Don't Even Think About It

by Sarah Mlynowski

  He was always nice to her. Even when she wasn’t nice back.

  She knew she should be nicer to him. He definitely deserved it.

  Mackenzie nodded to herself and to Cooper. She would do it. She would get the needle. She would do it because he wanted her to. She owed him, even if he didn’t know it. The needle would be her punishment.

  Back then, we didn’t know she was punishing herself, or for what.

  Now we know everything. Even the stuff we try to forget. Especially the stuff we try to forget.

  Cooper squeezed Mackenzie’s shoulder. “Then I’ll get you a root beer float as a reward.”

  We were allowed to leave school for lunch. But we only had forty minutes, so we couldn’t go far.

  “Can we go to Takahachi instead?” Mackenzie asked. “I’m craving salmon rolls.”

  Sushi wasn’t Cooper’s first choice, since his mom ordered it every night. He was gluten intolerant, so there weren’t too many options for him to eat—but he was a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. “Why don’t we pick up Takahachi and then eat it at your place?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. She lived a block away. No one was ever home.

  “We’re not going to have enough time for both after the vaccines,” Mackenzie said. “Maybe tomorrow?”

  Cooper was fine waiting until the next day. But he wondered if it was really going to happen then. They’d barely hooked up since he’d been back from camp. He wondered if Mackenzie was avoiding him. Although that didn’t make sense—they hung out all day together at school. Why would she avoid him after hours? Did she not want to be alone with him?

  The nurse’s door opened. BJ came out. He had failed in his groping mission.

  We all hoped Nurse Carmichael had stuck his arm with the needle really hard.

  Jordana went in, barely bothering to look up from her nails.

  We waited.

  A few minutes later she came out looking dazed. “That was miserable,” she announced. She was holding a red lollipop.

  Olivia was up. She stepped eagerly toward the door. She was a big believer in vaccinations. To prevent the flu. To prevent typhoid. If only they had one to prevent social anxiety, she’d be all set.

  “You really shouldn’t do it,” Renée said to Olivia.

  “I’ll be fine,” Olivia said. She usually followed Renée’s lead, but she couldn’t in this case.

  Renée sighed, looking slightly confused that Olivia wasn’t listening to her. “All right. If you insist. I’m going to the cafeteria. Meet me there and we’ll talk to Lazar.”

  Olivia’s stomach clenched. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that. But she said okay and then went inside the nurse’s office.

  Mackenzie took a deep breath. She was next.

  “Hey, Mackenzie,” piped up Tess. “Do you need me to help you with any Sweet stuff after school?”

  Unlike her bestie, Tess was no gymnast. Or dancer. Tess was a writer. Not a professional one—not yet—but she thought that maybe one day she could be. For now she volunteered for Bloom, the school’s twice-yearly arts journal. Tess had wavy brown hair and brown eyes and was well aware that she was ten pounds—eight pounds on a good day—overweight. She was well aware because her mother told her daily and not so subtly. “Why don’t you go to SoulCycle, Tess?” “Are you sure you should be having that ice cream sandwich, Tess?” “You should try your bagel scooped, Tess.” “I’d give you my old cute Kate Spade dress but I think it would be too tight on you, Tess.” Tess tried to think of her mom’s incessant nagging as white noise. White noise that would one day give her more to write about.

  For now Tess was looking forward to Mackenzie’s Sweet. The party was going to be epic. She was proud that the first Sweet of their class was her best friend’s. Mackenzie’s birthday was earlier than everyone else’s because her parents had held her back a year, since she was a preemie.

  It was going to be at the Soho Tower, which was one of those celebrity hotel hot spots constantly mentioned on TMZ. Tess was psyched. She had already bought a dress at BCBG.

  “The event planner has it covered,” Mackenzie said to Tess with a flip of her hair. “But you can come over if you want.”

  “Sure,” Tess replied.

  Olivia came out a few seconds later.

  “We’re up,” Cooper said turning to Mackenzie. “Ready to show the needle who’s boss?”

  Mackenzie hesitated.

  “Come on,” Tess said. “It’ll hurt for a second and then you’ll be done.”

  Mackenzie turned to Olivia. “Did it hurt?”

  Olivia flushed.

  Mackenzie waited for a response but eventually realized she wasn’t getting one. Weirdo. She turned to Cooper. “Let’s just do this,” she said, and the two of them disappeared into the nurse’s office.

  CHAPTER THREE

  OUCH

  Olivia looked at her reflection in the first-floor girls’ bathroom mirror. When Mackenzie had asked her whether the vaccination hurt, she opened her mouth to say it was fine; great, even! But then she realized how insane she’d sound. Sure, she liked vaccinations, they made her feel safe and protected, but was she really going to announce that? That was not a normal thing to say. So she stood there, not responding. Which did not help in the looking-normal department.

  Olivia sighed.

  On the plus side, it had been nice to see Nurse Carmichael. Olivia and Nurse Carmichael were old friends.

  Okay, not friends-friends. But in truth Olivia felt more comfortable in the nurse’s office than she did in the cafeteria.

  She was in the infirmary a lot.

  Like, a lot, a lot.

  At least twice a week.

  Anytime Olivia had a cough, or a stomachache, or a hangnail, she went straight to Nurse Carmichael. Just to make sure it wasn’t cancer. Or a heart attack. Or lymphangioleiomyomatosis disease. Which, sure, only affected one out of a million people, but it started with a cough, and if you were the one out of a million, then you were done-like-dinner within the year.

  Olivia’s father had had a heart attack when he was forty-two. Olivia had been ten. One minute they were a happy family shopping at Roosevelt Field mall; the next minute he was clutching his chest and lying on the grimy food-court floor. He was dead by the time they got to the hospital.

  After that, Olivia avoided food courts. And malls. And Long Island. Her mom felt the same way—they sold their house in the suburbs and moved a few blocks from her mom’s job at American Express in downtown NYC.

  Olivia found Nurse Carmichael’s office, with the clean white walls and posters reminding us about the dangers of meningitis, comforting.

  When she’d walked in to get her shot, Olivia had said hi, Nurse Carmichael had asked how she was, Olivia’d said she had a small headache but was otherwise fine, Olivia’d stuck out her arm, she’d gotten the shot, and Nurse Carmichael had slapped on a Band-Aid and told her she’d see her soon.

  Olivia had no doubt that was true.

  Then Olivia had chosen a green lollipop.

  She waited until she walked away from Mackenzie and the rest of us before unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. She hadn’t wanted to look stupid sucking on it.

  But now Olivia stared at her green lips and mouth in the bathroom mirror and realized she looked ridiculous. Why had she chosen green? Why why why? She looked like a sea monster. Or the Hulk.

  She leaned over and rinsed her mouth with water. The green color stuck.

  There was no way she was going to the cafeteria to talk to you know who. She wasn’t going to talk to anyone that day. She wasn’t even going to open her mouth that day if she could help it. Or the next day.

  Oh no. No, no, no.

  She had to open her mouth the next day. She had her speech! At eleven! What if the green didn’t come out in time? What if it never came out? She held on to the edge of the sink, feeling dizzy, wishing she were anywhere but there.

  * * *

  Mackenzie watched as Nurse Carmichael and her g
iant needle crossed the room, heading straight for her.

  “Cooper, you have to go first,” Mackenzie said.

  He pulled up his sleeve and made himself comfortable on the nurse’s chair.

  Nurse Carmichael aimed the needle at him. It was about to attack him. Any second. It was coming closer.

  Mackenzie tried to look away. Must look away. Couldn’t look away.

  She definitely should have looked away.

  “ARGH!!!!!”

  That was Mackenzie, not Cooper. Cooper barely felt it. It was like a mosquito bite when you knew to expect a mosquito bite. And mosquito bites didn’t get to Cooper. Nothing got to Cooper.

  “Easy peasy,” he said as the nurse pressed a Band-Aid against his arm.

  Mackenzie saw the room swim in front of her. “I don’t feel well. If I’m sick, I can’t get the shot, right?”

  “Not if you have a temperature,” the nurse said.

  Mackenzie nodded. “I am pretty sure I have a fever.”

  Nurse Carmichael laughed and shook her shoulder-length brown hair. “I’ll check it just in case.”

  The nurse pulled out the no-mouth thermometer she always used, the kind that scanned our foreheads, and took Mackenzie’s temperature.

  It beeped.

  “No fever,” Nurse Carmichael said.

  “Damn it.”

  “You don’t have to get the shot if you don’t want to,” the nurse said. “It’s voluntary.”

  Mackenzie could have walked out.

  We all could have walked out. Every single one of us could have turned around and walked right out the door and never looked back.

  Would have, could have. Should have?

  Didn’t.

  “No.” Mackenzie took a shaky breath. “Just give me the stupid shot.” She flailed her right arm out.

  The nurse rolled up the arm of Mackenzie’s black cashmere sweater.

  “Ow!”

  The nurse laughed. “That was just the alcohol.”

  Cooper squeezed her knee. “Close your eyes. Imagine something good. Like lunch tomorrow.”

  Mackenzie could do that. She closed her eyes. Imagined Cooper’s lips. He did have great lips. Pink. Like he was wearing lipstick even though he wasn’t. Plump. The top slightly plumper than the bottom.

  But then another pair of lips crowded into her brain.

  Bennett’s lips.

  There was a stab in her arm. Ouch.

  She deserved it. She deserved the pain.

  “You’re done,” the nurse said.

  Mackenzie didn’t want to open her eyes. Didn’t want to face Cooper.

  “Babe?” Cooper said. “We’re done.”

  We would be, she thought, if you knew what I did. But you never will.

  She opened her eyes.

  “Don’t forget your lollipop,” Nurse Carmichael said.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  OCTOBER З

  Today was the day. Not that Olivia knew it was THE day. At the time, she just thought it was speech day.

  Three hours and forty-five minutes to go.

  In the fifth grade, back on Long Island, Olivia had been cast as an extra in the school play. She only had one line. One single line. She practiced that line in the shower. In her room. In her backyard. But on the night of the one-liner, she stood onstage while expectant faces stared up at her, and her mind went blank. Empty. Wiped clean. She couldn’t breathe. Black spots swam in front of her eyes. The rest of the cast tried to usher her off the stage, but she couldn’t move. She’d just stood there. Frozen. Like a sad, melting Popsicle.

  Clearly, there were no Tony Awards in her future.

  As if she would ever voluntarily step on a stage again. Thanks, but no thanks.

  She rehearsed her speech in the shower. “In Ridgefield, Connecticut, Jamie Fields was innocently walking barefoot across her lawn. Little did she know that she was also about to get Lyme disease.”

  Jamie Fields was a real person. A real dead-from-Lyme-disease person.

  Olivia had chosen Lyme disease as her topic because after years of living with and being a hypochondriac, she was a champ at researching diseases, and this was one disease she was unlikely to contract, since she lived in downtown Manhattan.

  She practiced while she got dressed.

  She practiced on her way to the kitchen, clutching her notes.

  “Morning!” her mom called out. “Are you okay, honey? You look pale.”

  Her mother always thought she looked pale.

  She was pale. She had straight dark brown hair and pale skin. You’d think while she was growing up, her favorite fairy-tale character would have been the similarly toned Snow White, but Olivia had never been able to relate to anyone who took food from strangers.

  “I’m fine,” Olivia snapped, but then she felt bad. “I’m fine,” she said again in a softer tone.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” her mom asked. “The flu vaccine sometimes gives you symptoms.”

  Olivia’s mom was a hypochondriac too. Her mom also had a not-so-mild case of OCD and severe anxiety. She washed her hands so often her knuckles bled. Olivia had inherited the hypochondria and anxiety but was thankfully still obsessive-compulsive free. She hoped it wouldn’t come with age.

  Olivia contemplated telling her mom that she was sick and staying home, but then she’d get dragged to the ER. And she knew she’d have to do the speech the next day anyway. She’d have to spend another entire day with the panic spreading down her body like an unstoppable rash. “I’m fine,” Olivia said, her voice shakier than she intended.

  “I poured you some juice,” her mom said. “And put some banana in your granola. And put a vitamin on your napkin.”

  “Thanks,” Olivia said, even though she was afraid that anything she ate would make her vomit.

  Instead, she ran through her speech. In Ridgefield, New York …

  Oh no. Not New York. Ridgefield was in Connecticut! She had forgotten where poor Jamie lived! If she couldn’t remember where Jamie had contracted the disease, how was she going to remember the rest?

  The clock said 8:02.

  Two hours and fifty-eight minutes to go.

  It was going to be a long morning.

  She brushed her teeth, made sure the green tint really was gone, grabbed her bag—and notes! She had to remember her notes! Ridgefield, Connecticut!—ran to the elevator, and slid inside. There was a senior from her school already in there. Emma Dassin. Emma didn’t say hi, so Olivia didn’t say it either.

  The rickety doors were about to close when Olivia heard, “Livvie! Livvie, hold on!”

  Olivia pressed the close button, but it was too late.

  Olivia’s mom stuck her hands between the doors. “You forgot your hat.” She held it out.

  “It’s October,” Olivia grumbled.

  “There’s a breeze! And you’re not feeling well. Take it.”

  She took it. Less embarrassing to just get it over with.

  “Have a great day! Be careful crossing Broadway!”

  At last the doors closed.

  Olivia stared at her gray woolen hat. She didn’t want a cold. But on top of everything else, she could not worry about having staticky hair.

  She stuck it in her backpack just as the doors opened onto the lobby.

  * * *

  Homeroom. Two and a half hours before Olivia’s speech.

  “What’s the worst that happens?” Renée asked her.

  The worst? She saw it play out in her head. She would be standing in front of the class, everyone’s eyes on her. Her heart rate would skyrocket. She’d be gasping for air. She’d see spots. She’d pass out and probably die.

  Yes, die.

  Olivia just shook her head.

  “Why don’t you imagine everyone in the class naked,” Renée said. “Especially Lazar.”

  Olivia did not want to think about Lazar naked. She did not want to think about Lazar at all. Knowing there was a guy in her class who was potentially
interested in her made everything worse. She picked her thumb.

  BJ twisted back in his seat. “Did you say ‘naked’?”

  “Olivia has to present in public speaking,” Renée said. “I think she should imagine everyone in the class naked.”

  “I always imagine everyone naked. I’m doing it right now.” He looked from Olivia to Renée. “You both look pretty good.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Renée said, but Olivia couldn’t help noticing that she stuck out her chest.

  Cooper sang his way in. “What’s happening, 10B?”

  “We’re imagining each other naked,” Renée said.

  “Excellent,” Cooper said, striking a He-Man pose.

  Olivia smiled. Then she wished he were in her public speaking class. Not so she could picture him naked—just so he could make her laugh.

  “All you have to do is focus on me,” Renée said, since she was in Olivia’s public speaking class. “Ignore everyone else.”

  Olivia was pretty sure that wouldn’t help. Renée was an amazing speaker. She didn’t even need notes. She just talked. And talked and talked and talked.

  Ms. Velasquez strolled in. “Who’s here today? Adam? You’re back. Good.”

  “I missed my vaccination yesterday—should I get it today?” he asked.

  “Yes. At lunch.”

  Olivia looked at her watch. It read eight-forty-five. Two hours and fifteen minutes until her speech.

  * * *

  It was time. Ridgefield, Connecticut. Tick bites. Bull’s-eye rash.

  “Olivia Byrne, you’re up,” Mr. Roth said. It didn’t help that he was the scariest teacher in school both in attitude and physical appearance. He weighed about four hundred pounds, was over six feet tall, and had a permanent scowl on his face. He looked like a troll, if trolls were also giants.

  Focus. Speech. Lyme disease.

  She stood up. Her legs felt gummy. Her heart beat a gazillion miles an hour. She was 99 percent sure everyone could hear it.

  Olivia remembered that irregular heartbeat was a symptom of Lyme disease. She definitely had an irregular heartbeat. Maybe she had Lyme disease after all. Maybe she’d willed it on herself. Was that possible? Was she contagious? Maybe she needed to be quarantined immediately.