could hear her father lecturing Barb in the kitchen.

“I'm her father. I know what's best for her.” Barb replied, but Mac couldn't hear what she said. “It's not as though you're her real mother; you can't love her like I do.”

Same old, same old.

Then he flicked on the radio because God forbid they had an actual conversation.

Lily was tugging on the bottom of her jacket. Mac walked to the front door and opened it, Lily still attached. “But, Kenzie, will you come with me to find a dress just like yours so I can be like you?”

The whole dance thing was her dad's idea of showing off at the club, and just the thought of it ticked Mac off so much that she was snapping at Lily. Before she could stop herself, she removed her sister's hand from her jacket and squatted down to Lily's level. “Repeat after me: The dance sucks. I will hate it. The dance sucks. I will hate it.” As Mackenzie stood up and walked out the door onto the front step, she glanced over her shoulder at her sister, hoping she wouldn't see tears.

But Lil was a tough kid. Instead of crying, she balled up her little fists and stamped her foot. “I will
not
hate it! Daddy said it's fun 'cause it's at the club, and you had fun when you went, and no matter what you say, I know you loved it because Daddy told me and said I'll love it too.”

Mac knelt to be at Lily's eye level. She put her hands on her sister's shoulders and said, “Repeat after me: I have it good. I don't want to be like Kenzie. I have it way better.”

Lily shook her off and stepped back until she was next to the open door.
“You don't know
anything
!” To Mackenzie's surprise, Lily slammed the door right in her face before she could say another word.

Grady pulled up in his Mustang, and Mac ran down the walk and hopped in. She gave him a quick hello kiss and glanced toward the house. “Hurry up and go.”

“I thought you said it was okay?”

“Well, it's easier to say sorry than give them a chance to say no.”

Grady pulled away from the curb and headed east toward town and the reservoir beyond. Mackenzie loved how every time he finished shifting gears, his hand automatically went back to holding hers.

“Grady?” Mac said. He glanced at her and smiled. God, he was gorgeous. Sometimes she couldn't believe he loved her. Her stomach flipped over. Mackenzie wanted to know who was at his swim meet but didn't want to come off as one of those naggy jealous girlfriends. But she had to know.

“So who else was there today?” She said it lightly, like,
just making conversation over here, Grady; I actually couldn't actually care less, Grady. Yep, just curious is all.

It worked, too, because he responded casually, “You know, the usual people. A couple of guys who want to try out next year, the kid I'm coaching this summer for the town team, my family.”

She was relieved, though she'd never admit it to him. There were a lot of swim team groupies, and she was happy he hadn't made any comment about them, which meant he wasn't paying attention to them.

He drove through the village, nudging Mac when they went past I Scream Ice Cream. Mac shook her head even though she knew Grady never met a double toasted almond he didn't like. They'd passed the multicolored row of Victorian buildings that housed the other exclusive shops in town by the time she spoke again.

“Cool that your dad could come.”

“Yeah, they had a good time.”

“They?”

Grady gave a half-smile. It looked more like he was fighting a painful gas bubble. Mac stared at him, waiting.

He cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, he brought Julie. This is top secret, but they're, uh, they're getting married.”

Mackenzie waited for him to crack a joke, but none came.

“Ew,” she said, finally.

“Nice, Mac.” He shifted gears. This time his hand stayed on the gearshift.

“Well, it's just kind of weird, you know, considering the only reason they met was 'cause you went out with Sophie.”

“So?”

“So your dad is marrying your ex-girlfriend's mom. Which means your ex-girlfriend will be sleeping down the hall from you.
As your sister.
I can just see you all having family dinners together,” Mackenzie laughed, but choked on it, and it came out more like a cough.

“You don't have to be jealous, Mac. Soph and I are just friends. And don't tell anyone, because it's supposed to be a secret still.”

She didn't like how he called her “Soph.” Nobody called Sophie “Soph.” Just like nobody called Mackenzie “Mackenz.” Except Grady.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they got to the reservoir, Grady parked by the side of the road and they walked through the woods to the water's edge. He untied the line and held the boat steady while Mac climbed in. They pushed off from the shore and glided out a ways before Grady picked up the oars. It was quiet; the earth was dark, but above, it glowed. The crickets were starting up, and birds flew in swoops and turns, silhouetted against the still-light sky.

The air smelled like the new earth of spring; Grady and Mackenzie both heaved a huge sigh at the same moment. They smiled at each other and the knots in Mac's stomach relaxed. He loved her. It didn't matter that Sophie and Grady would be living in the same house. He was totally over Sophie. Anyway,
he
had broken up with
her
. Besides, she'd be his sister now. So all bets were off, right?

If only I could be sure
, Mackenzie thought.

“Grady, stop. Stop!” Mackenzie sat up, tugged at the bottom of her shirt, and tucked it into her jeans. Grady sighed. He rolled onto his back, his arms flung above his head. He groaned. The blanket they'd brought in the boat was spread out on their rocks, the outcropping that crowned the closest island in the reservoir.

“Jesus, Mac. You're going to give me blue balls. Can't we at least do
something
?
I don't know one other guy whose girlfriend won't at least go down on him.”

“Don't be gross.” Mackenzie buttoned her shirt to the top until it looked like she was wearing a turtleneck. “I just can't. I just … I just … can't.”

Grady sighed again. “Mackenz, we've been going out for what? Almost six months already? That's a record. It was okay in the beginning, but c'mon. Now you're just not being fair.”

“How am I being unfair? Just because I don't want to do that with you?”

“But don't I have any rights? You look so beautiful, your hair, your long legs … do you have to be so hot?” Grady rolled over onto his stomach and pressed into the rock. He groaned again. “It's just so frustrating.”

“I'm sorry, Grady, but …”

He sat up and put two fingers against her lips. He brushed her hair out of her eyes and stroked her head. “No, it's okay. I love you, Mackenz, I do. You're just so tempting.”

He stood up and started gathering their things. “I'll take care of things when I get home.”

Mackenzie shoved his shoulder and said, “Ew. Do not even go there!”

“Hey. A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do.”

Mac hung her jacket on the hook next to the front door and went through the unlit hall toward her room.

“Mackenzie?” Her father called from the den. His voice echoed in the quiet house.

“Yeah?” She paused.

“Please come here, sweetheart.”

She went and leaned against the door. The den had always been his domain, and was decorated as though he were the only one who lived in the house. Even during the daytime it was dark, filled with leather furniture and brass lamps with green glass shades. There was one window, but he'd put his chair between it and the desk, so he always faced the door. Like a guard dog, he never missed anyone walking by. Bookshelves lined the walls on either side of the room, and on them were dozens of photos of him and Mac when she was little, before he married Barb. There were pictures of him with Barb and Lily too, but Mac never seemed to be around when they took those. It was like his before family and his after family.

Once, when Frankie came over, she had joked about how lucky Mac was that there were no embarrassing pictures of her, documenting the worst of the awkward years, post-cuteness.

The next time she went over, Mackenzie noticed how Frankie's mom and dad had taken a picture of each of their kids every year on the first day of school and hung them in chronological order on the wall along the stairs. As you climbed to the second floor, it was almost like watching the kids grow up. They had framed wedding photos on the big piano in the living room, along with other extended family photos.

Her dad was at his desk, staring at something on the laptop in front of him. The only illumination in the room came from the glowing monitor, making his face look ghoulish.

“What?”

“Where were you?”

You rock, Lily! You kept my secret!
she thought. “Nowhere.”

“You mean you evaporated for the last two hours and were floating within the atmosphere?” he said, his tone even, which instantly put Mac on alert. She wondered if she was misreading the situation. Was that supposed to be one of his stupid jokes?

“I was with a friend. I finished my paper, so what's the big deal?” She knew enough not to mention Grady. Her father didn't like her to go out with boys.

“Which friend? Dante?”

“Yeah,” she said, nailing the correct answer. “It was Dante.”

Stan closed his computer, and Mac couldn't see his face in the sudden darkness.

“Next time make sure you ask first.”

She didn't want to get into a tug-of-war because she'd never win. Finish and be done as soon as possible had always been her best exit plan. “Sorry,” she said. Why was he letting her off the hook just like that? He was acting so totally weird.

“Hmmm?” He was back looking at his laptop.

“I said sorry, Dad.”

Then she remembered the packet for her bike trip. “Listen, I have to give you the forms. You need to fill them out.”

“Hmmm?” He was lost in the work he was doing.

“Dad! My bike trip this summer! The forms have to be filled out or I won't be allowed to go.”

“Of course you're allowed to go. I said you could, didn't I?” Stan looked up and smiled.

Mackenzie walked around the desk and stood behind him. She looked over his shoulder to see what was so distracting. It was the site for their country club on the Cape. The page for the annual Father-Daughter Dance shimmered with animated fireworks. Geez, this was unbelievable. The thing wasn't until after she left on her trip, but he was all “The dance! The dance!”

Stan clicked on a link and up popped a photo from the archives. A little girl beamed up at her daddy as he twirled her around the dance floor in her beautiful polka-dotted party dress.

Stan chuckled. “Look, honey. I never saw this shot before. You were so cute! And there's the dress. Too bad you ruined it.” Stan paused, lost in a time when Mackenzie didn't go out with boys and only had eyes for her daddy. “God, it brings back such memories. Maybe we did store it at the beach house?”

She looked more closely at the photo on the laptop. She remembered the dress being red and white, but not the way it looked in the picture. She recalled her dad telling her she put too much ketchup on her hot dog, and then dropping the whole thing in her lap. She remembered crying about the dress being ruined, but when Barb had described it at dinner, there had been no mental image of anything close to a frilly polka-dotted dress. She felt like she was in an alternate universe, or that
Twilight Zone
show her dad watched, where her reality isn't the same as the rest of the world's. Like, she's standing in the pouring rain, freezing her butt off, and everyone else is saying, ‘What're you talking about? The sun is shining and it's hot as hell out here.'

Mackenzie shuddered.

“You cold, sweetie?” Stan rubbed Mackenzie's arm, but she flinched and snapped awake, making her way back around the desk.

“What's your problem?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. He leaned back in his chair and stared at her.

Mac sighed and looked down at her feet. “Is it okay if I sleep at Frankie's this weekend?” When her father muttered his approval, Mackenzie headed toward the door and said over her shoulder, “I'll leave the forms by the front door on your briefcase.”

She had almost made her escape when Mac barely heard her father issue his warning. “Say another word to your sister about that dance, and you're going to be a very unhappy girl.”

Mackenzie slammed the door shut and bounded up to the front of the classroom. She heaved a bulging backpack off her shoulder and dumped it on a front row desk. Three textbooks and the two full liter bottles of water that Mac always carried, but never drank, slid out. Banging on the desk with her fist, she announced, “I move that the Bike Geek meeting come to order.”

Charlie leapt up from his seat and picked up the bottles, one in each hand. “What's the deal, Skater?” he asked Mackenzie as he curled them like weights. “Aren't you buff enough?”

She turned to face him, eye to eye. They were the same height, but with opposite coloring; Mac's straight white blond hair hit her chin at the same spot Charlie's blue-black curls met his. His dark, almost black eyes twinkled, laughing at her, while her cornflower blues gave nothing away. She wouldn't let him get to her. He folded his arms in an effort to make his shoulders appear broader than hers, but carrying around two liters of water every day does work its wonders, and she inhaled and matched him.

Mac took the bottles and shoved them back in her pack. She blew her bangs off her forehead and, ignoring Charlie's question, sat on the desk and counted everyone who was there. “Dante, don't start the minutes of the meeting until Otis gets here, okay? He's on his way. We need to go over my application to get certified, and he forgot the papers.”

“Why would anyone ever go to some bike mechanic boot camp to learn something you already know how to do?” Charlie said. “It's a waste of time.”

“Hey, you're the one who wants to work at the shop,” Mac answered. “Get serious about getting your license and maybe Otis will get serious about hiring you. Besides, with my license, I'll be able to earn big cake doing race mechanics.”

“I can't even
apply
to get into the workshop if I don't have the hours at a shop, and if he won't let me work there how can I get the hours…” Charlie waved her off with his hand. “I might as well forget it. It's a vicious cycle.”

The girl slouching in a back row seat guffawed.

“What, Frankie?” Charlie looked back at her. She twirled a long dreadlock around her neck, covering both the dashes tattooed there as well as the words “cut on the dotted line” inked beneath them.

She said, “Dude, why don't you open your own shop? You can call it The Vicious Cycle.”

He squinted at her for a split second before turning to face the front to loudly ignore her. “Can we just start the meeting? It's already 3:45, and I want time to ride to Hudson and back before dinner.” Charlie was doing his best imitation of politeness. Frankie snorted.

Charlie turned to her and frowned. “What now, Frankie? You don't think I can?”

“Depends how late you eat dinner,” she said.

“How are you going to get to Vermont and back wearing those baggies, Charlie?” Dante teased, “Isn't it like riding with a parachute brake?” Dante had no problem wearing spandex.

“Just 'cause I don't wear that road rider crap doesn't mean I'm not for real.” Charlie blew a kiss to Dante. “However, for you, the spandex is probably a perk.”

“If you were serious, dude, you'd at least shave. You're dragging air with those bush legs you got,” Frankie said.

“It's too queer,” said Charlie. “No offense, Dante.”

“I'll take it as a compliment, darling,” Dante said, blowing a kiss back at Charlie.

Frankie heaved a huge sigh and shushed everyone. “Mac, since we can't start before Otis gets here, why don't you tell us about the bike?” She gestured for Mac to move on.

Mackenzie couldn't conceal her excitement. She curled one ankle around the other, twirled them apart, and did it again. “Okay, so, he took my measurements—”

“Lucky guy.” Charlie didn't even bother to feign courtesy, and made a big show as he checked out Mac's face, sketched down her chest and then her long legs as she crisscrossed them beneath her.

Frankie glared and shook her head. No one understood how Mackenzie was able to ignore Charlie whenever he pulled this crap, but actually, she wasn't. For her, it didn't even exist. If he went there, Mac just erased him just like she erased anything unpleasant. Why focus on the negative? You couldn't get anywhere doing that, anyway.

Frankie hissed, “Watch the drool,
Chaz
.
Go on, Skater, tell it.”

Mac continued, “He took my shoe size, shoulder width, checked my hams and hip flexibility—”

“Like I said, lucky guy.”

“—and asked about any injuries and stuff like that. There were form questions about how I ride, if I take hills standing, and riding goals and stuff, but Otis and I have skimmed enough blacktop for him to know my style.”

Dante asked, “How long till you get it?”

“Well, I still have to pay for it, but even with my pro discount I'm short. O's helping me out, so I'll owe him hours.” She sighed, but it was a satisfied sound. “A lot of hours.”

“Not
that
many,” Otis said as he hurried in and waved his hellos. “Your time at the workshop counts—and once you're certified, it'll be worth it to have you as my race mechanic.”

“Yes!” Mac fisted the air and smiled. “Hey, O, I thought MaToya was coming?”

“She hit a snag on a big term paper. She'll be here next meeting.” He settled himself in the back row and started to shuffle through a stack of papers on the desk in front him.

“But Ma's definitely coming on the trip with us?”

“That's the plan.”

“Aw, c'mon, O,” Charlie said. “We don't need no stinkin' babysitter.”

Without looking up from the papers, Otis said, “If I'm your van support, you need MaToya on the road with you for safety reasons. Not to mention school sanctioning and all that stuff. Besides, she's been on every trip since we started this club. She knows the ride.”

Mac added, “Plus, Ma's the best mechanic I've seen, and she'll be able to give me some good pointers before I hit the workshop.”

“I can fix my own bike, thank you very much,” Charlie said.

“As long as you keep your hands off mine.”

“Your what?” Charlie leered. “
Oh
, you mean you won't share your RoadCap?” He stuck out his lower lip and pretended to cry.

“Darling, if
I
worked as many extra hours to pay for a custom-built bike, I wouldn't let you even look at it,” Dante said.

Mackenzie rummaged through her backpack and grabbed a notebook. Opening it, she glanced at her notes and said, “Okay, we have, like, three—”

“Wait, wait,” Charlie said. “You've worked
extra
hours?” Turning to the back of the room, he said to Otis, “I thought you said you couldn't hire anyone else?”

“Charlie, I told you. Mac's going for her mechanic's license, making her eligible to be on my race team, and in exchange she gets her RoadCap,” Otis explained. “Besides, there've been plenty of times she's gone above and beyond at the shop.”

“I didn't know blow jobs were considered above and beyond,” Charlie muttered under his breath.

Frankie whispered, “Dude, you are
such
an asshole, you know that?”

“Whatever.”

“Is there anything you don't whine about?” Frankie looked over Charlie's mismatched outfit. “Though I might start whining too if I got caught wearing a kit as dorked out as that.”

“Yeah, dude, how can you wear your mountain bike shorts with the Geek shammy, and
what
is on your feet?” They all leaned over to check out Charlie's socks.

“At least I'm consistent,” he said, stretching his legs out and making no effort to hide what he was wearing.

Dante said, “Scandalous. Mixing kits from three different clubs? Have you no shame?”

Charlie licked the tip of his thumb and touched the blue sock, then the orange one, and made a sizzling sound.

Frankie said, “You wish.”

Otis looked up from his puzzle of papers and clapped his hands. “C'mon, people. Stop fooling around. You have a lot to cover.”

They went over the bike-a-thon treasury and set a date to present the Westchester Children's Hospital with the money they had raised, and agreed new trikes for the littlest patients were the best way to start indoctrinating future riders.

“Hey, can we talk about the killer pothole I hit yesterday? I almost tacoed my wheels,” Frankie said.

Mackenzie sighed. “What's the point? The costs—”

“Yeah,” Frankie continued. “We ought to hit the town meeting or whatever, and get them to deal with the side streets. They're, like, completely lame. I mean, after what happened to me.” She rubbed her knee.

“Charlie, can't you talk to your dad about it?” Frankie asked. “If he's on the town council, we should at least have an ‘in' or something.”

“Yeah, talk to your dad for us,” Dante agreed.

“Talk? To my father?” Charlie said. “What a concept!”

“Nice, real nice,” someone mumbled.

“Gee, thanks for the help,
Chaz
,” Frankie said. “Why am I not surprised?”

“As I was saying,” Mac said, shooting Charlie a look to shut him up, “it's a money thing. It's no news the town's going to spend the budget on the streets where the hottest businesses are.”

It went on like that for a while, everyone moaning, as usual, about how riders aren't respected, and if the mayor were a cyclist, the streets would be perfection.

Otis brought his fingers to his mouth and gave a crisp whistle. “We leave the Friday after school is over, so we're talking June 29th. Between now and then, I want you riding at least thirty-five miles a day, midweek, and fifty to sixty on weekends. It's a long way to Vermont, and just because the snow's gone doesn't mean the mountains have left too. Mac, you've been leading the group rides once a week, right? Well, I want you to schedule at least one, maybe two more a week now. You guys are going to be kickin' it.”

Charlie snapped his fingers. “No prob, O.”

Otis shot him a doubtful smile. “Do the thirty-five
every
day, Charlie, understand me? Dante and Frankie, your permission forms aren't complete. Mac, your dad didn't send yours in at all. Here's another packet, in case it got lost in the mail.”

Mackenzie took the packet from Otis and flipped through the thick wad of papers, silently cursing her father.
Fat chance, lost in the mail. He knew she was going. He'd been promising for six years.

“… I repeat, no forms, no trip. Are we clear, people?” Frankie, Dante, and Mac grunted a chorus of yeses. “One last thing,” Otis said, reaching into a box at his feet. He held up a bright red shammy in one hand and a pair of spandex bike shorts in the other. “The new kits came in!”

Everyone rushed to the back of the room and grabbed their proper sizes. After the meeting, Dante and Mac walked through the breezeways up to the main building. Everyone joked that some architect from California must've designed the school, since you had to walk outside every time you changed classes. There were five different buildings, all connected by breezeways, as though the town of Wheaton never went below fifty degrees. If it rained, kids got wet. If it snowed, you either took your coat with you from class to class, or, if you were a macho football player type, froze your butt off as you ran from building to building.

Frankie caught up to them as they got their bikes from the rack in front of the school. She leaned over, hands on knees, massaging a still-red scar. “Dudes, I gotta get in shape if I want a slide ride.”

Mac commiserated with a wince.

“I have a feeling we're gonna be baked no matter what,” Dante said.

Frankie straightened and started untangling her bike from the lock. “Hey, I
was
doing forty a day, but after I popped my knee …”

Dante grimaced, looking at her scars. “You'd think that'd be the one pothole they'd fix, considering the gravity tattoos you collected on that crash.”

Mackenzie said, “There's still time to get in shape. And your knee's pretty good now, Franks.”

Frankie flexed her leg and said, “Yeah, it's good. I just have to get my endurance back. I'm cranking with Charlie to Hudson later, even if he is an asshole. Actually, the more assholic he is, the more motivated I am to leave him in the dust.”

“Front or back, and are we doing our ride now or later?” Mac asked.

“Front. I don't want to abuse my tires going the back way. I just tuned up. And yeah, let's do the ride now. Let's just dump our books at my house first since it's closer.” Frankie hopped on her bike and took off, stuffing her dreads under her helmet as she rolled.

They peddled down the street that led from the school to the main part of town. It was a pretty ride, curling around the winding streets of the little community, past the carefully tended gardens and lawns.

Before Mac's family moved there, Wheaton had been mocked as the slum of Barclay, the rich hamlet nearby. But it had become a wealthy place in its own right, with up-and-coming moneymakers like her dad moving there, planting McMansions wherever a small lot was still available.

It was early spring, and the buds were starting to pop. It had rained, and Mac took a deep breath, inhaling the satisfying freshly soaked smell of wet blacktop.

“Man, you are this close to owning an RC,” Frankie said, holding her finger and thumb two inches apart. “I am so totally jealous.” She switched gears to make it up a hill. “It's just amazing. You're really going to have a RoadCap.”

Mac switched down too and stood up to get some muscle going. It felt good to feel her thighs working it. She loved going uphill, visualizing her quads bunching up and hardening, then stretching out as she pressed the pedal down again. Keeping the cadence constant always soothed her. It made her feel like a machine, powerful and beyond human frailty. She smiled to herself.