“Hello, Mrs. Gunderson.”
“Have you done any of these things today? How many times do we have to talk about summer vacation not being an excuse for lazing about and letting your mind and body atrophy, but being an opportunity to enlighten yourself and grow as an individual?” Suddenly distracted, she looked at the bed. “Please don’t tell me you plan to eat all of that.”
“Mom, it’s only four o’clock. I have time.”
“Time’s an illusion. You think the day’s long, and before you know it, you’re ready to collapse into bed with a migraine, but you still have to answer seventy-five e-mails and return twenty-one calls.”
Arnie shifted his eyes toward Maggie without turning his head, and Maggie fought the urge to throw her arms around him in a protective, reassuring hug. She’d only met Mrs. Gunderson a few times—mostly because her job as a corporate lawyer kept her very busy and traveling a lot, and also because Arnie did his best to avoid her whenever she was around—and each meeting was even more intimidating than the one before.
“Answer me, please. Some of us have to work.”
“I’ll swim when Maggie leaves, practice the flute after that, jog around the lake after dinner, and read one hundred pages before bed.”
“Of what?”
Arnie looked at his mother.
“One hundred pages of what?”
“The Sun Also Rises,” Arnie said without batting an eye.
“I’d like a five p.m. update.”
“You got it,” Arnie said, saluting as his mother answered her ringing BlackBerry and dashed from the doorway.
“Hemingway?” Maggie raised her eyebrows.
“Thought I’d see what the fuss is about.”
Amazed, Maggie watched him pull a copy from the side pocket of his cargo shorts and toss it on the desk. “I guess I have a lot to do today. We should probably get back to work.”
Maggie frowned as Arnie opened the laptop and pulled up the website templates. He joked about his parents a lot, and called the family housekeeper “Mom” and driver “Dad” since he saw them more and thought they knew him better than his actual mom and dad, but it was clear their absence and infrequent, uncomfortable presence bothered him more than he’d like to admit. Even now, he sat up extra straight in his chair, tapped one foot, and nibbled his lip while staring at the laptop screen. “Are you okay?”
“I think we should go with the fourth one,” Arnie said, as if he hadn’t heard her.
Maggie waited to see if he’d change his mind about avoiding her question. When he stared silently at the computer without blinking, she forced her attention back to the website templates. “Okay … but there’s not much going on there. Besides your good hair, I mean.”
“Exactly. It’s an empty slate. We can come up with a ton of our own ideas and see what the company thinks.”
“That sounds fun, but time-consuming.”
“It won’t be that bad. And after seeing the first three ridiculously cheesy options, do we really have a choice? Especially if our names and faces are attached?”
Looking at the diet-enforcing lion, Maggie nodded. He had a point. No sane kid was going to want to surf a site that made him or her feel silly for doing so. “Do we have to use that picture?”
He looked at her and grinned. “Of course not. We can hold a professional photo shoot to get the very best options, if you want.”
She didn’t love the idea of being on the Internet for everyone all over the world to see, but she did think it was important that they do this right. The goal was to reach kids and inspire them to make better decisions that would help them lead happier lives. For that to happen, the kids needed to first feel like they hadn’t done anything wrong, and that they weren’t alone. And what better way was there to convince them of that than other kids who’d been there and understood what they were going through, rather than parents, teachers, or anyone else who hadn’t?
“Okay,” she said finally. “But if we’re going to do it, we’re going to really do it.”
“Absolutely.”
“Like, if we’re doing pictures, we should probably have before-and-after shots of ourselves.”
“Let’s not go crazy.”
“I’m serious. Kids need to trust us and know we’re not frauds.”
Thinking it over, Arnie nodded slowly. “And maybe we could write short accounts of what we went through.”
“And what we still go through.”
“In our own voices.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at her. “This just might work.”
As he closed the other website templates and started scribbling notes, Maggie hoped he was right. After being hurt by Peter, shunned by Erin, and misled by Wilma, she could use the positive distraction. And after witnessing the painful exchange between Arnie and his mother, she knew he could use some of the same.
They might have been weight-loss-success stories, but they were still works-in-progress. And right then, they needed chubby kids everywhere as much as chubby kids everywhere needed them.
11.
“Did you crash on the beach last night?”
“It’s seven thirty already?” Maggie dropped the stack of life preservers she carried to check her watch. “How is it seven thirty already?”
“No tent, no bonfire, no sleeping bag,” Ben said, looking around as he neared Maggie. “You’re either a hardcore camper, or working serious overtime.”
“Sorry, I thought I’d be done by the time you got here for your workout.” She offered a small smile as she knelt down to gather the life preservers.
“No apologies necessary. It’s a big beach, and I’m happy to share.” Dropping his backpack and towel to the sand, he crouched down to help Maggie. “But please don’t tell me Erin asked you to come in this early.”
“She didn’t.”
“Good. That would’ve been low, even for her.”
Carefully balancing a tower of orange foam in her arms, Maggie stood slowly and shuffled toward the lifeguard stand.
“So what are you doing here?”
Maggie deposited the stack next to three others and brushed sand from her hands. “I’m trying to get my job back.”
“She fired you? Are you kidding me?” Ben added the last stack to the neat line of life preservers and looked at her in disbelief. “Did you talk to Adam? Because I’ll find him right now and tell him—”
“She didn’t fire me,” Maggie said, reassured, touched—and surprised—by his apparent concern. “But she might as well have, for all the time I’ve spent in the water. Last night I made a list of every little ridiculous thing she could ever ask me to do so that I could come here early and finish each one.”
“Wow,” Ben said, grinning appreciatively. “So what time did you get here?”
“Six.” Her dad had balked when she’d asked him to drop her off on the way to work, especially since the sky was still dusky gray with night, but agreed after she promised him the rest of the swim instructors awaited her at the beach for early CPR training.
“I bet the sunrise was awesome.”
“It was, actually.” She smiled. If she’d ever been awake early enough to see the sun rise, she’d certainly never been outside. And she hadn’t even thought about it that morning until she was already on the beach, cleaning goggles—she’d held up a pair to inspect their clarity and suddenly noticed the sky turning shades of pink and lavender.
“Do you need any help finishing up?”
“Oh no, that’s okay. I—”
“Dude!”
Maggie and Ben spun around to see Jason hobbling across the sand.
“I don’t think I have it in me today.”
Ben shook his head. “I knew you were never going to get out of there.”
As Jason groaned and collapsed in the sand, Maggie resumed straightening the stacks of life preservers. She wanted to ask if he was okay, considering all the noise he was making and the fact that he was bundled up in baggy
gray sweatpants, a navy hooded sweatshirt, and flip-flops with socks—it had been eighty degrees and humid when she left the house almost two hours earlier—but she still felt like a guest who’d shown up too early to the party. She thought it was better to pretend she wasn’t there.
“It was American Idol karaoke.” Flopping on his back, Jason covered his face with his baseball hat. “I finally made it to the finals. I couldn’t just leave.”
“How long did it take you to get to the finals?”
“Four hours. Plus about twenty more before last night.”
“Did you win?”
Jason rolled on his side and brought his knees to his chest. “No,” he said, pouting. “I did Whitney.”
Maggie smiled when Ben cracked up.
“Hey, at least I take a risk! Not like other people who sing the same simple Billy Joel song every single time.”
“I make no apologies,” Ben said, still laughing. “‘Piano Man’ is a perpetual crowd-pleaser.”
“Whatever. At least I saved every other sixteen-year-old guy in the room from having to learn a very important lesson the hard way.”
“’Cause I’m sure every other sixteen-year-old in the room couldn’t wait to attempt Whitney Houston.”
Maggie giggled. So much for being invisible.
“Anyway, between the emotional roller coaster, lack of sleep, and vat of buttered popcorn I consumed, that water’s not looking especially inviting right now.”
“Suit yourself.”
As Jason rolled onto his other side, away from them, Ben turned back to Maggie.
“American Idol karaoke?” she teased.
“It’s a very addictive video game.”
“With a microphone!” Jason called without turning over.
“Are you any good?”
“Not at all. Which is why ‘Piano Man’ is my song of choice. The game has only one other song with a simpler melody, but singing Kelly Clarkson just crosses a line.”
“Sounds fun.”
“If you like humiliating yourself in front of groups of people, it definitely is.” Glancing over his shoulder, he shook his head in mock disappointment. “But there is such a thing as taking it too seriously.”
Since Maggie had talked to Jason the least out of all the swim instructors and didn’t know him well enough to poke friendly fun, she started wiping down the lifeguard stand.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
“I’m sure, thanks.” She smiled. He sounded concerned again.
“Then I should probably start swimming. One of us has to be awake for the kids today,” he said, louder.
When Jason waved one hand without looking up, Ben smiled once more at Maggie and headed for the water. He placed his backpack, T-shirt, and sneakers in a neat pile on the beach, dove in the water, and started doing brisk laps.
She didn’t know if it was because she appreciated his natural athleticism, early morning exercise commitment, friendliness toward her, or a combination of all three, but for some reason, watching Ben swim reminded her of watching Peter play baseball. She’d gone to countless games with Arnie and cheered in the stands every time Peter hit, caught, or even dropped the ball. It didn’t matter if the team won or lost, or if Peter had anything to do with either outcome—she just loved being there to support him.
She’d been his biggest fan, and even though he’d come with Arnie to several of her swim meets, he certainly hadn’t been hers. She wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
So, while Ben swam and Jason slept, Maggie pretended they weren’t there, and continued wiping down the lifeguard stand. When not one droplet of lake water residue remained, she crawled between the chair’s wooden legs and scrubbed underneath. She wiped, scrubbed, and polished until the stand shone like new, and then she shoved the dirty towels into her backpack so Erin couldn’t complain about the leftover mess. When that was done, she scoured the beach for litter and random artifacts that had washed ashore. There wasn’t much—after twenty minutes she’d only found an empty juice box and an unidentifiable green piece of plastic—but she walked a half mile in either direction, just in case. Once satisfied the beach was clear, she returned to the lifeguard stand and started rewrapping balls of gauze.
“What is this?”
Maggie turned around to see Erin standing just outside the trail entrance, one hand on her hip, the other holding a walkie-talkie in the air as though poised for self-defense.
“This is me recovering,” Jason moaned without moving. “I’ll be fine in ten minutes. Maybe twenty. Thirty, tops.”
“I stopped hoping for your recovery a long time ago,” Erin said, not bothering to look at Jason as she marched across the stand.
“Ouch.” Rolling onto his back, Jason brought one hand to his chest to cover his wounded heart.
“What is this?” Erin fired the question at Maggie like she’d done something wrong. “Why are you here already?”
Maggie had tried to prepare herself for Erin’s unhappy surprise, but her face reddened, anyway. “I’m working,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “I’m working,” she said again, firmly.
“No one asked you to get to work early. And you shouldn’t be here unsupervised. I’m sure Adam would be thrilled to know you’re wandering the beach alone and opening the door to camp liability and lawsuits. Maybe I should—”
“Give it a rest, Erin.”
Maggie really didn’t want to be relieved when Ben joined them, apparently done with the last leg of his beach sprints, but she felt her face cool immediately. He seemed to have some soothing effect on Erin, and Maggie wasn’t too proud to be grateful.
“She wasn’t alone. You know Jason and I are here every morning.”
“He’s hardly here.” Erin folded her arms over her chest.
“I just wanted to get everything done early so I could help when the campers arrived,” Maggie said boldly.
“Really.” Erin smirked slightly, as though this was a game she’d already won. “First aid kits?”
“Restocked and reorganized according to most-used products—Band-Aids, gauze, medical tape, rubbing alcohol—”
“Life preservers?”
“Cleaned, straps tested and stacked by size.”
“Water cooler?”
“Refilled.”
“Goggles?”
“Spotless.”
“Snorkels?
“Unclogged.”
“Balls?”
“Inflated.”
Erin paused. Frowning, she circled the lifeguard stand.
“I also patched holes in the inner tubes and rafts, cleaned the lifeguard stand, picked up litter, folded towels, laminated a weekly weather forecast for your clipboard, trimmed bushes lining the trail that leads to the beach, and raked the sand in the most-well-traveled spots to remove any especially large rocks or sticks.”
After carefully examining Maggie’s work, Erin stopped circling and looked at her. “Why?”
Maggie opened her mouth. That was one question she hadn’t anticipated, and telling Erin that she was tired of being treated like a servant would be admitting that Erin had gotten under her skin. Maggie didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. “I was hired to be a junior swim instructor,” she finally said.
“How’re the vocal chords this morning, Whitney?”
Polly had arrived and crouched near Jason, who still lay in a sad lump.
“Your fault,” he grumbled as she patted his back. “All your fault.”
“You’ll work with Jason today,” Erin said firmly, as though she’d made the decision out of practical necessity and not because Maggie had beaten her to the daily punch. “The campers will be here any second, so go talk to him, see if he can stand, and come up with a plan.”
“Great,” Maggie said happily, trying to prevent her smile from taking over her face. “Thank you.”
When Erin turned away and started making notes on her clipboard without answering, Maggie snapped sh
ut the first aid kit she’d been working on and headed for Jason.
“That was awesome,” Ben whispered, walking with her.
“You know what this place needs?” Jason mumbled as they neared. “A cabana. With lounge chairs, refreshing drinks, snacks, and maybe a nice flat-screen.”
“No more microphone for him.” Polly stood and brushed her sandy hands on her shorts.
“I didn’t bring drinks, snacks, or a flat-screen, but I’ll help you any other way I can today,” Maggie said, suddenly slightly nervous. Just because Erin had assigned her to Jason’s group didn’t mean Jason would be happy about it.
“My angel.” Jason lifted his head from the sand slowly, as if it weighed fifty pounds, and looked at her. “Someday, when hitting the high notes in ‘I Will Always Love You’ is as easy as tying my shoes, I’ll sing it for you to express my deep gratitude.”
“How about Saturday?” Polly nudged him with her toe.
“As in four days from now?”
“Same time, same place.” Polly smiled at Maggie. “You should come too. All of the counselors will be there.”
“Really?” Maggie sighed on the inside. Couldn’t she have just said she’d think about it instead of sounding so surprised?
“Well, almost everyone,” she said, lowering her voice and tilting her head toward Erin.
“It’ll be fun,” Ben said. “Just don’t steal my thunder by outdoing me on ‘Piano Man.’” He grinned.
“Okay,” Maggie said without even processing whether she already had plans (probably not) or related logistics (parental permission).
“Sorry to break it up,” Erin called, “but the campers are on their way. Let’s try to look like we care.”
As Ben and Polly each grabbed one of Jason’s hands and pulled him from the sand, Maggie returned to the lifeguard stand. Taking off her T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops and placing them on top of her backpack, she replayed the conversation that had just taken place. She’d just been invited to a party. A real party, with older kids. She’d gone to tons of birthday parties for kids at school over the years, but she’d never been to a party that didn’t involve cake, ice cream, and piles of presents.
Maggie Bean Stays Afloat Page 9