Free Who is Mackie Spence? by Lin Kaymer

have a good time at Jennifer’s party?” Mom asks, as she returns to dicing the fruit.
    Setting my hands on the counter and leaning forward, I stretch my leg muscles. Lots of runners’ calf muscles cramp the day after racing and mine are getting there. Usually, eating something high in potassium, like a banana, helps.
    â€œOh, yeah, it was okay. Jen put on some old Dance Station.” Luckily, Mom has heard abbreviated answers for years about what I do on the weekends.
    â€œHmmm. Well, what’s going on with everyone? Is anyone dating?”
    â€œMom, people don’t date anymore.” I pause to reconsider. “Well, Jon and Erica are sort of seeing each other, but you know, that’s different.”
    â€œDifferent? How?” she quizzes, looking up from chopping the fruit.
    â€œThey’ve liked each other since grade school. Everyone figures they’ll end up an old married couple.”
    â€œAn old married couple,” Mom repeats with a chuckle. “Right.” She turns to push melon rinds into our composting pail.
    Moving out of my stretch, I slide into a pair of worn flip-flops by the kitchen door before turning to the oversized calendar on the bulletin board. The kitchen calendar shows all of our daily schedules.
    â€œAre we marking up October today?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.
    â€œYes. You finish with cross-country soon, right?”
    â€œYeah. And I don’t think Olivia will change my hours.”
    â€œFine. Are you doing homework, or do you want to help with breakfast?”
    â€œHomework, I guess,” I respond. There isn’t much choice. I have lots to read.
    â€œOkay. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to eat.” Mom waves me off.
    â€œYou know I’m going to the shelter around two o’clock, right?”
    She nods and hands Justin a piece of cantaloupe to eat. He sends me a big grin, like he’s just been awarded top prize.
    Moving gingerly up the stairs, I try to get myself in study mode. My French, English, and history classes require extra time because I read slowly. I never have to spend nearly as much time on my chemistry or algebra homework. But my incentive to study that morning isn’t nearly as strong as my desire to review what happened with Mackie. And I’m beyond curious for another reason. What question does she want to ask me? I space out and nap.
    I jerk awake. With some relief, I hear Mom calling my name. It’s around noon. She’s made my favorites: pancakes, eggs, and fruit. After the meal I try to read more. Finally, at one forty-five I stroll to the wildlife shelter. I’ve packed in a lot of food and do not feel like running. It’s enough to enjoy the light-blue sky and crisp, fall breeze.
    Entering through the shelter’s front door, I enjoy the memory of lying next to Mackie on her bed. My daydream is cut off when the door opens again. Mrs. Vartan and Dru McKibbon have arrived. We’ve been the Sunday afternoon team for the last eight months.
    Like many of our shelter’s volunteers, Mrs. Vartan is old, maybe over sixty. After her first husband died, she used to sail in all kinds of weather to her son’s home on the north end. In the summer, they played croquet on the lawn and she’d take her grandson to the beach to skip stones.
    Both of my grandmothers died when I was still a baby, so I enjoyed listening when she recounted taking young Hughie aboard her 24-foot sailboat, the two of them playing pirate as they sailed up and down Locke’s Pass, raising their Jolly Roger flag, and waving to people on the shoreline. That would have been outstanding.
    Dru is my age, but homeschooled, so I don’t know her well. She started volunteering at the shelter a year ago. Occasionally the distress of the animals gets to her, but animals in pain get to all of us.
    We review the day’s workload. It’s pretty light. No new injury admissions except