The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

A Message About Mackenzie

Previously: "Pick-Up at the Warehouse" 

"Yeah, I guess I can talk to the guys about doing something tomorrow," you tell Mackenzie. She smiles at that, which is nice.

* * * * *

You talk a little more with her and Corinne, about classes and teachers you've had, and mutual friends, and what you like to do outside of school. It ends all too soon, though, when your cell phone buzzes with a text from your mother: Are you on your way home?

"Was that your mom or dad?" Mackenzie asks, as though she has x-ray vision. "Do you need to go home?"

"Uh—" You gape.

"I need to go home too," Mackenzie glances back over at Corinne. "You gonna stay?"

"Yeah, I can get a ride back with someone," she says.

"Give me a ride home?" Mackenzie asks you. "If you're leaving too?"

You stagger to your feet, and accompany her out.

* * * * *

You're half-an-hour past your curfew when you get home, but you don't suffer for it, for you texted your mom back to say you were coming home but that you needed to drop a friend off first. Church the next morning is awful, and the moment it's over you pull out your phone to text Dean and Patrick, to ask if they are up for doing anything. But there's already a text from Dean waiting for you: Hey b up at squeezin freeze around 2 if u want stop in maybe do something later.

And that would be perfect. Mackenzie had warned you not to call or text her before one, on account of she likes to sleep in late on the weekends. Two o'clock or after will be plenty of time for her to get ready, and for you to get lunch out of the way.

* * * * *

It is after two, though, before you can pick Mackenzie up. And there's another delay when she has to go back inside for a jacket after you tell her where you're going. Which is too bad, because she is dressed even more provocatively than she was last night.

Last night she only hinted at her curves and the shape of her legs with a loose-fitting t-shirt and some tight jeans. This afternoon, before she went back in, she was dressed in a different tie-dyed t-shirt, but one that binds more tightly to her body, almost as though it has been sprayed directly onto her skin. And she ditched the pants for a very short pair of cut-off jeans and flip-flops, showing off the entire length of her legs. She only laughed, though, when you asked if went in for gymnastics, and put her shape down to the occasional ride on her mom's exercise bike.

At least when she comes back out she has only donned a windbreaker, so you still get to drink in her legs as she makes the walk from her front door down to the street. You open the passenger-side door for her, and find it surprisingly hard, because the sight of her has left you feeling as weak as a kitten.

"So who is going to be out there?" Mackenzie asks as you pull into the street.

"Dean, at least," you say. "I don't know who else. He just texted me to say that's where he'd be, if we wanted to meet up there and maybe do something later."

"I like Dean," Mackenzie says. "He's so sweet. Sweet and smart. I like guys who are smart." She shifts to turn a provocative eye on you. You can only shrug in embarrassment, for although your grades aren't bad, you'd never brag about being "smart."

The drive out is mostly silent, maybe because Mackenzie gets on her phone. (Or maybe she gets on her phone because she finds the silence awkward.) At any rate, it leaves you glad that you decided not to gamble on getting alone with her. Since it sounds like she knows Dean and his friends pretty well, you can probably count on her and them carrying the burden of the conversation, leaving you free to dart in and out when you've got something good to say.

* * * * *

The Squeezin' Freeze is in downtown Saratoga Falls, across the street from the campus of Keyserling College. Street parking downtown is tight, even on a Sunday afternoon, but the parking lot two blocks down from the place is mostly empty, and it's an easy walk from there to the shop.

It's a cool day, with temperatures in the high 60s under partly cloudy skies. But you're glad that you dressed for colder temperatures than that when you step into the juice bar. It is almost Arctically cold. Mackenzie shivers and murmurs something under her breath.

"Wha'd you say?" you ask.

"I said, it's so cold in here. Do you mind if we wait outside?"

"Sure," you say, for on entering you'd been a little miffed to see that Dean isn't there, even though it's getting close to three. In fact, the place is mostly empty, there being only a couple of college-age girls sitting on stools at the bar that looks out onto the street, and one guy and a one girl sitting at a table in the middle of the place. You ask her what she wants to drink, then you let her go outside while you go up to the counter.

But you only had to wait for a bit, for Dean and a girl are outside talking to Mackenzie when you go back out. And that guy and girl who were inside with you have gone out to join them.

"Oh, hey," Dean says to you when you come out. His eyes dart. "Sorry we're late."

"That's okay, we just got here." You hand Mackenzie her drink. "Do we wanna stay here? It's kind of cold inside."

"It's an icebox!" Mackenzie agrees.

"Yeah, maybe we shouldn't," Dean says. He sounds distracted. "But where do we want to go?"

"There's a coffee shop just up the street," says the girl with him.

"Yeah, we could go there," he says. "Except they won't like Will and Mackenzie bringing their drinks in. And we gotta wait for Andrew to show up. Hang on, I'm gonna go look at the menu board here, see if there's anything I really want."

He starts for the door, then catches himself and turns to murmur something in the girl's ear. She listens with a light frown, then says, "No, I don't mind, go ahead."

"You sure?"

"No, I think I'd like the coffee shop better anyway."

"Okay." Then, on a seeming impulse, he kisses her lightly on the ear. She flinches a little, but smiles.

Too late, you look away from this. But then you feel a sharp tug on your shirt as Dean passes you. At the doorway he glances back to catch your eye.

"I'll be right back," you mutter, flustered, at Mackenzie. She looks surprised, even a little frightened, but lets you go without protest.

Dean is at the counter, staring up at the menu, when you catch up to him. He doesn't look around as he growls, in a low voice, "Get rid of her. Mackenzie. Go take her someplace else."

"What?" you exclaim. "Why?"

"She's bad news. Look, if you can hang on to her," he says, glancing at you finally, "more power to you. But keep her away from me and everyone else."

"What's wrong with her?" You are too shocked to be angry, but you can tell you're about to start getting angry in a minute.

Dean sucks in his lips, then says, "She's trouble. She's a flirt. She's worse than a flirt. Kristin, and Lacie, and Tiffany— They'll kill her if they're in the same room with her."

"Why? What—?"

"Just take her out of here. I'll tell you about it later. I don't want to spoil anything for you. With her, I mean. But you can't bring her around us." He glances past you, then adds. "You better go out there, take her off, before anyone else shows up."

"I'll take her to the coffee shop," you tell him after a moment's thought. Though you are feeling pissed off, you add, "Then you guys can stay here, or go somewhere else. Like you forgot to tell us you were going."

"Thanks," he says. Then he catches you as you turn away, and he looks deeply and gratefully into your eyes when he says it again: "Thanks."

* * * * *

Outside, you suggest to Mackenzie that you head on down to coffee shop, sipping your drinks on your way. She asks why you went inside, and you tell her that Dean wanted to tell you something about the girl he is with. "That he's with her," you say when she asks what that was. Her tone has turned peevish, you notice, and you can guess that she senses that something is up.

So you grab a chance to further the intended "miscommunication" when you pass the door to Arnholms' Used Books, which shares the same building with The Crystal Cave, and suggest stepping in there for a bit. (You have to dump what's left of your frozen juices first, though.)

You're glancing around the main gallery, trying to decide where to start browsing, when you see Ted Arnholm, at his work station, staring at you with beady eyes. He stabs a finger at you, and beckons you over. Mackenzie follows you.

"You were in here last week, weren't you?" he asks in a nasty, accusing voice. "You found something in our special collections, there was something wrong with it. We had to let it go to for pennies."

"Uh, yeah," you reply. You are taken aback by his attitude.

"Thought that was you." With a curl of his lip he digs through one of the little drawers at his station, and pulls out a white card, which he holds out to you.

"The previous owner was in here the next day, trying to buy it back. Of course we didn't have it anymore"—he snorts—"but he left his card. He'll buy it back from you, if you want to sell it. And if you do, don't accept less than two hundred for it!" he concludes with a snarl. Then he dismisses you with a disgusted wave of his hand.

"Oh my God," Mackenzie murmurs to you as you turn away. "What was that about?"

That's all for now

*
"Table of Contents (Vol. 5)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)"