Free Awkward by Marni Bates

play chauffeur!” I felt like crap. The last thing she needed was more stress in her life. I’d have to make it up to her with more than a cup of coffee. She downed her drink while I ran through my schedule, searching for time I could spend vacuuming, sweeping, and Windexing—after school, tutoring, and homework, but before dinner.
    My mom’s eyes cleared with the coffee, sloughing off the gray mist that comes when she’s only half awake. I wish I had inherited my mom’s eyes, a clear blue, instead of my dad’s boring brown ones. Her flame red hair made me think of leprechauns dancing on gold.
    “Let’s go, then,” she said.
    There were no reporters lingering on our driveway or ankle deep in the lawn that was a continuous clump of weeds. Maybe the ReadySet thing wouldn’t be a big deal after all. That thought lasted until we pulled up to school.
    It was like the day before … only a billion times worse.
    “What the—”
    I didn’t let my mom finish. If I looked at the veritable sea of reporters, I might lose my nerve. I opened the door to make a run for it. Five feet from the car I was swallowed up in the jumble of business suits, cameras, and sound equipment. I spun in circles, desperately looking for someone I knew—someone to help me. I was panicky, naïve, and unprepared. A microphone was thrown in my face, and I clutched it as I searched for my exit.
    “Mackenzie, what size are you?”
    “Are you a ReadySet fan?”
    “Are you going to their concert Thursday night?”
    “Um.”
Too many questions!
“Size, uh, twelve, I think? Yeah, I like ReadySet. Who doesn’t? But I don’t have tickets. It’s probably sold out.”
    “Is it true you’re dating the lead singer, Timothy Goff?”
    “I’ve, uh, never even met the guy.” I was tempted to just drop the microphone and bolt, but I was afraid of being charged for any damages.
    “Mackenzie, what are you wearing?”
    I looked down at myself uncertainly. “Um, jeans?”
    “Do you have a favorite designer?”
    I stared at the reporter in disbelief. She looked so polished in a dark blue silk blouse and tailored suit pants. And she was asking
me
about fashion.
    “It’s from a garage sale,” I mumbled. “I don’t—”
    But there was a whole new set of questions.
    “Where do you want to go to college?”
    “Who’s your favorite celebrity?”
    “How does it feel to be ‘America’s Most Awkward Girl’?”
    “Are you seeing anyone right now?”
    I couldn’t process what I was hearing.
    “I’m sorry,” I said politely. “Really. I know you guys are just trying to do your jobs, but I need to get to class. And you’re freaking me out.” I blushed and focused on the microphone. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “But you want one of the Notables, not me.” I could have bitten my tongue off at the slip. “I don’t do designer clothes. I’ll never afford them. And with AP tests, tutoring, and high school, I can’t deal with all this
attention
.” I made it sound like the plague. “So thanks for your time, but I need to go now.”
    I was relieved to see a determined police officer wade her way through the cameras. She looked like a hero on a cop show, with her brisk, no-nonsense walk. She’d probably spent her career proving herself until she was the toughest cop in the area.
    She snaked out an arm to grasp my shoulder as we headed for one of the buildings. “Ignore them,” she instructed me as reporters kept yelling, “Mackenzie, who are the Notables?” and “Is it hard living in a single-parent home?” I saw her nod as other police officers moved in to enforce a media perimeter. A quick glance over my shoulder told me the media weren’t finished with their interviews. A whole circle of reporters listened to the Evil Trio. From the corner of my eye, I saw Chelsea toss her hair into a cascade of gold down her back. She’d look like a goddess while I looked like a geek. Not for the first time I wished Chelsea was famous instead of