"But then I saw him on the street, and I overheard him telling a friend that I was 'nobody.' But he'd been really nice and—"
"Oh, you have been busy."
"He acts really nice, but based on what he told his friend—"
"Wait." Macey stopped me. "He said that to a friend? Another guy?"
"Yes."
"And you believed him?" She rolled her eyes. "Total hearsay. Could be posturing, could be territory marking, could be shame over liking the new weird chick—I'm assuming he thinks you're a weird chick?"
"He thinks I'm homeschooled for religious reasons."
"Yeah," she said, nodding as if that were answer enough. "I'd say you've still got a shot."
OH. MY. GOSH. It was as if the gray storm clouds had parted and Macey McHenry was the sun, bringing wisdom and truth into the eternal darkness. (Or something a lot less melodramatic.)
Just in case you missed my point: Macey McHenry knows about boys!! Of course, this shouldn't have come as a huge, colossal surprise, but I couldn't help myself; I was groveling at her feet, worshipping at the altar of eyeliner, push-up bras, and coed parties without parental supervision.
Even Liz said, "That's amazing."
"You've got to help me," I pleaded.
"Oooh, sorry. Not my department."
Of course it wasn't. It was clear that Macey McHenry was the lurkee, not the lurker. She couldn't possibly understand life on the outside, looking through the window at a place she'd never know. Then I thought about the hours she'd spent locked away in the silence of those headphones and wondered, or could she?
Before me stood a person who was capable of cracking the Y chromosome code, and I wasn't going to let her get away that easily.
"Come on!" I said.
"Yeah, well tell it to someone who isn't the freaking mascot of the seventh-freaking-grade!" She eased onto her bed and crossed her legs. "So there is only one way that I am going to care about your boy problems."
Work brain, work, I urged my mind, but it was like a car stuck in the mud.
"I'm getting out of the newbie classes," Macey said. "And you're going to help me."
I really didn't like the sound of this, but I still managed to ask, "What's in it for me?"
"For starters, I don't have a conversation with our friend Jessica Boden about an early morning trip to the labs with an old Dr Pepper bottle, or a late-night trip outside the grounds, where someone came home with leaves in her hair." She smirked at Liz. "Or a certain Driver's Ed incident."
For the first time, I didn't doubt that Macey was a Gallagher Girl, too. The looks Liz and Bex were giving me said that they agreed.
"Did you know Jessica's mother is a trustee?" Macey said, her voice dripping with sarcastic irony. "See, Jessica's mentioned that fact to me about a hundred and fifty times now and—"
"Okay, already," I said, stopping her. "What else do I get?"
"A soul mate."
"Ladies, this is a business of alliances," Mr. Solomon said as he stood in front of our class the next morning. "You may not like these people. You may hate these people. These people may represent everything you hate, but all it takes is one thing, ladies—one thread of commonality to form a bond in our lives." He strolled back to his desk. "To make an ally."
So that's what I had with Macey—an alliance. We weren't friends; we weren't enemies. I wasn't exactly blocking off Fourth of July weekend to spend at her place in the Hamptons, but I planned on playing nice just the same.
When lunchtime rolled around, Macey strolled over to our table, and I braced myself for what was going to happen. If the Communists and the Capitalists could fight together to take down the Nazis … I told myself. If Spike could fight alongside Buffy to rid the world of demons … If lemon could join forces with lime to create something as delicious and refreshing as Sprite, then surely I can work alongside Macey McHenry for the cause of true love!
She was sitting beside me. She was eating pie. I had to look again. Macey's eating pie?! And then she actually spoke, but I couldn't hear her over the roar of a nearby debate (in Korean) about whether Jason Bourne could take James Bond, and if it mattered whether it was Sean-Connery-Bond or Pierce-Brosnan-Bond.
"Did you say something, Macey?" I asked, but she cut me a look that could kill. She reached into her bag, ripped off a sliver of Evapopaper, and scribbled: