Dancing With the Devil (4 page)

“Otis said after today, there're two more fittings,” she said.

“And you're still not letting your dad chip in?”

“It wouldn't be mine if he paid for it.”

“You're crazy. Man, if my dad said he'd buy me a custom-built bike, I'd jump at it,” Frankie said for the hundredth time.

Once again, Mac fleetingly thought about telling Frankie the real reason she wouldn't take anything from her dad, but why go there? In any case, when Mac mounted her RC it would be on
her
terms. She'd never take his money. Mackenzie smiled, remembering that it was only after he married Barb that she even had anything to save.

Barb's first act as “mom” was to insist Mac get an allowance. Mackenzie remembered the argument because she'd never heard anyone stand up to her father before. It had never occurred to her that it could be done.

“She's almost eleven years old, Stan,” Barb had argued. “The kid needs to learn the value of a dollar.”

Stan had pointed at Barb's growing belly and said, “Oh, like you know the value of a dollar, with what you're spending on decorating a nursery for
that
?”

But Mac had started collecting an allowance that weekend.

In the five years since, Mackenzie's lack of monetary generosity had become legendary, and she'd been nicknamed Skater … as in cheapskate. Everyone knew if you were so much as a nickel short for a soda, you didn't ask Mac. Anything else, and she's right there. But money? Every Bike Geek knew Mackenzie Douglas had been saving for a sweeter ride than any of them dreamed of, so her nickname was more of a badge of honor than insult. Even from Charlie.

If her dad got humiliated, that was just icing. The more embarrassed he was that people might think he couldn't afford it, the more determined she became to save every dime on her own.

The girls sat up straight as they headed down the other side of the hill, the last on their way back to Frankie's, and raised fists to the sky, giving their customary whoop of joy. The wind shushed through the vents in their helmets and was the only sound above the lubricated whirr of their bikes as they sped down.

At the bottom they stopped at the red light, and Mac took her helmet off, shook out her hair, damp with sweat, and readjusted the strap.

As she hooked it back on, Frankie asked, “What does Barb say?”

“She's all like, ‘If it were up to me, I'd make you put that money toward college.'”

“And he still wants you to spend it on a car?” Frankie asked.

“Even said he'd pay for the insurance.” They made a left onto the next street, coasting until they got to Frankie's house, and slowed down.

“Do you think we're the only teenagers on the planet who'd rather have a bicycle than a car?” Frankie asked, setting her bike against the garage. She saw her mom through the window and waved.

Mackenzie grunted. “Nah. There are at least three other kids in the club who'd do the same.”

“Ha, yeah. Totally.” Frankie led the way through the back door and into the kitchen. The girls grabbed two apples and a bag of Lay's and went upstairs.

When they got to Frankie's room, Mac ripped open the chips and said, “I cannot be within a 1.2 mile vicinity of a potato chip. I told Barb to stop buying them. If I'm going to ride from here to Vermont and back, I have to get in shape.”

Frankie shook her head. “You're not starting this again?”

“What?”

“You're a human lung. You barely breathe while everyone else is gasping.”

“Still,” Mac said.

“Shut up! You are perfect. Charlie was practically flooding his desk he was drooling so much. Though, I gotta say, I think he's looking more buff than during the winter.”

“Who can tell with those baggy clothes he wears?” Mac said. “And anyway, it's good for a woman to be in shape. If she's strong, then no one can take advantage of her.” She peered into the bag of chips and breathed in their scent.

Frankie put her hand out. “You planning on sharing those?” But Mac wasn't done appreciating their delectable fragrance. Frankie crossed her arms and sighed. “Well, still, he was looking at you like you were candy and he had a big ol' sweet tooth. How could you
not
notice how many guys eye you everywhere you go?”

“I only care about Grady eyeing me.” Mackenzie counted out nine chips and handed the bag to Frankie. She pulled a long, embroidered case out of her backpack and untied the red ribbon that held it closed. Folding back the flaps, she slid out two dark wooden chopsticks and added, “As long as his eyes only go where I want them to, that is.” Mackenzie tweezered the first potato chip, brought it to her mouth, and nibbled on the edge.

Frankie flopped down on her stomach and grabbed out a handful of chips. “Get out. You still haven't lost all willpower to the famous Grady charm?”

“Whatever.”

“
Whatever
? I'm your best friend. What does ‘whatever' mean? C'mon, spill.” Frankie flipped over, causing a potato chip landslide.

“Me spill? You should talk!” Mac said. “Oh, crap—is your clock right? I was supposed to get home and make dinner. The Brat gets really cranky if she doesn't eat by half-past too early.”

Frankie said, “Did my mom tell you she bumped into Barb and Lily the other day? She wouldn't shut up about how Lily is exactly like you when you were her age. She said it was like seeing you in two different time continuums.”

“Yeah, well, the good news is, she's nothing like me. But it was kind of cute … the other day she'd snatched an old picture from my room, taken when I was little, and I walked into her room, and she was making it whisper to a picture of her at the same age, like we were telling secrets to each other at a playdate or something.”

“I'd love to meet my four-year-old self. I'd say, ‘At your fifth birthday party, when you find a marble on the kitchen floor, whatever you do, do
not
stick it up your nose.'”

Mac closed her history textbook and rubbed her eyes. She'd promised to have a cuddle with Lil and wondered if she was still awake. She got up from the kitchen table and stuffed everything into her pack and went to check on her sister. She peeked into Lily's room, but it was too dark to see, even with the hallway light streaming in. She walked closer to the bed, but Lily wasn't in it. When Mac went to her own room, she found her sister cuddled up with her blankie, fast asleep.

“Again, Lilybean?” Mac whispered. She quietly got ready for bed and then slipped under the covers. Lily moaned in her sleep, and Mackenzie put her arms around her and pulled her close, murmuring to her.

“Kenzie?”

“Do you have another big sister I don't know about?”

Lily gave a sleepy laugh.

Mac asked her, “Don't you like your own room anymore?”

“I like yours better. Please can I stay? I promise I won't kick you like last night.”

“Or the night before?” But Mac put both arms around Lily and held her tight, and they both fell asleep without another word.

“C'mon, we have
got
to get some zees.” Frankie reached over and turned the clock toward her. “Groan, sob, and gasp. It's two o'clock in the morning, Mac. How are we gonna to do thirty miles tomorrow?”

Mackenzie looked up at Frankie's ceiling from her traditional sleepover spot on the trundle. “Thirty? Doncha mean sixty?”

“You know,” Frankie said, “there is such a thing as overdoing it. You
can
get too strong.”

“Funny, Franks. We'll catch up on our sleep in the morning, skip breakfast.”

“You're the one who always tells the club to eat right so we don't bonk out.”

“True … but we'll be so hungry we'll forget about being tired, and we'll crank to get a bite at The Stand. By then we'll be halfway done and can come home.” She curled her hands under her hair at the back of her neck and flipped it up, making it fall over her pillow above her head.

Frankie leaned over the edge of the bed and looked down at Mackenzie. “You look like you're scared stiff, with your hair standing on end. Make a face like you're scared, Mac.”

Instead, Mackenzie stuck out her tongue. “Is it a plan? Shoot, I forgot. I have to stop home and give Lily her new kiss. I promised.”

“Okay, fine. And yeah,” Frankie said. “We're good. But I'm turning the light off now, or we're going to want to sleep until after dinner, and I hate riding in the dark, all those potholes waiting to bite my butt.”

“Wait here,” Mac said the next morning as she and Frankie stood outside her house. “I think they're all out doing errands, but just in case, I'll sneak in, dump my backpack, and be right back.”

“In case?”

“You know, the usual. Do chores, blah, blah, blah. I just don't want anyone to see me.”

Frankie folded her arms and raised her eyebrows.

“What?” Mac said.

“You shouldn't worry about being seen, since you're practically camouflaged in that kit. Love the subtle shade of fire engine red.”

Mackenzie looked down at her Bike Geeks shammy and shorts. “Heh, heh. Well, I'll just be extra quiet then.”

Mac peeked in the window, opened the kitchen door, and stuck her head in, checking to see if anyone was around. A few moments later, Mac burst out the front door, her eyes filled with tears, fighting to spill.

Mackenzie brushed past Frankie and said, “C'mon. Let's get out of here.” When Frankie didn't move fast enough, Mac yelled, “Hurry up!”

Stan appeared in the doorway as the girls got to their bikes. “I warned you, young lady. You don't like dances? Well say goodbye to the Spring Fling!”

Frankie hesitated. Mackenzie took a running leap and mounted her bike while it was moving. She sped away as he slammed the door shut. Frankie grabbed up the helmet Mac had left on the grass and raced after her.

Mackenzie finally slowed after turning down the next street. She stopped, waiting for Frankie. “Thanks,” she said as she accepted her helmet and snapped it into place. “Let's crank.”

“Wait a second, Mac—” Frankie said, catching her breath. “What the hell happened back there? You're grounded for Spring Fling? Grady's going to be so pissed.”

“Can we just ride, Franks?”

Frankie sighed but got on her bike and started peddling, making Mac catch up with her for once.

They rode hard, with Mac quickly pulling ahead to lead the way. Pounding her body, owning the pain, gave Mackenzie strength. She rocketed through the ride, not thinking, not hearing anything, even when Frankie hollered to stop at The Stand. Mac powered on.

When she finally stopped, Mackenzie propped her bike near the side of the road as a signal to Frankie. She knew she'd pick up their food and meet her at their usual rest stop. At this hour The Stand would be deserted, and the kid at the counter wouldn't have to make Frankie wait for long.

Mac climbed the apple tree at the top of the hill, thinking
escape, escape
… She almost laughed at herself. What was she thinking, she'd get to the top of the tree and jump into the clouds? She couldn't breathe and took ragged breaths, making herself dizzy.

Peeking between the leaves, she saw Frankie roll up and watched her scan the hill, catching a glimpse of Mac's crimson kit in the apple tree.

The tree was in full bloom, and the fragrance was heartbreaking, as though it were warning everyone to enjoy it, as it planned to only sweeten the air for a fleeting springtime moment.

“Mac!” Frankie called, trekking up the hill. She stood under the tree, looking up into its branches. They were filled with the white and barely pink petals of the blossoms.

In her bright red clothes, she was like a giant wound in the center of the tree.

“You okay?”

Mackenzie shuddered but nodded. She climbed down and sat on her haunches at the base of the trunk. She hung her head and finally slid down onto her butt, her legs sticking straight out in front of her like a little kid.

“God. He's such a freak,” she said, not expecting a response. Frankie didn't provide one. “Now he's always dancing with Lily.
We have to practice
,
he says. Like he needs practice.”

Frankie said, “Maybe Lily wants to practice.”

“A six-year-old should not be forced to go to a dance.”

“Six? Shoot, did I miss her birthday?”

Mackenzie reached into the zippered pocket of her hydration pack and pulled out her embroidered case. She turned to look at Frankie, who'd taken their food out of the paper bag and was arranging it like a picnic on her lap. “Yeah, five. I meant five. Whatever.”

Frankie took a bite of her food. “Why shouldn't she go? It sounds like a fun thing.”

Mac frowned. “It's not.”

“Oh, you are harsh.” Frankie elbowed her. “Did you go?”

“The only thing I remember is dropping my food and ruining my dress. It was a long time ago.”

Frankie played with her napkin, peeling the two-ply pieces apart. “Was it around the time your mom died?”

“No, she died before that. Before I turned five.” Mackenzie reached over and took her four slices of turkey, half a wheat bagel, and the baggie with apple slices covered with cinnamon and sugar. “I like how they do this,” Mac said, holding up a piece between her chopsticks.

“Mmm, me too.”

“Maybe you're right. Maybe it's like we learned in science when we did that chapter on psychology. Because I ruined the dress my mom gave me, maybe I, like, didn't want to remember,” Mackenzie said, using her chopsticks as pointers, as though Frankie could see what she was seeing. “We went shopping because she knew she was sick. I remember hearing them talking about it one night when they thought I was asleep. The dress was huge on me, but she promised it would fit the next year, when it came time. I remember … I couldn't figure out why we couldn't just wait…”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

They ate the rest of their food in silence and washed everything down with their energy drinks.

When they were done, and Frankie had balled up their trash into the paper bag and stuffed it into her pack, they rolled down the hill like little kids until they got to the bottom.

“Oh, I'm going to spew!” Mackenzie said, flopping onto her back in the soft cushion of new grass. It smelled fresh and sweet, though that could've been the apple blossoms. Frankie rolled onto her stomach and took a wide blade of grass between her thumbs and, bringing it to her lips, blew a loud farting noise.

Mac said, “You should join the school band.”

“I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be doing our weekend ride all at once, Mac.”

“Yeah, I know. I guess staying up till God-knows-when wasn't the greatest idea.”

“God doesn't have to know when—
when
was two a.m. and you would not stop talking about Grady. Grady this and Grady that. You can lose sleep over the guy, but
I'm
losing sleep over him and I'm not even his girlfriend.”

Mackenzie elbowed Frankie, but she was smiling. “I can't help it if I'm madly in love. Every time I see him, or think about him, or hear his name, I feel … like, I don't know … like—”

“Like butterflies. I get it,” Frankie said.

“More like weight-lifting Amazonian uber moths.”

“Isn't it so weird how just thinking something can make your body react like that?”

Mackenzie remembered the times that thinking something gave her a physical response, but she couldn't bring herself to confide in Frankie about it. Every night she heard her door creak open, and as she thought of what was about to happen, her belly would tighten; but it wasn't the fluttering of butterflies. More like poisonous spiders. Rattling snakes. Stinging scorpions. She learned how to get away from them, though. She ignored them all by escaping. Off she flew on a flying bicycle, where they never caught up with her. The faster she pedaled, the farther away she felt.

But no matter how fast or high she flew, she could never get far enough away to escape her father when he made his night visits.