Maggie Bean Stays Afloat

by Tricia Rayburn

  Maggie Bean Stays Afloat

  TRICIA RAYBURN

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN MIX

  Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  Text copyright © 2008 by Tricia Rayburn

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ALADDIN MIX is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  ALADDIN PAPERBACKS and related logo are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Designed by Christopher Grassi

  The text of this book was set in Garamond.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Aladdin Mix edition May 2008

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Control Number 2007931953

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4169-3347-2

  ISBN-10: 1-4169-3347-6

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4424-0723-7

  For Kristin, my favorite house-hunting partner

  1.

  Maggie Bean stood at the bubble-gum end of the candy aisle, biting her lip and carefully deciding which pack was going to help her survive the next seven days. Bubbilicious and Bubble Yum had tons of sugar, while Trident and Carefree had none, and were therefore the better, healthier options, but that didn’t make the decision much easier. Paradise Punch and Ballistic Berry were off-limits, but that still left spearmint, peppermint, fresh mint, vanilla mint, wintergreen, and cinnamon. And the decision was especially important this week, because the flavor she chose was going to be the flavor that would forever remind her of the biggest, most important moment of her entire life—the one in which she finally revealed her true feelings to Peter Applewood.

  “S’cuse me, miss,” a sales clerk said, sounding slightly annoyed.

  He stood just behind her, waiting to wheel a cart of SnackWell’s cookies down the aisle. She apologized quickly and stepped aside to let him pass, feeling the familiar warmth creep across her cheeks. Bracing herself for unwanted snack suggestions, she held her breath and warily eyed the stack of green boxes as they moved before her. It wasn’t until the sales clerk reached the end of the aisle and rounded a display of bottled water without another word that Maggie exhaled, and smiled.

  It was like he didn’t recognize her.

  “Truth time, Mags.”

  Maggie laughed when Aimee flew around the corner and stopped short in front of her.

  “Too round?”

  “Too big,” Maggie corrected, trying to find her best friend’s turquoise eyes behind the enormous red sunglasses. “Unless the alien look is in this summer.”

  “That’s what we’ll find out tonight,” Aimee said, holding out a stack of brightly colored magazines.

  “InStyle, Lucky, Seventeen, Glamour,” Maggie read, trying to quell the familiar pang in the bottom of her belly that grew at the sight of the thin, beautiful cover models. The sales clerk might not recognize her, but that didn’t mean anyone else would recognize her as the girl she still wanted to be. “What about English, Earth Science, and Math?”

  “Finals?” Aimee rested the alien sunglasses on top of her head to give Maggie a disapproving look. “You’re really concerned about finals at a time like this?”

  “I’ve just spent fifteen minutes considering the olfactory effects of chewing gum.” Maggie sighed. “I think my priorities are in order.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Keeping the alien sunglasses on her head, Aimee tried on another pair. “How about these?”

  “Perfect.” Maggie stifled a giggle.

  “Be serious,” Aimee admonished. “At Camp Sound View, where everyone’s forced to wear color-coded uniforms so as not to get distracted from arts, crafts, sports, and general summer merriment, the sunglasses you wear say who you are.”

  “Then I think we need more magazines,” Maggie said seriously. “Unless who you are is a sixty-year-old woman hiding in a thirteen-year-old’s body.”

  “That is why you’re my best friend.” Aimee pushed the white plastic sunglasses on top of the red ones still on her head, and peered past Maggie. “Everything okay here?”

  And that was why Aimee was her best friend. She didn’t have to turn around to know what Aimee inspected. It wasn’t that long ago that Maggie lingered at the other end of the candy aisle—the chocolate end, home to Snickers, Kit Kats, M&M’s and anything else that melted in her mouth and not in her hands (and definitely not off her hips). It wasn’t until very recently, when she’d successfully managed walking by a ten-thousand-calorie bag of sugar without salivating, or thinking about how she could sneak it into her bedroom without anyone noticing, that she actually confessed to Aimee the countless afternoons she’d spent in that very aisle, selecting her weekly chocolate survival kit.

  “Do you need these?” Aimee yanked both pairs of sunglasses from her head and held them toward Maggie. “They might help with the out of sight, out of mind thing. And remember, nose plugs are two aisles down, if the sweet scent becomes unbearable.”

  “I’m fine,” Maggie promised. “Even if my senses were tempted—which they’re not—my brain would ignore them, and I’d still be fine. I haven’t tasted chocolate in ninety-three days, and now is definitely not the time to indulge.”

  “True,” Aimee said, her concerned expression softening. “Because soon you’ll have someone to indulge with. I’m thinking one hot-fudge sundae, two spoons? One chocolate milkshake, two straws? One brownie, two napkins? One—”

  “Okay,” Maggie interrupted, her cheeks turning red again at the thought of sharing anything with Peter Applewood. “Let’s stick with sugar-free, zero-calorie gum for now, or my most thrilling dates will be with the Pound Patrollers scale.”

  Aimee grinned. “It’s going to be so good, Mags. You and the captain of the baseball team. Should I grab a Martha Stewart Weddings before we go?”

  Maggie shook her head as Aimee giggled and hurried from the aisle. She appreciated the optimism, but it made her stomach flip-flop, as though thinking positively would jinx everything.

  Because the truth was, she needed all the luck she could get. That was why the chewing gum selection was so important. Her breath might not seem like a very big factor, but she thought that while she was pouring her heart out, showing her emotions for the first time ever, and telling Peter (in different words) that she thought about him all the time, that just standing next to him made her happy, and that she counted down the minutes until she’d see him again, it couldn’t hurt if he was thinking, Wow, Maggie’s breath is so fresh.

  Deciding that, like studying, organizing, and planning her future, it was better to over-prepare, Maggie dropped two packs of each sugar-free flavor into the red shopping basket.

  Temporarily satisfied, she hurried from the candy aisle. Her mother would be done grocery shopping soon, and Maggie still had one more decision to make.

  She waved to Aimee, who was wearing a different pair of sunglasses and pouting at her reflection in a display mirror, and quickly covered the length of the store. Hardly out of breath (a remarkable feat she’d appreciate later), she rounded a pyramid of toilet
paper rolls.

  And nearly choked when her breath caught in her throat.

  Anabel Richards and Julia Swanson. They were too busy giggling and testing eye shadow colors on the tops of their hands to notice her, but Maggie recognized the Water Wings cocaptains immediately. Their long hair was still perfectly flat and frizz-free after a seven-hour school day, and their black leggings, long shirts, wide belts, and ballet flats were right off the runway. Maybe later, after she’d escaped from this paralyzing, embarrassing moment and was safe in her bedroom at home, she’d find comfort in the fact that they looked like clones who wouldn’t know how to dress themselves without direction from fashion masters Marc Jacobs, Michael Kors, and Cynthia Rowley. Maybe she’d feel better that even though she wore boring jeans and a T-shirt, at least she’d decided to wear those boring jeans and T-shirt herself, because she felt comfortable in them, and not because someone else had told her they looked good.

  But that was later. The only thing she’d find comfort in right then was disappearing, so she ducked her head, spun around, and hurried from the aisle.

  Crouching behind the pyramid of toilet paper, Maggie focused on the happy Charmin bear and listened to Anabel and Julia laugh. Months had passed since they’d done everything in their power to keep Maggie off the synchronized swim team, and even though they’d kept their distance since, Maggie was still reminded of the girl she was then every time she saw them. Which was really unfortunate, since who she was then was someone she’d really like to forget. Or, better yet, pretend never even existed.

  Maggie cringed as Anabel said something that made Julia howl in delight. How had she not heard them before she saw them? She’d read that things like this happened—that it was possible to get so caught up in a guy and your relationship with him that you just stopped paying attention as the rest of the world faded away—but she never, ever thought it’d happen to her. Especially since she didn’t even have a relationship.

  Yet. She didn’t have a relationship yet. And she certainly wasn’t going to get one hiding behind a thousand rolls of toilet paper.

  “Hey.” Maggie rounded the end of the aisle, grabbed two tubes of pink lip gloss, and pretended to examine their barely noticeable differences in color.

  The giggling stopped. Maggie glanced up to see Anabel and Julia look at her, then at each other, with wide eyes and open mouths. A few months ago, they probably would’ve looked her up and down and made some sarcastic comment about how lip gloss looks better on people whose lips aren’t totally swallowed by chubby cheeks. But now they looked nervous, as though Maggie had just caught them shoplifting, cheating, or doing something they shouldn’t.

  “That’s a nice color,” she finally offered when they didn’t say anything, nodding to a case of turquoise eye shadow in Julia’s hand. She actually didn’t think it was a nice color—unless Julia was also buying a red sponge nose and polkadotted clown shoes—and while she certainly wasn’t a makeup expert, she’d read enough magazines to know that subtly enhancing your natural attributes was better than wiping them out with fluorescent colors. But, for some reason, she felt bad. Like they were uncomfortable, and she should try to help them feel better.

  “Thanks,” Julia said awkwardly.

  “There you are!” Aimee exclaimed breathlessly, flying into the aisle.

  “Here I am!” Maggie hoped Aimee noticed her exaggerated smile through the enormous green sunglasses she wore.

  “Oh, hey,” Aimee said, picking up on Maggie’s warning the way only a best friend can. She pushed the sunglasses on top of her head and grabbed the lip gloss from Maggie’s hand. “Oh, my goodness, he’s going to love that!”

  Maggie tried not to laugh as Julia’s and Anabel’s discomfort immediately gave way to curiosity.

  “He?” Julie forced a smile like they were all great friends. “He who?”

  “He, the most gorgeous boy you’ve ever seen in your life, who could be an Abercrombie model if he didn’t find all that shallow materialism and superficiality totally nauseating. He, who surfs every morning, does the crossword puzzle with his grandmother every night, and volunteers at shelters—animal, homeless, you name it—every weekend. He, who totally worships Maggie and thinks she’s his reason for being.” Taking a breath, Aimee paused for dramatic effect.

  “We’d tell you his name, but he’s very shy,” Maggie added, amused. She was pretty sure none of what Aimee had said about Peter Applewood was true—especially the worshipping part—but she certainly appreciated the shocked looks it brought to Anabel’s and Julia’s faces.

  “Imagine that.” Aimee shrugged. “Gorgeous, kind, and humble. What a combination.”

  Since Aimee could probably do this for hours, Maggie hooked one arm through hers and gently tugged her down the aisle.

  “Would love to stay and chat,” Aimee called over her shoulder, “but we don’t want to keep Mr. Perfect waiting!”

  They stifled their giggles until they reached the checkout counter in the front of the store.

  “I don’t know if that was necessary,” Maggie said, unloading the tubes of lip gloss and packs of minty gum on the counter, “but it was definitely fun.”

  “Of course it was necessary!” Aimee dropped her sunglasses and magazines on the counter triumphantly. “For as long as we’re friends—”

  “Which is forever.”

  “Right. For as long as forever, those two will rue the day they messed with you.”

  Maggie’s grin faltered as she watched the checkout woman ring up her purchases. Whatever happened with Anabel and Julia was a long time ago, and now she felt like a different person—a thinner, stronger, prettier person. But was that enough? Despite her new physique, fresh breath, and shiny lips, would Peter Applewood look at her after she confessed her feelings, and be happy she did? Or would he just be extremely uncomfortable that Maggie—thinner but still the same nerdy, boring, fat-on-the-inside Maggie—had put him in such an awkward position?

  “Snickers are on sale.”

  Maggie’s face flushed. “Excuse me?” she whispered.

  “Snickers,” the checkout woman repeated. She pushed Maggie’s bag toward her, then reached over the counter to point to the small sale! signs lining the rows of candy. “Three for a dollar.”

  And then, once again, she was fine. She was not the same nerdy, boring, fat-on-the-inside Maggie Bean. She was not the Maggie Bean who lived for hiding in her bedroom and consuming enough chocolate to feed a fleet of hungry trick-or-treaters every night. She was not the Maggie Bean who thought she’d never have a prom date, or fit into the black wrap all girls wear for their senior class portraits.

  She was the new and improved Maggie Bean. And she was going to do her very best to convince Peter Applewood that she was the girl for him.

  2.

  “What do you think the chances are of this being an abbreviated meeting?”

  “With this meeting being the last time we’re all gathered together to celebrate life, health, and our collective accomplishments?” Maggie asked without glancing up from her Earth Science textbook. “Slim to none.”

  “But what’s the point?” Arnie groaned. “We’ve faced our fear of fat, fought sugar and won, and talked the whole process to death. Shouldn’t we be rewarded with a few free minutes? Maybe I’d like to take some time to reflect on my own success by myself. And sit alone in a quiet garden and contemplate my past, present, and everything bright and sunny my future holds as a result of Pound Patrollers and all my hard work.”

  Maggie looked at Arnie. “You don’t want to sit alone in a quiet garden.”

  “If said quiet garden has a PlayStation 3 and Guitar Hero, then yes. Yes, I do.”

  “But think of how disappointed everyone would be if you left even earlier than planned.” Maggie lowered her voice. “I don’t know if some people are emotionally prepared for that kind of heartbreak.”

  “Can you believe it?”

  Maggie smiled at Arnie before turning to greet the Pound Patr
oller who’d just taken the metal folding chair next to hers. “Hi, Samuel.”

  “This is the very last time we’ll all be together like this,” Samuel, the group’s most enthusiastic participant, sniffed. “It all goes so quickly.”

  “What does?” Maggie’s aunt Violetta asked cheerily, joining the group. She planted loud kisses on the tops of Maggie’s and Arnie’s heads before taking the chair on the other side of Samuel.

  “Life,” Samuel clarified dramatically. “Its stretches of time that might seem endless but that are over before you know it—before you’ve even had the chance to really process and appreciate every moment and its significance, before—”

  “Do you think we’ll get out early?” Arnie saved Samuel from emotional collapse as he leaned across Maggie to direct his question at Aunt Violetta.

  “It’s summer, people, not the end of the world.”

  Maggie giggled as Electra, their group leader, hurried toward the circle in a yellow velour tracksuit and blindingly white Nikes.

  “So things will be a little different for a few months,” Electra continued brightly. “So a few folding chairs will be empty each week because of various vacations, pool parties, and beach bonanzas. We’ll all be fine, and we’ll all come back.”

  “Some people will come back,” Samuel said solemnly. “But others … “

  Arnie and Maggie exchanged small smiles. They’d been counting down to this day—their very last Pound Patrollers meeting—for weeks. They’d done their time, achieved what they were supposed to, and were ready to graduate from the grown-up world of organized calorie counting and go back to being regular kids, just in time for summer vacation. But there was no denying the group’s collective camaraderie, and despite their excitement to never return, they still felt bad that their departure might alter the group dynamic.

  “We’ll be fine,” Electra repeated, winking at Maggie and Arnie. “Now let’s get down to business. As you know, this is an especially crucial session. You are about to face barbecue upon barbecue of greasy cheeseburgers, fatty hot dogs, artery-clogging potato chips, and metabolism-wrecking strawberry shortcake with homemade whipped cream. Long, hot, humid days during which you’ll want to do nothing but curl up with Netflix in your air-conditioned living room. Three months of temptation disguised as vacation that could potentially destroy everything you’ve achieved and put you right back where you started—or, worse, further behind.”