Who is Mackie Spence? (15 page)

Beth nods. She and I move inside to attend to the other animals, leaving Mackie with the eagles.

Mackie rejoins us in ten minutes, and acts like nothing has happened. I want to be with her, alone.
What, if anything, has gone down between Mackie and Number 27 today?

The three of us meet up in the main office, and Beth offers to feed the baby chipmunks. Each of five orphaned infants must be hand fed with a small baby bottle.

Beth leaves, and Mackie and I move toward the supply room, picking up tools to clean the birdcages. With the peahen, a goose, and three crows still in recovery, we have plenty to do. And there's also Diana's cage.

“What happened? Anything?” I ask.

“I tried something new. Since he couldn't look at me, I tried to send him my energy. With most animals I feel like they're pulling something out of me. This time I gave.”

“Did it work?”

“After a few minutes he lifted his head and tried to keep it up. So, yeah, I think it did work. At least he knows I'm here.”

“What about Number 26, did she do anything?”

“No. Not while I was with Number 27. But after I finished with him, I stayed a few minutes with her. She's really strong now.”

“Great! I hope I'm around when Number 27 gets a good look at you,” I say.

“He's in bad shape. And he's been given a lot of tranquilizers.”

“That's for his own protection. He could wake up, go crazy in the cage, and hurt himself.”

“I know. I just wish he weren't so out of it.”

We resume our chores. All of the birds love having Mackie around and chirp brightly when we move them to clean their cages.

Mackie is her usual calm self, but once I find her looking closely at the peahen. They have a conversation with their faces, and the peahen coos.

When we're back in the hallway, I ask, “What was that about? Between you and the hen?”

“She's used to being around humans, but no one like me. She's curious.”

A peahen is curious about Mackie? Me, too!

When our shift ends, we say goodbye to Beth and leave from the front door. Mackie and I need to be ready in forty minutes when Wes picks us up. We jog to the T in the road, and she splits off to her house. I run home for the last two minutes.

In our house, I detect the unmistakable aroma of pizza and cruise into the kitchen.

“Mom, how much time before we eat?”

“The pizza should be done in twenty minutes.”

I have time for a shower, and can eat pizza in the car if I cut the time too short.

I take a shower, throw on clean jeans and a dark red T-shirt that Mom says make my eyes look more green than gray, and pull out a blue sweat jacket. Then I put my school ID, driver's permit, and some money in my pocket. I am club-ready.

After speeding downstairs, I check the hallway clock. There are only about five minutes left before Wes is due to arrive. Entering the kitchen at a trot, I stop at the oven and squint inside. The pizza looks ready.

“Mom!”

“I'm right here,” she says, stepping back into the kitchen from the pantry. “Go ahead. You can slice the pizza. I'll get Dad and Justin.”

I manage to eat one large piece and take another out with me to the front porch in a napkin. Yeow! Hot pepperoni has fried the inside of my mouth. As I lick my lips and wish for something cold to drink, Wes slams his BMW to a stop in front of our house. Angela and Jon are already in the car. We still have to pick Mackie up before meeting everyone else on the boat.

Everything goes according to plan. Wes even finds a parking space close to the boat. On the ferry, we join up with Ty and Wendy. Ty turns to Wes. “Okay, who's playing tonight?” he asks.

“Do you remember that montage group we heard last year? They fused a slammin' bass with dark keyboards and had that short chick singer? They joined up with Cloud Bank six months ago. That's who we're going to hear!” Wes says.

“Oh yeah!” Ty and Jon chorus.

Once in Seattle, we take a bus to Cisco's, getting off within a block of the club. We are late arriving for a hot-ticket group. The doors opened about a half hour earlier, but luckily there is still seating inside for us.

Cisco's has lots of tables and chairs, though once the band starts playing everyone will be on their feet. A dance floor is located right under the stage. Since Cisco's is an all-ages club, when a good band plays the place can get packed. But even with lots of people bumping into each other, Cisco's is like most everything Northwest: friendly-cool and laid back.

We sit at a round table on the side, about two-thirds of the way back from the stage and against the wall. Bounding with excitement, Wes takes off to say hello to some guys he knows at another table, Angela in tow.

A waitress shows up to take our order.

“What would you like?” she asks.

“We'll have two pitchers of root beer and three baskets,” Wendy answers.

I like her take-charge attitude. The root beer will be a cold relief for my pizza-scorched mouth, and the baskets will come loaded with thick-cut, herbed sweet potato fries. That's another thing all of us like about Cisco's: cold drinks and carbohydrate sticks.

I give Wendy a smile and mouth the words “thank you.”

Mackie nudges me. “Do you know anyone else here?”

“I don't think so.”

Cisco's is a place for Seattleites to hang. The hall was a nightclub originally, so it still has a bar with a long wall mirror and bar stools. But the alcohol is gone and the sound system has been upgraded.

Mackie and I talk with Ty and Wendy until the food arrives, then everyone munches as the band finishes its sound check. I make sure the fries have cooled before putting even one in my mouth.

When the music starts, it is hot. The bass is so heavy that I feel sound waves ripple through my body. I see Mackie open her eyes wide, surprised at the strong vibration. People around us jump up and dance, some crazier than others. We stand, swaying to the beat, and watch.

At the end of the first half hour, the band takes a few minutes to change up some of their instruments. Mackie and I look at each other and grin. As Wes offers his opinions about the music, I slide my chair closer to Mackie.

“Do you like them?” I ask.

“The lead singer sounds fantastic. How can she hit those high notes, and then get so low right away?” she says, her eyes sparkling. “And the energy is . . . Wes was right.”

“Yeah,” I say, putting my arm around the back of her chair. “It's cool. Wish we had something like this on the island.” Mackie nods her agreement.

When the band resumes, their pace is still white-hot. Soon everyone in the club stands up, stomping to the beat. I put an arm around Mackie's waist and she does the same with me. Hot? More like flash point.

At the end of the first hour, our waitress shows up again, and we order another pitcher of root beer and ask for water. Mackie turns to talk with Erica, and I make my way to the restroom. Heading back to our table, I see him. Brody.

He stands talking with some guys I don't know. He has on his Soltrice High letter jacket and pokes a finger in one guy's chest. His face is red. I scan for Jilly, but can't find her. That isn't good. What is he doing here? His being at the club doesn't compute for me. Cisco's is pretty tame for Brody.

I walk back to the table, and feel edgy with worry. Mackie is gone.

Erica sees me and waves. “Mackie and Wendy are in the ladies' room.”

“Oh, thanks.” I feel relief pour through my body.
Has Brody seen her? Probably.
We have a big table that would draw his attention.

I half listen as Wes describes another band scheduled for Cisco's next month, but keep my eyes glued to the opening of the ladies' room. When Mackie and Wendy walk out, I look over at Brody. He is clearly watching for someone. He smirks when he sees Mackie, and turns back to his friends. My muscles tense like springs.

Mackie stops to talk with Erica before sitting down next to me. I still feel jittery about the look I saw Brody give Mackie.
Does she know why he's here?

“Ah, your former friend is here tonight,” I say, trying to stay cool.

With a cute smile, she leans forward and rests her hand on my knee. “Who? Where?” she asks.

I don't answer her because the MC begins announcing Cisco's calendar of upcoming bands.

“It doesn't matter,” I say, and take her hand in mine.

Brody has moved away from the juice bar and I can't see where he's gone. Maybe it doesn't matter.
Is Brody here by coincidence?
He doesn't associate with any of my friends, so how could he know that we would be here tonight?

“When we get back to the island, do you want to come to my house? We could watch a late movie or something,” Mackie suggests.

“Sounds good,” I say, looking straight into her happy eyes. I am so, so lucky.

Then the band starts to play again and I loose track of any worries about Brody as Mackie stands and sways in time to the beat with me. The music replaces all of my worries with waves of surging guitar and keyboard.

At the end of the first set, we leave the club and head eight blocks over and downhill to the ferry. By skipping and speed walking, we arrive at the dock just in time to make the boat. Everyone is in great form. The music has jacked us up.
Our energy can take over the world!

Wes drops Ty off first, and then drives us to Mackie's house.

“Be good,” Wes warns me. “You, too, missy,” he adds, pointing both of his index fingers at Mackie.

She blows him an air kiss, laughs and says, “I'm not making any promises, but thank you so much for driving.”

Mr. Spence walks out of the kitchen and calls to us, “How about it? Want to watch a classic film? We're just about to see another of the Pink Panther movies. One with Peter Sellers.”

“Oh, those are the best,” says Mackie, clapping her hands.

We both nod. I've seen two other Pink Panther movies, and they were hilarious.

I pull out my cell phone, call my mom, and speak in a rush. “Hi. Mackie and I are back at her house. I'm going to stay and watch a film. I'll be late, okay?”

“Ask your folks if they'd like to join us,” Mr. Spence calls out. “Plenty of popcorn for every one.”

“Mr. Spence wonders if you and Dad want to come over, too,” I say, biting my lip.

“No, honey. I'm tired and Dad's already asleep. Be quiet when you come in,” Mom says.

“Sure.”

“Did you have fun at the club?” she asks.

“Yeah, it was great. I'll be quiet. 'Bye,” I say, as we move to sit at the end of the great room with a big screen.

Mrs. Spence says hello to me as Noelle races to take her favorite chair. Mackie and I sit together on a small couch, and her parents sit near us on another.

This is the first time I've been with her family in one room since Mackie and I started seeing each other. It feels weird, but not too bad at the same time. Since I've known the Spences for years, I'm sort of okay.
Her parents aren't acting any differently.
I want to put my arm around Mackie. Will they accept my new role in her life?

Mackie solves the problem. She nudges me with her shoulder, then reaches over to hold my hand. Just like that, we announce that we're more than friends. No one acts differently toward us, and I relax as the movie begins. In a few minutes, I put my arm around her shoulder. Soon, all of us are laughing at Inspector Clouseau and his sidekick, Cato.

The movie finishes around one o'clock. But I'm still keyed up from the day. Mackie's parents say goodnight and Noelle drags herself off, making a ferret face at us as she leaves.

Mackie and I walk outside to the front porch. The night has turned cool and I shrug into my jacket, then pull Mackie in and wrap it around her, too.

She stretches up and whispers in my ear, “It was fun tonight, but I always feel good with you. It doesn't matter what we do.”

As we kiss, I believe she is right. Being around Mackie is
the best
. I run home knowing I've never been happier.
I love her.
There it is. The feeling I have for her is love. In fact, it feels great that she means everything to me.

Sunday morning I jolt awake from another dream about Mackie and dark water, but this time she calls out to me for help. It's really more of a nightmare than a dream.

I shake my head and try to get rid of the image of Mackie and the darkness, but the pleading look she had on her face in the nightmare stays with me. Reaching for my cell phone, I send her a message:

I'm trying to make it a friendly question. She doesn't answer right away, so I get dressed and head downstairs to see about breakfast.

But first I see Mom, alone, in the family room working with a sketchpad. She has three studios to teach this semester and spends Sunday mornings on her own work.

“Hi,” I say.

She looks up, startled.

Jeremy. What movie did you see?”

“It was a Pink Panther film. There's this scene where Inspector Clouseau and Cato demolish a hotel room that's amazing. Were all Peter Sellers' movies from the '60s and '70s that funny?”

“You know, that was before my movie time, too. But maybe we should see some of those. You've talked about the Pink Panther films before.”

“Yeah, I think you and Dad would like them. Justin, too.”

“Okay. How are you and Mackie getting along?”

I squirm. “Fine. We're fine. When's brunch?” I ask.

“In about an hour. Do you need something now?”

My stomach growls. “Yeah, maybe a little.”

“Then have some fruit and yogurt.”

The rest of the day, I am out of it, as in dragging-myself-around out of it. With two late nights in a row, I've hit my sleep wall. After brunch, I take a nap, and wake to find a message from Mackie that she'll meet me at the shelter. We have no new intakes, which is good, because both Mackie and I look like two-toed sloths, moving in slow motion through our chores. After our shift ends, we push ourselves out the main door and walk home slowly. After dinner, I finally get to my homework, and am in bed by nine o'clock on a Sunday night.