Dancing with the Devil

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Mackenzie slammed the door shut and bounded up to the front of the classroom. She heaved a bulging backpack off her shoulder and dumped it on a front row desk. Three textbooks and the two full liter bottles of water that Mac always carried, but never drank, slid out. Banging on the desk with her fist, she announced, “I move that the Bike Geek meeting come to order.”

          Charlie leapt up from his seat and picked up the bottles, one in each hand. “What’s the deal, Skater?” he asked Mackenzie as he curled them like weights. “Aren’t you buff enough?”

          She turned to face him, eye to eye. They were the same height, but with opposite coloring; Mac’s straight white blond hair hit her chin at the same spot Charlie’s blue-black curls met his. His dark, almost black eyes twinkled, laughing at her, while her cornflower blues gave nothing away. She wouldn’t let him get to her. He folded his arms in an effort to make his shoulders appear broader than hers, but carrying around two liters of water every day does work its wonders, and she inhaled and matched him.

          Mac took the bottles and shoved them back in her pack. She blew her bangs off her forehead and, ignoring Charlie’s question, sat on the desk and counted everyone who was there. “Dante, don’t start the minutes of the meeting until Otis gets here, okay? He’s on his way. We need to go over my application to get certified, and he forgot the papers.”

         “Why would anyone ever go to some bike mechanic boot camp to learn something you already know how to do?” Charlie said. “It’s a waste of time.”

          “Hey, you’re the one who wants to work at the shop,” Mac answered. “Get serious about getting your license and maybe Otis will get serious about hiring you. Besides, with my license, I’ll be able to earn big cake doing race mechanics.”

“I can’t even apply to get into the workshop if I don’t have the hours at a shop, and if he won’t let me work there how can I get the hours?…” Charlie waved her off with his hand. “I might as well forget it. It’s a vicious cycle.”

The girl slouching in a back row seat guffawed. 

“What, Frankie?” Charlie looked back at her. She twirled a long dreadlock around her neck, covering both the dashes tattooed there as well as the words “cut on the dotted line” inked beneath them. 

She said, “Dude, why don’t you open your own shop? You can call it The Vicious Cycle.” 

He squinted at her for a split second before turning to face the front to loudly ignore her. “Can we just start the meeting? It’s already 3:45, and I want time to ride to Hudson and back before dinner.” Charlie was doing his best imitation of politeness. Frankie snorted.

Charlie turned to her and frowned. “What now, Frankie? You don’t think I can?”

“Depends how late you eat dinner,” she said.

“How are you going to get to Vermont and back wearing those baggies, Charlie?” Dante teased, “Isn’t it like riding with a parachute brake?” Dante had no problem wearing spandex. 

 “Just ’cause I don’t wear that road rider crap doesn’t mean I’m not for real.” Charlie blew a kiss to Dante. “However, for you, the spandex is probably a perk.”

“If you were serious, dude, you’d at least shave. You’re dragging air with those bush legs you got,” Frankie said.

“It’s too queer,” said Charlie. “No offense, Dante.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, darling,” Dante said, blowing a kiss back at Charlie.

Frankie heaved a huge sigh and shushed everyone. “Mac, since we can’t start before Otis gets here, why don’t you tell us about the bike?” She gestured for Mac to move on.