The Takedown(19)

There was little doubt Mac liked me back. Whenever we passed in the hall or bumped into each other outside my freshie math class, our eyes locked. Beats blaring from his headphones (this was before Dr. Graff threatened suspension if she had to tell him one more time…), he’d dance that eyebrow up and give me this adorable, sexy lopsided smile. Afterwards I’d have to lean against a cubby to catch my breath, Mac peeking back at me over his shoulder as he ambled away.

Taylor Louise threw the first party that fall. Her parents went to Tulum for the weekend, leaving her in charge of their Prospect Heights brownstone. A mistake they only made once.

In my honor, Audra picked our clothing theme even though it wasn’t her turn—Love ’Em and Keep ’Em. The girls had decided a full week beforehand that Taylor’s party would be the night Mac and I got together.

It was my first high school party. We made our entrance, appropriately late. I still wonder if things would have worked out differently if we’d arrived on time. Fawn and Sharma went to scope out the kitchen, and Audra and I went in search of a bathroom. We found a line snaking through the second-floor hallway. Audy cut right to the front.

“Tiny girl bladders out here.” She pounded on the door. “Hurry it up.”

Silence. She pushed against the door. It popped open. And there was Mac. With his face plastered to Keisha Hutchinson’s.

“Ew.” To her credit, Audra did not whiplash her head to catch my reaction; instead she reached for my hand and said, “At least have the courtesy to lock the door.”

“Està roto,” Mac sang out, barely coming up for air. “Why do you think everyone else is waiting?”

I never knew if he realized I was standing there or not. Regardless, ice cream, tears, and a sleepover at Sharma’s followed. I felt worse than when I saw the McClellans’ dog get hit by that cab. I quickly got used to the feeling.

Just that fall alone, I witnessed Mac making out with Empire Quinn, Sukie Moon, and Trinity Henry. Over the next three years, almost every time I saw him outside school, and half the time in school, he was welded to a different female’s face. Girls who didn’t even go to Park Prep waited on the steps to walk him home after class. And don’t even txt me about the rumors. As if the RL version of Mac weren’t bad enough, tales of his conquests, spoken in hushed awe, circulated the grades.

Did I know Rodriguez was dating two seniors at Bloomberg?

Did I hear Rodriguez “did it” on the great lawn of Prospect Park—during the day?

You can’t help who you’re attracted to? Baloney. Try harder. Luckily, our different focus tracks kept us on different floors of Park Prep. Yet for three years straight, Mac seemed to cross my path at least once a day up on three. And every time, he would tilt an imaginary hat or execute a tiny dance step for my amusement. And every time, I ignored him entirely.

By that point, I’d gotten a rep of my own—one for not dating.

Why would I? Never mind that growing up sharing the same search engine with a boy made the entire species lose much of its charm, but I mean, was Izel Kemp worth missing Model UN or not organizing the Walk for Paws benefit? President Malin didn’t have her first serious boyfriend until she was twenty-nine and had already won a congressional seat. President Malin didn’t get married until she was forty-two. I had loads of time to date.

That’s not to say I didn’t kiss a few other guys, or, like, flirt chat, but the only person I had any interest inserting an ounce of free time into was rumored to have inserted himself into just about everybody else.

Sorry. That was gross. I couldn’t help myself.

There was no way I was dating Mackenzie Rodriguez.

Plus, he never asked.

Until senior year.

Calling Mac, my Doc screen read, because txting was too imprecise and FaceAlerting wasn’t my friend between ten p.m. and ten a.m. Calling Mac, because ever since September, we’d talked every night right before we went to bed. Even if only for a minute. Without exception. Calling Mac, because tonight I didn’t want to hear Mac’s avatar’s voice via audio txt; I wanted to hear his voice voice and the adorable way he rolled his r’s. I quickly got my wish.

Este es Mackenzie Rodriguez. Hablame.

He’d sent me to voice mail. My pic had shown up on his Doc and he’d swiped it away. I hung up. Why bother leaving a message?

Mac’s silence pretty much said it all.





A little after one in the morning, my Doc buzzed. Instantly awake (barely asleep to begin with), I snatched it off my bureau. It had to be Audra. It wasn’t entirely rare for us to get annoyed at each other—actually of late it was all too common—but the great thing about us was that we didn’t hold grudges and our mini disputes never lasted more than five minutes at a time.

However, it had now been over thirteen hours since I’d heard from her. And every time I went to txt her, her avatar was red. For once her sleeplessness was working in my favor. Girlfriend insomniaced hard. If she wasn’t sleeping over and prodding me awake, she was doing it via txt. Rare was the night when I didn’t hear from her at all.

But when I glanced at my screen, my skin reprickled with chills that hadn’t fully left. It was definitely not Audra.

moi Why are you doing this to me?

[ ] Isn’t it obvious? To hurt you.