Chapter Sixteen Sell, Sell, Sell!
The MixxedMedia staff waited at the wall outside of Holmes High School, looking distinctly like they were up to something.
It was a bright day but with a breeze that cut through Mal’s thrifted sweater as they walked up the sidewalk, Maddie in step beside them.
It felt like a fall morning should: cool and correct and littered with reddish-brown leaves, which crunched satisfyingly beneath Mal’s boots.
The school had finally decorated for the season, leaning two giant bunches of cornstalks up against either side of the historic stone gate at the top of the driveway, a trio of giant orange pumpkins at the base of each one.
One had already been smashed open; Mal had to dodge around its bright orange guts.
“Here they are!” Parker said as Mal drew close.
“Sweet,” Emerson said, “we can get to work. I’ve been waiting.”
“Hi, Mal,” said Stella, her voice bored until she saw Maddie behind them. “Oh, Maddie! Are you joining the zine?”
“Nope,” she said. “Just walking in with Mal.”
“Okay then, just remember, you’re not seeing anything,” said Parker. “Come on, Mal, give us the goods.”
“I only have half of them,” Mal said, slinging their backpack off their shoulder and rubbing the sore spot it left behind. “Emerson has the other.”
“You’ve been holding out on us?” Nylan sounded incredulous.
Emerson just wiggled, all fluid arms and legs, in response.
“Nah, it’s cool,” said Kodi. “We couldn’t have started without Mal.”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t have been right,” James agreed.
“Suck-ups,” said Stella.
“You don’t even have to be here,” Parker said under her breath.
Mal and Emerson started to divvy up the zines as the staffers swirled around them, laughing, chatting, and making bets on who would sell out first. Though Mal had tried to Manage Expectations when they shared the sales plan with everyone the day before—another capital-letter coping mechanism from their old therapist—they had to admit that they felt excited, too.
Emerson had something to do with that, they were sure: her giggle, her grin, the way her green sweatshirt made her big red hair look even redder than the leaves drifting down from the poplar tree above her.
“Okay, weird confession,” Kodi said, her voice deeper as it dropped to a whisper. “I’m a little nervous?”
“Oh no, me too, for sure,” Nylan said. “This is all very… clandestine.”
“You mean punk rock,” chirped Emerson. “But, full honesty—same.”
“Me too,” said Parker, “but that could be because I’m still sleepy?”
“Because you and Nylan were up all night liveblogging Yuri!!! on ICE to each other,” James said, eyebrows raising.
“I’m not,” said Stella. “Nervous, that is.”
Mal rolled their eyes; Stella was the only staffer they hadn’t handed copies to because it was (her words) “not worth the risk to go down for some zine.”“Well, I think we’re all going to kill it,” said Emerson. “Nervous or not.”
“And remember, it’s not a competition,” Mal said.
“For some of us,” Emerson added conspiratorially.
Mal gave her The Look. “For any of us. Just do what you can today. We have time. If we can be mostly sold through by the end of the week, I think we’ll be right on target.
” That was the time frame, at least, that they’d used for Collage.
Mal tried not to think about what it would mean if they didn’t meet it.
“We can do that,” said Kodi, sounding more confident.
“Totally,” said Nylan.
“I’m selling out today,” James said matter-of-factly. “When we meet back here after school, I’ll be done.”
“Oh, he’s on a mission today, y’all,” Kodi joked.
“We should head to class,” said Parker, eyeing the entrance.
“Regrettably,” added Emerson.
“Okay, if you need more, remember you can check in with me or Emerson,” Mal said. “I’ll have extras in my locker.”
They all turned to head in, Mal following a few steps behind everyone as they tucked the rest of the zines in their backpack.
It was only when they’d made it about halfway to the entrance that Mal remembered, turning around quickly.
Maddie still stood there. She smiled.
“Look at you, hotshot,” she said, from twelve steps away.
“What? No.” Mal waved a hand, dismissive. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s okay.” Maddie finally caught up. “It’s neat to see you in action.”
“It’s nothing, really,” Mal replied quickly.
Their sister smiled, a little sadly, then shook her head to herself. “It’s super cool, Mal. You’re, like, really good at this.”
Mal’s first instinct was to dismiss this; these weren’t words they heard often. But… hearing them felt nice, especially from their sister, who knew Mal at their Least Good At Things. “You mean it?”
Maddie held out her pinkie. “Pinkie promise.”
“Really?”
“I don’t mess around, Mal. You know me.”
Mal smiled and linked their pinkie with Maddie’s.
“I can almost see why you keep ditching me for this stuff,” Maddie said, still smiling, but with a hint of something else, something resigned, underneath.
Mal’s smile faltered. “I don’t mean to.”
“I know,” Maddie said, giving herself a little shake. “And you’re not. I just miss you lately is all.”
It was a strange thing to say for two siblings who slept down the hall from each other every night, but Mal felt it too—a lonesome longing, a certain shift they couldn’t quite pin down. They nodded. “I miss you too.”
A quiet moment opened in the space between them.
“Come on,” Mal finally said. “We can’t be late for school.”
“Coming,” Maddie said, and rushed to catch up.
When they got to the front doors, they went their separate ways.
Mal hadn’t been lying about sales being slow.
They hadn’t been trying to soften a blow or to motivate people.
They were much too upfront for that. Slow sales were just the truth, something they’d learned from long weeks of trying to sell Collage to classmates at lunch.
People picked food over fine arts every time.
And so, when Mal sold through four of their first ten copies in first period, they were surprised.
And when they had had to dip into their second bundle by the end of third, they were a little suspicious.
And when Emerson bounced by them in the hallway before lunch, saying she couldn’t talk because Nylan needed a restock too, Mal was downright confused.
It wasn’t supposed to be this easy.
But as Mal met Maddie on the way to the cafeteria, their backpack was light on MixxedMedia issues and heavy on pocket change.
Though most folks had paid for their copies with wrinkled dollar bills, many had paid in silver coins, and at least one issue had been bought with four rolls of pennies that looked suspiciously similar to the ones student council rolled from penny wars (a spare change donation drive to see which class could bring in the most pennies).
After a girl from Mal’s chemistry class stopped them in the lunch line, they added another fistful of coins to their backpack.
“Are you, like, famous now, Mal?” Maddie joked.
“I… don’t know?”
The real answer was no, that was Maddie’s job—to be in the spotlight. But Mal did feel at least a little seen by the two other students who quickly snuck over to their lunch table for an issue.
As they chewed through a stack of Tater Tots, they tried to figure out why.
Why people kept wanting copies. Why they knew Mal had them.
They were sure it had at least a little bit to do with the zines being contraband—though it could never be Mal, they understood that for a lot of kids, things being against the rules was fundamentally appealing, not appalling.
But by the end of lunch, when Maddie’s teammate, Alyssa, leaned across the table and said, “You better make more room for Parker’s comic next issue—it’s hilarious,” they thought it might have at least a little bit to do with what they were actually doing in the zine.
It wasn’t just Mal who kept getting stopped, either. On the way back from lunch, Emerson pulled Mal away from Maddie—“I’m going to—yoink! I’ll give them right back!”—and toward their locker.
Before stuffing it full with bundles of MixxedMedia earlier today, Mal hadn’t used their locker since… maybe ever. No one really did anymore. They were relics of the past, a place now mostly for nefarious things, or for couples to hide and make out.
Now, there was a thought—one that suddenly flooded the page of Mal’s brain in bold, all-capital typeface: MAKING OUT WITH EMERSON PIKE.
It was the first time doing something like that had ever occurred to Mal, but as Emerson rounded on them with a cheeky smile and a glint in her eye, it was suddenly all Mal could think about.
Their pulse quickened; Mal could feel it in their throat.
An amused smile rippled across Emerson’s lips. “Hey—are you still nervous about getting caught?”
“Caught what?” Mal breathed.
“Selling illegal zines, duh,” Emerson said.
“Oh, uh.” Right. That was easier than what Mal was actually nervous about. “Yeah. You know, rules.”
“Rules, schmules.” Emerson flicked her wrist in an implied whatever.
“Plus, rules can only really be broken if they’re fair, and this one isn’t.
” Emerson leaned across Mal, rattling the lock on their locker.
Her hair cascaded across Mal’s shoulder, sending a rush of tingles—and the sweet scent of vanilla sugar—through Mal’s senses.
“Come on, we’re kicking so much ass that I need a restock! ”
Mal shook themself. “Okay,” they said, and opened their locker.
Restocking was much less thrilling when they met Parker at their locker after fifth period to hand off an extra stack of zines to her too.
Then, as they ducked into their next class, James pressed a handful of bills into Mal’s hand covertly, like they were in some spy thriller.
Before the final class of the day, even Stella wanted in, taking the last three copies Mal had in their backpack to sell before school let out.
By the time the day was over, Mal made their way with Maddie to meet everyone at the same spot outside the gate as this morning. Stella was the last to arrive.
“There,” she said, handing Mal six neat one-dollar bills. “I sold out.”
“Yeah,” said Nylan, “and so did I!”
“Me too,” James said.
Kodi and Parker both nodded in agreement.
“Holy shit,” said Emerson, grabbing Mal’s arm.
“We… sold out?” Mal said stiffly.
“We sold out!” echoed Parker.
“I can’t believe it,” said Stella.
“Well, I can,” said Kodi. “We kind of ate with this one.”
“Yeah we did!” Nylan gave Kodi a high five.
“We should tally up the funds,” Mal said.
“We should celebrate!” James said.
“I have to work,” Emerson whined, “but also yes. Party at the Haus? I’ll buy a round of pastries for us all.”
They all agreed in turn, and Mal smiled. “Okay, I’m in. It’s going to take a while to count all this change anyway.”
“Yeah, pleasure first,” Emerson agreed. “Business a distant second.”
Mal shook their head. Out of the corner of their eye, they glimpsed Maddie standing a few steps away, quiet and contemplative just as she’d been that morning.
“I, uh—do you want to come too, Maddie?” they asked, turning to include her in their makeshift circle.
“Yeah,” said Nylan. “The more the merrier.”
“You can sit with me,” Stella volunteered.
“No, I’m okay,” Maddie said, catching Mal’s eye. “You guys go ahead.”
Mal raised an eyebrow at their sister. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, you’re super welcome,” Parker said.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Maddie said. She smiled, but it didn’t look quite right to Mal—there was something more behind this, too. She nodded at Mal and said, “You go! Have so much fun.”
Mal held Maddie’s gaze for a beat longer, but try as they might, they couldn’t pull the real meaning from what she was saying—and what she wasn’t. They swallowed. It was the first time they could ever remember Maddie being the one to look out of place.
“Okay,” they said, only a bit hesitantly, and then, together with the MixxedMedia staff, they turned to walk toward the Haus.
When they glanced back to wave good-bye, Maddie was already walking in the opposite direction.