Who is Mackie Spence? Read online

  “Gotta go,” I say looking at the hall clock. “See you at lunch.” I feel Wes’ puzzled eyes on my back as I walk away.

  It’s a struggle to stay focused in class, even though I’m aware that Mr. Wakely likes to prowl around the room as he speaks, looking for students who aren’t paying attention.

  “Okay, let’s see what you learned from today’s assignment . . . Who can tell me the name of the Confederate commander at Fort Sumter?” Mr. Wakely pauses, his eyes searching for a victim. “Mr. Tarleton?”

  Hearing my name, I have a moment of panic. Did I hear the full question? I suck in a deep breath and take a chance, “General Beauregard.”

  “Correct. Now, someone tell me the name of the Union commander,” he demands moving on to another victim. “Mr. Hirshfeld, who was the Union’s commander?”

  I daydream more as the question and answer session continues.

  After class, Wendy gives me a sly look that I can’t decipher. What’s up with her?

  I hope it doesn’t have to do with my leaving Jen’s house early with Mackie.

  Following an uneventful Computer Lab, I rush to the Dining Hall, drop my backpack on a seat at our still-empty table, and stand in line for lunch. When I return, Wes has taken a seat next to mine with Ty sandwiching me on the other side. Mackie, seated across from us, eyes them with a playful smile.

  “Hi, Jer,” she says quietly, with an innocent look, as I sit down.

  I nod back, not sure of what to say.

  “Wes just asked how I was feeling,” Mackie says, catching me up. “You know, because I left Jen’s party early.”

  Looking away from me and back to Wes, Mackie continues without missing a beat. “I’m feeling much better, thank you. In fact, I’m so much better that I could dance. You know how to dance, right, Wes? You too, Ty?” she asks the questions innocently, looking back and forth between them. Of course she knows they dance. Or, what passes for dancing.

  The guys look confused. This is exactly what Mackie has been so good at for years. Confuse and conquer. I know her strategy. She isn’t going to let Wes push her into talking about why she left Jen’s house so early.

  Mackie grins at me. By this time, almost all our friends are seated and eating. I look down at my tacos, pick one up, and take a bite.

  Mackie waves her arm to get Erica’s attention.

  “Erica, are you and Jon going to Sadie with anyone?”

  Wes and Ty lean in to make sure they hear the conversation. In fact, everyone at our table has settled down, suddenly aware that something is happening. Erica shakes her head, looks at Mackie, and cocks her head to mark the question.

  I take another bite of my taco.

  “Then, can Jeremy and I catch a ride with you guys?” Mackie’s voice sounds like she is setting things up for the four of us to have coffee after school. The way she posed the question sounds so . . . normal.

  Giving her a surprised look and then darting a look at me with the same face, Erica squeals, “Oooh, that will be so much fun!” She turns to Jon, seated next to her, as everyone at our table begins buzzing at once.

  Mackie looks back at Wes, smiles sweetly, and switches to her faux Southern accent. “Westerly, could I ask you to trade places with me? I’d like to ask Jeremy a little question about our English assignment.”

  Wes flashes a grin at me and stands up. “Sure, no problem,” he says.

  Ty’s mouth hangs open.

  Of course, Jen and Erica get up from their seats and speed over to talk excitedly with Mackie about the dance. When did she ask me? What will she wear? Blah. Blah.

  The guys shake their heads at me with accusing looks. I didn’t tell them. They’ve had had to hear it from Mackie.

  I smile at Wes. “Angela?” I ask.

  He nods, a big grin growing on his face.

  While Mackie converses with the girls, Ty endorses me with a thumbs-up.

  I chuckle. It’s all too crazy. Yeah, crazy-good!

  After lunch, Mackie and I walk out of the Dining Hall together and head for our English Literature class. The corridor is full of fast-moving people and bouncing noise.

  “Are you okay with what I did? I mean about us going with Erica and Jon?” she asks, as we move beyond our friends.

  “Oh, yeah. No one even questioned us about leaving Jen’s party early. It was all about the dance,” I reply.

  “But that’s not why I asked you. You know that, right?” she asks, concern spilling out of her brown eyes.

  “Yeah, I know,” I say, and I hope so. Because I know that, besides being very cool and smart, Mackie has another skill. I’ve watched her over the years. She knows how to set things up to her advantage. Like when she told me to call Jen and make an excuse for our leaving the party. She’d come up with a story to cover our exit with almost no effort. I don’t want to believe her asking me to the dance figured into any of that. In fact, I feel lucky to be going with her.

  English and French classes over, I walk Mackie downstairs to her locker.

  “Will you call me after I finish at the shelter?” she asks.

  Nodding, I say goodbye, and hustle to my chemistry class. When class is done, I head to the gym locker room for cross-country practice.

  I change into my workout clothes and am putting my shoes on when Brody sits himself next to me on the bench. Oh, here we go.

  “Tarleton. I hear you’re going to Sadie with Mackie. What’s that about?”

  “She asked me.”

  “Out of nowhere she just asked you? I don’t think so. How long have you two been hanging?” Brody’s mouth is a straight, unhappy line in his face. He opens and closes his fists. He looks mean.

  “We’re not hanging. And if we are? So what?”

  “You don’t want to go there. You think we’re not going to have a problem?”

  “According to Mackie, she’s not with you. You’re with Jilly. Right?” My heart sounds like it’s ringing in my ears.

  “Don’t get cute with me, T-Man,” Brody says, his voice ratcheting up in volume as his lips twist. A couple of the guys turn to watch us.

  “Look,” I say, in as calm a voice as I can manage. “Like I said, she asked me. Why do you care?”

  “Because you said you didn’t know if she was seeing anyone. You’re lying to me, you sack of shit.”

  “Nothing was going on then. If it had been, I’d have said so, because I don’t see how it’s a big deal. Or is it? Are you still hung up on her?”

  He doesn’t answer and stomps off.

  I look over at the other guys and shrug.

  “If you had any ’nads, you’d punch him,” Cole says.

  I stare at him. Cole should think about his own gonads.

  Out on the track’s practice field, Coach has his hands on his hips, kind of rolling them to ease the joints.

  He calls out to us, “Come on, come on. Just because we took Riley Park doesn’t mean we can lollygag. Does anyone have a problem? No? Good. Listen up. You’re doing tempo runs today. Same route as always. I want everyone back here in forty-five minutes. Twenty minutes after four, gentlemen. Now let’s go.”

  I begin running with a loose stride, heading for a nearby island park with trails and woods. The air is cool and dry, more like fall than summer. After my talk with Brody I feel the urge to run hard, but that isn’t at all what Coach wants today.

  I ease into my warm-up pace, planning to reach peak speed in about twenty minutes. I’ll run hard for at least five minutes and slide back down the cycle. For a while, I coast behind Ryan and Cole. Then they increase their pace and disappear around a curve in the trees.

  How does Mackie heal animals? I’ve read about people who train or live with pets and develop an intuitive connection, but never one that involves spontaneous healing.

  In the third minute of my peak, a hard shove from behind bounces me off a Doug fir. I land on the ground, on my face.

  “Uhhh.” My breath pops out of my mouth in a gust.

  As I
scramble to my feet, Brody moves ahead on the trail. He looks back to make sure I see his smile. My arm burns from where I’ve hit rough tree bark, and my face feels hot.

  I try to catch up with him, wanting to return the shove, but he has the advantage and is too far ahead of me.

  How am I going to deal with this? I’ve wrestled with Jon, Wes, and Ty growing up, but we’ve never thrown serious punches. Staying away from Mackie isn’t an option, though. How can I get Brody off my back? So much for a nice afternoon run.

  Back at the practice field, I stretch out and cool down with Ben.

  “Great day,” he says, smiling up at the sun in a cloudless sky. Being with Ben is settling, something I need as I watch Brody cowboying around with some of the guys.

  Coach claps his hands and asks, “Any problems?” He looks us over. “Good, then get dressed and get out of here. Tomorrow we run intervals.”

  He starts to walk away then turns back. “Our trophy and ribbons should be here Friday. Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

  Everyone heads back to the locker room. Unable to contain my anger, I approach Brody as we near the building. He acts like nothing is unusual, and keeps walking with Cole. But Cole backs away when he sees the look on my face.

  “Why did you do that?” I ask Brody, my voice rough with anger.

  “Don’t act like you don’t know why,” he growls. “How long have you been seeing Mackie?”

  “She’s been my friend for years.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “Nothing happened until this weekend when she asked me to the dance. That’s two months after she stopped seeing you. What’s your problem?”

  “Oh, so now you want a piece of her?” he asks.

  “Don’t talk about her like that.”

  Brody grabs the front of my shirt.

  I snap, pushing back with both my hands on his chest. We end up tangled, on the ground, punching each other.

  We fight for maybe fifteen seconds before I hear Coach’s voice above us. “Cameron! Tarleton! My office. Now!”

  We lay on the ground. My lower left rib and jaw hurt. Brody has hit me hard. I search his face, hoping I’ve hurt him, too. The pain in my right hand tells me yes. Yes, I have.

  “You’re a dickhead,” Brody hisses at me.

  “Brody, shut it,” Coach growls. “I sure hope you two can get up, because I’m not going to help you.” Then he turns his back on us, and heads into the building.

  A few of the guys stand off to the side, watching. Ben walks over and gives me a hand up, his eyes wide as he looks from me to Brody.

  I walk ahead of Brody, into Coach’s office. The guys are wound up about the fight. I hear Cole say, “If Jeremy had any ’nads . . .”

  Coach sits behind his beat-up metal desk in his cinderblock office. He motions for us to be seated in a couple of straight-backed chairs facing the desk. Then he opens the thermos on his desk and pours himself a cup of coffee. He is not smiling.

  “So what’s this all about?”

  Neither of us speaks.

  “Okay, tough guys. No talking, no running. That’s the deal. Either we settle this now or you’re both off the team. What’s it going to be?”

  “Brody’s got a problem because his ex asked me to Sadie One,” I grumble.

  “Asshole,” Brody shoots back.

  “I’m not going to warn you another time about your language,” Coach says, looking grimly at Brody.

  “So, you boys figure the way to resolve this is to duke it out. That’s very manly of you. Did you stop to think that would get you kicked off the team? No? Well, then you’re not thinking today. Are you?”

  He takes another swallow from his cup. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Sadie One’s girls’ choice, right? So you’re going to let the girl choose. If she wants to go to the dance with Jeremy, then that’s the way it is. Brody, you can’t decide by yourself that someone’s your girlfriend. It’s a mutual thing. Got it? Jeremy, I sure hope you know what you’re doing because dating the ex of a teammate is a recipe for disaster. But that’s up to you.”

  He flaps a hand in exasperation and takes another sip from his cup.

  “If the two of you can’t live with this situation then you’re no good to this team and you’re off. What’s it going to be?”

  Coach leans back in his chair and looks from Brody to me. His hands shake slightly.

  I break the silence first.

  “I didn’t say yes to Mackie to get to Brody. But I’m going to the dance, and I’ll see her for as long as she wants to see me.”

  “You’re a real douche. But you’re not worth me losing my letter,” Brody responds.

  “So is this a truce?” Coach asks. “I want to hear it from both of you. And I want to see a handshake and no more crap out of either of you for the rest of the season. Can you do that?”

  I sit up straighter and glance at Brody. “Okay. Unless you come at me first.”

  Brody looks like he wants to hit me again, immediately, then he relaxes.

  “Right,” he says. “Mac will get bored. Like tomorrow.”

  “You’re not saying the words I want to hear, Mr. Cameron,” Coach says, drumming his fingers on his desk.

  Brody stares at Coach like he can’t believe he has to say something more, then he grins. “Okay, cool. Let the best man win, you know what I mean. Mac’s going to choose me soon enough,” he says.

  “Shake hands. Now,” Coach orders and stands up to show he wants us to be done.

  I hold out my hand.

  Brody takes it, squeezes very hard, and forces a smile.

  Most of the guys have hung around in the locker room to find out what happened.

  Cole looks at me and asks, “So?”

  “We’re still on the team.”

  Disaster averted. Brody avoids questions by snapping his towel and heading for the showers.

  I see Ben, already dressed, lounging on a workout bench.

  “Let’s go home,” I tell him, pulling my clothes out of my locker and stuffing them in my gear bag. I can take a shower at the house.

  As we head out the locker room door to the parking lot I say, “Ben. Thanks. For what you did back there.”

  “No mas,” he says, grinning and holding his hands up in mock surrender.

  Once home, I trudge upstairs to the bathroom, glad to be by myself. The fight has left me feeling upended and cold, like I might vomit. I look at my face in the mirror, and see a bruise forming where Brody socked my left jaw.

  After turning on a small heater in the bathroom to warm the air, I go into my bedroom and pull out a change of clothes and a sweatshirt, then I head into the shower. The hot water eases my tense muscles, but doesn’t do much for my racing thoughts. Brody won’t just walk away. He’ll fester under Coach’s no-fight ruling; maybe even make it through part of the season. But I know Brody wants to come after me. And a big part of me wants to do the same thing to him.

  After the shower, I rub arnica gel on my jaw and my aching ribs and then slide into my clothes. Hopefully, the gel will reduce the bruising. And the pain.

  I hear Mom arrive home from Seattle, and then Justin’s feet pounding up the stairs. When Justin is in his room, I move like a snail down the steps, debating whether Mom might have already heard about the fight. Or maybe she’s heard from Mrs. Spence about Sadie One.

  She might know everything. The island’s Moms Network runs deep. My mom knew about the police bust at Spooner’s within minutes of Ty texting me. It’s hard to do anything without someone’s mom or dad knowing about it.

  But when I walk gingerly into the kitchen, trying to act like nothing is wrong, Mom just recruits me to help with dinner.

  I sit on a bar stool at the counter cutting tomatoes when she notices the bruise on my jaw.

  “Where did you get that? At school?” she asks, looking closely at my face.

  “Ah, yeah. Brody and I sort of ran into each other. It’s nothing.”

  “How did tha
t happen?”

  “Uh, we were fooling around and fell down.”

  “You boys need to be more careful. You could have broken a tooth. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “No. I’m okay. Really.”

  Dad comes in, sniffs the air, and raises his eyebrows at Mom.

  “Chicken and noodle casserole,” Mom says.

  “Mmmm. So how are things going here?” Dad asks her, patting her arm.

  “I was looking at a bruise that Jeremy has near his mouth. He and Brody got a little wild at school today,” Mom replies. I was hoping not to have to go over this with Dad.

  Dad waits for me to speak.

  “We, ah, fell down,” I explain.

  “People don’t just spontaneously fall down,” Dad says. When I don’t respond he says, “Jeremy, take some time to think about what happened and how it could have been avoided.” He doesn’t understand. It will get worse if I let Brody push me around.

  I finish the salad, set it on the table, and return to my room. The casserole will take more time to warm before it’s ready to eat, and I want to talk with Mackie. She should be home from the shelter. Stretching out on my bed, I send:

  can U talk

  She replies:

  Dinner now. Later?

  My reply:

  sure

  Justin eases into my room and waits next to my desk.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “You are cordially invited to dine with the family,” Justin announces in a formal voice, bowing low. He definitely is watching too many old movies.

  “Okay, I’ll be down,” I reply, and slip my phone into my pants pocket after he leaves the room. I don’t want Justin to see how much it hurts me to get up. He would have questions. Maybe even ask them in front of Mom and Dad.

  I am seated at the table with my mouth full of casserole when Mom turns to me.

  “Jeremy, is there anything else you want to tell us?”

  Seeing her face, I know that she isn’t referring to the fight. She looks way too happy.

  “Ah, Mackie asked me to Sadie One,” I say, spearing some salad with a fork.

  “You’re going to Sadie with Mackie! That’s wonderful! When did she ask you?” Mom can barely contain herself.