Chapter Eleven Oh Yeah, the Plan
Mal had worried, reading over the joint e-mail Emerson had sent, that Open Hours would mean open season on their time.
That all of the MixxedMedia staff would flood into the back room of the Haus as if it were the halls of Holmes High, all noise and crumbs and (at least in Stella’s case) sassy things to say.
That Mal would never get anything done again.
(They had worried, too, that the staff would now associate them with that many exclamation points when it was clearly not their style.)
But in reality, it just meant that periodically, people who weren’t Emerson joined Mal in the back room.
Which was, Mal was surprised to find, kind of nice.
They were surprised too to learn that everyone was a little different outside of school.
Nylan had been quiet and studious in the science class they’d shared junior year, but she was perky and loud when she worked in the back room, and she had great opinions on music and—much to Parker’s delight—anime and cosplay.
Parker, already a ball of energy, was somehow even more energetic when she stopped in on Wednesday before her Secrets a button-down they’d stolen from their dad’s closet last summer; a thick thrifted cardigan; and their pair of thrifted Docs.
While it all went together in theory, in practice all the colors clashed, making it look like Mal had gotten dressed in the dark in the year 1997.
They shrugged. “Fair.”
“Late night again, huh?” Maddie asked.
“Yeah, we’re getting close to crunch time for this first issue,” Mal said. “And Emerson had a thing last night, so I wanted to get some behind-the-scenes stuff done without all her chatter.”
Mal didn’t mention that they had actually missed said chatter. They left out, too, that they had toasted a pair of Pop-Tarts just for the smell of it, to remind them of Emerson in her absence. Mal smiled thinking of it. But then—
“Shit,” they swore. “That worksheet for fucking Hamlet is due today, isn’t it?”
“Fucking Hamlet,” repeated Maddie, and she giggled. “Yeah, it is. Why?”
“I need to copy yours.” Feeling even more rushed, Mal picked up their pace so they could get to school with time to do it. “I didn’t get mine done last night.”
Maddie shrugged. “Sure, but it’s pretty easy. Fill-in-the-blank character stuff. If you’ve done the reading, you could do it yourself in like two seconds.”
Mal went quiet, walking faster.
“You’ve done the reading, right?” Maddie asked.
Mal said nothing for another beat, then confessed, “I haven’t.”
“Mal.”
“I’m so tired of reading about rich, straight, white men and their angst!
Like it’s some epic drama. Please.” Mal threw up their hands.
“Plus, I’ve been really busy with MixxedMedia stuff, and I just—” Mal almost said forgot, but that wasn’t true.
The number of pages they were meant to have read each day haunted them in the moments before falling asleep, the red triple-underlined notes in their planner lurking in the back of their mind. “I haven’t wanted to do it.”
It was a little more honest than Mal meant to be. Even the words leaving their lips felt like a rebellion. But it was true: They hadn’t, not when there was interesting work to be done for the zine—and there was always work to be done for the zine lately.
“I get you,” Maddie said graciously. “I do.” But the look she gave them was so careful Mal could feel it on their skin as the siblings walked side by side. They couldn’t tell whether it was Maddie’s gaze or the autumn breeze making their cheeks feel cold.
“It’s just unusual for you to blow off English homework,” she finally said after half a block filled only with the huff of Mal speed-walking. “If it was math, sure, whatever, but English is your thing, Mal.”
Mal shrugged.
“Just—are you okay?”
“Yes.” Mal didn’t even have to think about it, because this was the only acceptable answer.
“It’s a bit of a crunch right now is all,” they went on, when Maddie grew quiet again beside them. “Everything will calm down after. And it’s only one assignment.”
This was only one assignment, at least. There was also about two weeks’ worth of math homework, half of Hamlet waiting unread at the bottom of their backpack, and…
whatever was going on with this outfit. Still, they nodded firmly at Maddie—and at themself.
As much as it was Mal’s job to show up for Maddie, they knew it was Maddie’s job to make sure they stayed on track.
And they would! They’d get back on top of things. They wouldn’t let her down.
“Next weekend is the zine layout party, so I’ll be a little weird until that’s over, but after, I’ll be back to normal. Pinkie promise.”
Mal held out their pinkie to their sister. Maddie considered it for a while. Then, reaching out, she hooked her pinkie through Mal’s, catching it despite how it bobbed from walking too fast.
“Okay, deal. I’ll wait until after next weekend to worry about you,” she said, her grin light and playful. “You’ve got until after my game next Saturday.”
Mal blinked, their pinkie still looped with Maddie’s even as they got closer to the front gates of school. “Your what?”
Maddie laughed, clearly thinking Mal was joking. When Mal didn’t laugh back, she said, “The first game of the season? Next Saturday? Literally on that field right over”—with the hand still awkwardly joined to Mal’s, she gestured at the soccer field at the far end of the grounds—“there?”
“Shit,” said Mal.
They dropped Maddie’s pinkie and, turning awkwardly on the spot, flung their backpack around so they could unzip it. Digging out their planner, they flipped to this weekend’s spread.
“I didn’t write it down,” they said.
“What?” Maddie asked, confusion clear in her voice.
Mal tapped their Saturday, which was covered entirely with notes: lists of things to do for the zine, who was responsible for which part of the layout, which snack would be brought by which person.
It was flagged, too, with several Post-it notes of various neon colors covered in Emerson’s untidy scrawl, some of them functional (REMEMBER TO brING GLUE STICKS!
!!) and others less so (a bad doodle of Prince Pringles holding a coffee mug).
There was only enough time for all these things because Mal had requested time off at Dollar City for a reason they couldn’t remember.
Wait.
Mal pulled one of the Post-it notes back, the one that reminded them so supportively it bordered on aggressive that You! Can! Do! It!!! There, in black ink and handwriting much neater than the frantic scribbles they’d made over the course of this week, was written: MADDIE—HOME GAME—NOON.
That must have been the reason Mal had requested time off.
“Shit, Maddie, I’m sorry,” they said in a rush. “I—well, it—” They gestured at the mess of their notes. “It got lost under all this.”
Maddie stopped walking just shy of the school’s gate. For a moment, her face flashed with a look so disappointed Mal could see the shades of their mom in their sister’s features. Their stomach dropped. They had put that look there.
But it was gone just as quickly, replaced with a smile that even Mal could recognize was not entirely genuine. Maddie shrugged. “That’s usually the plan is all. You always come to my games.”
The Plan. In the rush of everything, Mal had strayed from The Plan.
That was supposed to be the point of all this: to keep it together long enough to follow Maddie out of town.
But they’d gotten so caught up in the coffee- and Pop-Tart-scented world of MixxedMedia that they had forgotten to even follow Maddie to her first game of the season.
They could kick themself. And they would, later, zoning out in Mrs. Grimes’s class. But right now, they had to make this better.
“I’m so sorry, Maddie,” they said first. And then: “I will be there, I promise.”
“No, I—” Maddie started and then stopped, letting her false smile slip into a frown.
Mal couldn’t tell whether it was at them or herself.
“I’m really excited for you and the zine.
Like, really really. It’s cool to see you…
I don’t know, doing things again. So if you need to be there, be there, okay?
I don’t want to make things harder for you, Mal. ”
“You? Never.” Everything else? Maybe. But never Maddie. “I’ll be there with bells on. Pinkie promise.”
Mal held out their pinkie again. Maddie considered it, her face still pulled down in all the wrong ways. But finally, a small smile curled the corner of her lips.
“That’s two in one day,” she said.
“Because I’m super serious.” Mal nodded. “About both things. I am fully holding it down, and I will be at your game.”
Maddie took Mal’s pinkie again.
“Good. Now hurry up; you have homework to copy.”
She walked on again, her steps quick. And Mal hurried after her.