Shhh...Mack's Side Page 6

  “I’ve done my share of experimenting.”

  “I needed to do it. I needed to feel the high in order to come down.”

  “What does that mean, McKenzie? What did you need to come down from?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know how to get you to understand.”

  “Tell me about Colton.”

  “What about him.”

  “Do you like him?”

  I shrugged both shoulders and snarled my lips. “I don’t know. I don’t want a relationship with him if that’s what you mean. I don’t need to be in a relationship to define who I am,” I assured her smartly, spinning an ink pin around and around on her shiny desktop.

  “I never said you did. You’re very defensive today.”

  “No I’m not. I’m not paying you to talk about Colton. There’s nothing to talk about. There’s nothing going on with Colton and me.”

  “Oh that’s right, McKenzie. I forgot. You’re here to talk about your childhood again. How many times have you told this story?” Lila asked, standing with a bit of a struggle. What the hell?

  I didn’t respond. That’s not what I did, was it? Lila wasn’t expecting a response. She continued with her synopsis on the last twelve years of my life. “Why don’t we start where you left off last week? Tell me why you went to counseling the first time. You were twelve, right?

  I swallowed, contemplating what she was doing.

  “Right?”

  “Yes. I was twelve.”

  “Go on. Why? Why would you be in counseling at twelve?”

  “I wanted to go.”

  “You wanted to go? Why?”

  “I thought something was wrong with me. I couldn’t sleep. I would go days on very few hours of sleep. I still had to keep up my good-girl routine for Kyle.”

  “Kyle? We graduated from Gia’s dad to Kyle?”

  I ignored her with a dirty look. “I had to keep my grades up and study. Gia made me run with her every single day. Five miles, seven days a week. When I wasn’t working on some dance routine with Gia, I was working hard to keep my grades up.”

  “So you just went to your parents and asked them to take you to counseling?”

  “Yes, but they didn’t let me at first.”

  I rested my chin on my fist and continued to spin the pen in circles, feeling the rejection as if it was right in front of me.

  “I had just gotten home from practice. I had an English exam the following morning. Gia wanted to go over the new routine one more time. I didn’t want to do the routine again. I wanted to sleep. I just wanted to sleep.”

  “Mom,” I quietly said, seeing her in the kitchen. She was uploading pictures of a new house she’d just listed.

  “Hmm?” she sort of responded.

  I dropped my backpack to the floor and sank to the chair in front of her. She never stopped working to look at me. She couldn’t even look at me for five seconds. “I think I’m sick.”

  “Why do you think that? Go take some Tylenol.”

  “I don’t need Tylenol. It’s not that kind of sick.” At least I got a look that time.

  “I don’t have time to play your games, McKenzie. I’m busy. What do you want?”

  My heart hurt. It felt like it was being shattered. I was crying for help and she was too busy trying to stay one step ahead of Melanie to hear me. I walked away unnoticed, listening to her say no, over and over, because whatever she was doing was giving her fits.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said, plopping to the sofa in the den. He waved me away, showing me he was on the phone. I left him with a heavy heart, too. Nobody cared. Nobody cared about what was going on inside me. I just wanted someone to care, someone to understand.

  Hearing laughter, I walked back to the kitchen, feeling like a zombie. Gia was telling my mother about the new routine, demonstrating the new wave where her hips swayed in different directions, and then she explained the jump. My mom was too busy to hear my pleas, but she wanted to hear Gia giddily talk about a stupid dance routine.

  “Hey, you ready?” Gia asked, seeing me.

  “Yeah,” I replied, following her to my basement to rehearse the routine we weren’t going to perform for another month. Oh well. At least it occupied my mind.

  It was that weekend that I had no choice but to make my mother listen. I was scared and alone, but I couldn’t explain what was going on. All I knew was I couldn’t sleep, I was exhausted one minute and bouncing off the walls with energy the next. My mind was having a hard time keeping up and separating what was real from what wasn’t. Gia was throwing one hell of a tantrum because I was ditching her. We were supposed to be going to Samantha’s birthday party together. I was sick. I didn’t want to go.

  “McKenzie. You told her you’d go. You can’t back out at the last minute,” my mom scolded, taking her side. I didn’t feel hurt or shattered that time. I felt disgusted, seeing her move Gia’s hair from the front of her shoulders to her back, twirling it between her fingers. “Where are you sick? You don’t look sick.” I couldn’t explain how I was sick. I didn’t know. I just was.

  “Why don’t you go with her, Mom?” I screamed. I was so sick of it all. Gia, and the way my mother flaunted her shit around, acting like they were best friends. I was over it. I disappeared upstairs, trying to talk myself calm. Something was wrong with me. Something wasn’t right. I felt it. Lying across my bed, I waited for my mother to storm in with her wrath. She never came, not to yell at me for being rude to Gia or to see if I was okay. She didn’t care. I never came out of my room. I fell asleep. Exhaustion finally won and I slept, shoes and all.

  “Mack. Mack. Can you hear me, Mack? Where are you?”

  I could feel everything about this revelation, the sand, the blue-green water, the falling darkness, the wind chimes, a picnic table. I was standing on the bench of a picnic table, in a building. No. It was a pavilion of some sort. Why was I crying?

  “Maaaaaaaack,” Gia called, dragging out the “a” in my name.

  I could see her, but I wouldn’t answer. I could see the wind chimes and struggled to hear her. Gia was fading, and the only things I could hear were the two distinct sounds, blowing in the same wind.

  I could feel his warm hands. He wrapped my legs around him and rubbed my back, but I couldn’t see his face. I didn’t know who was there. I was afraid of him. Did he hurt me? That’s when I woke screaming at the top of my lungs.

  With tears streaming down my face, I fought hard, trying to keep a balance of what was real and what wasn’t. This room was real. It was my room. I could see the pictures of Gia and me all over my mirror. The sounds of my screams were real. The feel of the cold, hardwood floor was real. No. Wait. That wasn’t real. Why was I on the floor? The wind chimes. That was real. I could hear them.

  “What the hell are you doing?” my dad yelled from the door. My mom stood behind him, looking concerned.

  “I’ve got it. Go to bed, Mark,” she requested. My dad left, shaking his head and she closed the door.

  “McKenzie? What’s wrong?” she asked, running her hand over my hair.

  “I’m scared,” I cried. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I wanted it to stop. I wanted someone to help me.

  “Oh, baby, come here.” My mom sat on the floor with me and held me. That was the first and only memory I had of my mom being a mom. It took me having a nervous breakdown to get her attention, but for now, she was here and I needed her.

  The first doctor put me on an antidepressant and something to help me sleep. It worked and I transformed into a happy, healthy, teenage girl. Gia and I were competing somewhere every weekend, traveling all over with our mothers. It was fun. Those years were worthy. Vacations were good. Holidays were awesome, and Gia and I went through a lot of firsts. Bra shopping, monthly periods, virginities and competitions. We were becoming pretty well known around Shayla Harbor. Our names and pictures were constantly in the local paper, holding ginormous trophies, looking too sexy for teen girls in our skimpy tiny outfits.


  It took a few years, but I was finally on an antipsychotic drug that seemed to work. I still had days where I would feel totally strung out, but for the most part, I could handle it.

  Things were good. I was happy and balanced. I didn’t feel the neglect I’d felt for my entire life anymore. Nothing like that bothered me with my new meds. I just had to keep them hidden from Gia. It was easy. My mom never told Melanie I was on medication either. She would never want her to know something like that.

  Everything was awesome. Gia and I started our senior year with a plan. We already knew we had scouts watching us and there were rumors of Milo Slogan, talking to the coach about Gia and me. He wouldn’t be talking about anyone else but us. I carry the bragging rights well. We were the best, and not one person from Monte Academy could argue that fact. We had our hearts set on The Juilliard School in New York, and it just so happened, Milo Slogan was a scout from there. Everyone who was anyone wanted to go there. We had it all planned out. We were going to get an apartment on campus, maybe live in a sorority house.

  Of course, we were planning on following in our mothers’ footsteps, and get our degree in business, too. We’d live in New York City, side by side, or maybe even L.A. We would sell homes worth millions and steal the club dance floors, rendering men and women wanting us both. Gia’s dad always told us we needed a plan. He used strange metaphors to get us to understand the importance of planning our futures.

  “It’s like getting in a car and heading to Texas without a map,” he would say.

  “We have GPS,” I reminded him.

  He frowned at me. “That’s a plan. You map it out. You know where you’re going before you start out. You don’t start out in life not knowing which direction you’re going.”

  “Dad. Shut up. That’s so stupid. We’re seventeen. We’re not supposed to have plans,” Gia argued. I took it to heart. I was the one sending out all the scholarships and college applications. I never told Gia, but I was really hoping to get into Michigan State. They had a dance team and an awesome program for business—our long term goal.

  “We’re not going to Michigan State,” Gia complained. She had her heart set on living in New York for whatever reason. I didn’t care. Whatever, it was fine by me. Gia wasn’t thinking long term. She was thinking college parties, boys, and competing. That’s all she could see.

  That’s when he came there. That’s when he ruined everything. Or did we ruin it ourselves? Mr. Nichols was taking over the English department at our school. He wasn’t like any teacher I’d ever been around. He was young, and oh, so good-looking. I think every girl in school wanted him. If there was one who didn’t, it was because they were labeled as lesbian.

  Mr. Nichols had a longer hair style for a teacher, his clothes weren’t really what you’d expect to see on your English teacher. Casual Fridays were the worst. Jeans on Mr. Nichols should have been illegal. His ass was mouthwatering, and every girl there looked at it, giddily making comments behind his back.

  “Stop it. You’re drooling. Jake’s going to see you,” I teased, watching Gia’s mouth part while Mr. Nichols walked past us. He smiled and kept moving.

  “Fuck, Mack. Why does he have to look like that?”

  “Come on. Let’s go look at his face for forty-seven minutes.”

  Gia lusted over Mr. Nichols like a crazy person. She made it very well known what she wanted from him. Not just to the other girls, but him as well. Gianna was very forward with her actions. I think Gianna became his favorite word. Mr. Nichols was constantly scolding her for her remarks. Gia didn’t care. She would bat her eyelashes and walk away with the last word, usually something sexual. When Gia told Mr. Nichols to shut her up, she meant it.

  “You’re going to get thrown out of his class. You do know you need it, right?” That’s the part I didn’t understand. Yes, Gia was good, Gia was really, really good at dance, but no matter how hard I tried to get her to understand how this all worked, she wouldn’t listen. I could do her homework every day and it wouldn’t matter if she couldn’t pass the class at the end of the year. I couldn’t take her test for her. She thought her looks and talent was going to get her what she wanted. I was trying to tell her it wouldn’t.

  This thing she had going on with Mr. Nichols was getting ridiculous. Her mouth never shut up about him. I didn’t understand it. She could sneak Jake in before either of her parents got home, do him, and be talking about Mr. Nichols before his truck was out of the driveway.

  “Good. Let’s wrap it up here, McKenzie. We’ll start with, college next week?” Lila questioned.

  I looked down at my phone. Wow. That hour went fast.

  “We never made it there. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you next week,” I said with a smile. I felt good. I felt really, really good. I was rested, I succeeded with the best Fashion Week layout in history, and I felt—hmm, like a load had been lifted. Normally, talking about me and Gia left me in a daze for few hours. I didn’t feel like that today. I felt whole.

  Although I knew it wouldn’t last, I embraced it with open arms. I’d take every good day I could get.

  Just like it had two years before, Mr. Nichols’ parole came and went, and just like the last time, I almost wrote the letter. That part of my life was best left in the past. There was nothing I could do to change it. Trying to move on was the best thing I could do.

  I had those times in my life, the times like this where things felt like they might be okay. Work was great, things settled again, where they would stay settled until the Christmas edition. It gave me anxiety just thinking about it.

  Colton and I continued to grow into something. I’m not really sure what that was. He kept my secret, and in return, I’d ditch the medication once in a while. I didn’t just do it for him, but I did let him think I was doing it for him. It was more to benefit myself. I would get to where I couldn’t sleep, and then let Colton talk me into crashing. Of course I would be higher than most people have ever felt while I waited for the crash.

  “I’m going to go home and shower and pick up a few things. I’ll bring supper,” Colton cheerfully explained, popping his head into my office door. “You okay?” he hesitated, seeing the dazed look on my face. I should have taken my medicine in the morning and waited for the effect. I thought I could rush it a little, cut to the chase and not have to deal with the normal things Colton wanted to do. I didn’t want to cuddle and watch movies. I wanted to use him to cure the itch between my legs and then I wanted to crash until Monday morning.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you later.”

  “Is it already starting?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t take anything this morning.”

  “Come with me. We’ll go to my place.”

  “I don’t want to stay at your place. I need to be in my own element,” I explained. The thought of it felt like it did when I had to travel and stay in hotels. I hated it. I didn’t sleep there either, I paced the hotel floor, waiting for the alarm clock to tell me I could leave.

  “Fine. Let’s go to my place and then we’ll go to yours. Come. Let’s go.”

  Colton didn’t give me a choice and I wasn’t really in any shape to argue. I knew what I was doing without knowing what I was doing. I would remember every single thing I said and did with Colton, things I would never do on my medicine. I didn’t do it often, and I always made sure Colton was with me. It was just enough to get me by. Although it makes no sense whatsoever, I needed to do it to keep my sanity.

  Coming off my meds slowed me down for a minute. I wasn’t compelled to be constantly moving around like I was used to. Regardless of the excuses I made, I was glad I found another AJ. Just like Colton, AJ witnessed firsthand what the other McKenzie was capable of. No matter what either of them said, it was about something they have never experienced in their lives. I was sure of that.

  I’ve heard both partners have to partake in the act of sex on ecstasy to gain the full effect. I don’t necessarily believe that. I know as well as I am standi
ng here, all three of the men I have let see me this way have experienced something they probably would have never experienced had they not known me or how crazy I could get. Not only were all my inhibitions lost, so were theirs. I took them to new dimensions, places they never dreamed about going.

  “Don’t pick up any little kids today,” Colton teased, leading me to the taxi. Why did he say that? How did he know what I was thinking? Colton was one of them. He was out to get me. Wait. One of who? I shook the thought. That was the last thing I needed. No more hang-ups. I had enough for ten people to go around. Nobody was out to get me.

  I fought with everything in me not to go to the little girl crying. They were all crying. Which one was she? I would never find her in this mess. The entire sidewalk was filled with little kids, little girls. Not one boy. They were all little girls.

  “What the hell, Colton? What are you trying to do?”

  “You’re fine. It’s okay. Let’s get you back to your place. I’ll just shower there.”

  “How am I supposed to find Cara like this?” I asked, pulling away. I grabbed the first little girl I saw. She wasn’t Cara. She was too big.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” the stranger yelled, shoving me away from his little girl.

  “Sorry, it’s not her, CARA!”

  “McKenzie, stop,” Colton scolded. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Colton apologized for me.

  “Where is she, Colton?” I asked, staring intently at his face. I could feel the feelings. They were real. This wasn’t fake. The feeling I felt being close to her was real. She was here. She was close, I could feel it.

  “You’re okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Colton soothed in a cool, calm tone.

  “I’m not scared, Colton. Can’t you see it? Can’t you see the happiness? None of them are upset. They’re all happy. Hear the laughter? Can you hear how happy they are, Colton? They see it, too. They see how beautiful life is. They can see the colors. Nobody’s afraid. We’re all happy,” I sang, dancing around like a ballerina. Only one person had ever tried to understand that. He got it. That someone was not Colton.