1
School resumed in less than two weeks and Macy McKenna was glum. It seemed as if the older her classmates grew, the less sociable they became. It had been years since she'd played with any boys her age. They'd been fun when she was younger, but then they all seemed to grow mean and far more crude. They didn't want to share their toys or invite her to their birthday parties any longer. When she did interact with them, they seemed wild and even somewhat dangerous, venturing into the realm of curse words and cigarettes, talking about drinking cough syrup and Listerine, casually tossing about inappropriate remarks about girls as if they had been intimate with a few already. Not that the girls she'd hung out with were much better. She had recently noticed how they, too, had begun to change in ways she found uncomfortable. She was suddenly chastised for picking up dolls and stuffed animals when she visited her female friends. They were totally disinterested in board games and electronic games anymore. Now they all seemed to prefer talking about boys, trying out new hairstyles, playing with cosmetics, and putting on fashion shows for each other after spending half the day at the mall.
It wasn't that Macy preferred "baby things", as her friends called them when they teased her, for she was certainly interested in the new privileges and responsibilities maturity brought—it was just that things seemed to be changing so quickly. It was as if the summer between grade school and junior high had marked some hurdle in life she had yet to clear, and her peers were dashing madly toward adulthood, leaving her far behind.
Her father didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with her. "You've always possessed a maturity far beyond your years," he'd told her affectionately on more than one occasion. "It's one of the things I've always loved about you."
And while such conversations were sweet, they did nothing to ease the angst she felt. How could she be mature beyond her years, but still haul a collection of plastic toys into the tub to play Lost Island with while she soaked?
Now she sulked atop a leather-clad ottoman in the living room, rock-n-roll blasting from the stereo while neighbor and schoolmate Valda worked on her hair. "I can't believe you've never worn your hair in a French braid," the slightly older girl said in her ear. "You can't wear pigtails forever."
Macy liked her hair in pigtails. She sometimes wore it in braids that hung alongside her ears. Now and then she parted her hair to the side instead of straight down the middle.
"You should get streaks! What's your favorite color?"
"Orange?"
"Orange would look stupid on you. Maybe we should chunk your hair."
"Chunk it?"
"Like mine," Valda told her, leaning closer from the edge of the seat behind her to run her fingers through her thick hair and shake it. "They're like streaks, but the colors are closer to your natural color. Highlights and lowlights."
The younger girl's hair was a light golden blonde. "What color would the highlights be? White?"
Valda playfully slapped her arm. "No, stupid. Like…lemon or sunlight or…maybe a pale ash blonde."
Macy couldn't imagine a hair color called ash blonde. What popped up in her mind was something dingy and unattractive.
"You have no depth to your 'do," Valda complained. Her own hair ranged in shade from a muted caramel to milk chocolate to cocoa. She wore it shaggy in choppy lengths just shy of her shoulders. "And when are you going to start wearing makeup? My God. You're so bland."
Macy didn't specifically like Valda, but at least she was a female who would talk to her. "I'm only thirteen."
"Right. So you wear a little pale pink lip gloss…maybe something with a little glitter in it. Some mascara—nothing too drastic." She leaned forward from the chair again to sniff the little blonde. "What perfume do you wear?"
She didn't wear perfume. She used the same Irish Spring to bathe with as her father, and washed her hair with the same shampoo. "What do you wear?" she asked.
"Oh, Macy. When will you grow up?" Valda lifted a pearlized plastic-handled mirror from her backpack so the younger girl could see herself. "Very chic. Very adult," she said.
The blonde didn't care for the contours of her head with her hair twisted and taut. Even when she wore only a single ponytail, she didn't mind a few wispy loose strands framing her face. "Huh," she commented.
The music ended and Valda looked at her watch. "Your dad should be home soon, shouldn't he?"
"Yeah."
"You're so lucky. I wish I had a dad that was hot."
"Ew!" Macy turned to glare incredulously at the other girl.
"What? He is. You know it. And you're adopted anyway. So it's not like it's bad or anything."
"Really? I mean, like, seriously? I can't believe you said that!"
The older girl shrugged as she slowly repacked her belongings. "I mean, he's old and all…but he's so distinguished-"
"Can we not talk about my dad that way?"
"Your adopted dad. Lucky girl. Anyway, you ready for the boys this year?"
Macy was unimpressed with their immature antics. "I…it depends-"
"On what?" Valda rose to retrieve her CD from the stereo. "Get 'em now while they're ripe for the pickin'! While they still have some little boy looks and are terrified of accidentally hurting you."
"Hurting me? Doing what?"
The older girl twisted a shoulder forward and affected a snotty tone. "Well, you know."
"I'm still thirteen!"
"Oh, I don't mean that," she said airily. "Don't…let them break your heart. You gotta learn how to use them and dump them before they get too comfortable with you. Break their hearts. It makes them want you even more!"
"It sounds mean." Macy knew girls her age who were already changing out boyfriends as often as they painted their nails.
"It doesn't matter. We're just kids, right? When the right one comes along, you'll know it and you'll both be good for each other."
It sounded too easy and completely made up. "Valda-" They heard the distinctive sound of a vehicle mounting the sloped concrete driveway, the sound of the engine changing as it bounced off the garage door.
Valda grabbed her remaining loose items and zipped them into her bag, then straightened to smooth her clothing and fluff her hair while bent forward.
Macy blinked as she rose from the ottoman. "I don't think-"
The sixteen year old dug within a zippered pouch of her pack for a compact of lip gloss she smeared on thickly with the tip of her middle finger.
They heard keys in the lock and a door opening. Geoffery McKenna, tall, blond, with a handsomely sculpted face and lean, athletic figure dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and leaned a hand against it as if to steady himself, his eyes staring straight ahead but focused on nothing.
"Hey, Mr. McKenna," Valda cooed as she strode through the connector between living room and kitchen.
It took a moment for him to turn her way. He regarded her dully. "Hi…Valda." He sounded tired.
"You should go," Macy told the other girl from just behind her.
"How was work today?" The older teen had long, lean legs nicely tanned from a summer outdoors, and wore very short bright red shorts with a brief white embroidered top that exposed her middle.
"Goodbye, Valda," the younger girl said more firmly, then glanced her father's way to see if he'd say anything about her sounding rude.
"'bye," he murmured, distracted by something. He wiped a hand down his face and inhaled deeply, then turned enough to rest a fist on his hip.
"Oh, well, goodbye then." Valda cut her eyes Macy's way as if to relay something significant, but Mace didn't know what she wanted and merely gestured toward the kitchen door. "My stuff," the girl muttered, returning to the living room and exiting through the front door instead.
"Are you okay?" the younger McKenna queried, moving toward the elder.
"Uh, yeah. I'm good. Is there any tea in the refrigerator?"
"Sure," she answered, thinking it strange he didn't check for himself. "What happened? Did she turn you down?"
He turned his head slowly her way. "I didn't ask."
"Didn't the flowers arrive?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah." He pushed his keys around on the counter, then drew a chair back from the little table in the kitchen and sat. "She liked them. She thanked me for them…but…she got a new partner today."
"New…?" Macy set a tall glass of tea before him. "You mean…?"
"A new Quasar partner," he said softly.