Maggie Bean Stays Afloat

by Tricia Rayburn

  “But you’re here because you want your job back.”

  “Yes.” Maggie paused. “And I want to work with you.”

  Erin shook her head, as if by jostling the request, it might make more sense. “Why?”

  Maggie glanced toward the water as Jason and Ben came bounding out. “I just do, that’s all.”

  Erin looked behind her to see what had caught Maggie’s attention. When she turned back, her expression was softer. “And how do I know you won’t fall off the planet again next week?”

  “Because,” Maggie said firmly, jumping on the chance to continue her belated—if inadequate—explanation, “I was kind of pushed off the planet when I wasn’t looking before, and there’s no way I’m letting that happen again.”

  Sighing, Erin flipped through pages on her clipboard. “I’m not usually into second chances—and you should know there won’t be a third, under any circumstances—but my campers can be monsters. I could use some help with my group—especially an extra set of lungs for disciplining.” She scribbled on a loose piece of paper and handed it to Maggie. “You will be here every single day, on time, and do as I ask when I ask.”

  “Absolutely.” Maggie looked at the list of names in disbelief. “Erin, thank you so much. You have no idea what this means.”

  “I think I do.” Erin offered a sympathetic almost-smile. “I was pushed off the planet when I wasn’t looking once, myself.” Her walkie-talkie squealed suddenly, and she hurried away from Maggie as she snatched it from the waistband of her shorts.

  The moment was over as soon as it had begun, but it had happened. Maggie had her job back.

  She flopped in the sand and worked on committing her campers’ names to memory until the first groups descended on the beach. Their arrival marked the beginning of the second phase of her big plan, which actually made her much more nervous than she’d been prior to seeing Ben and Jason again.

  The Figure Eights hit the beach in a flurry of squeals and giggles. Their close-knit happiness was a little intimidating, but Maggie shuffled toward them, determined.

  “Hey, Maggie,” Ben said, suddenly standing in front of her. “Do you have a second?”

  “Um, not really.” She looked past him, trying to keep Aimee in sight.

  “I just thought maybe I could explain what happened. I’m guessing you saw us looking at your laptop after you came out of Stella’s that night. I swear we turned it on just to try to check flight prices to New York for the weekend trip we’d been talking about, and then sort of saw the slideshow. We were totally wrong to even touch the computer, let alone look at your personal stuff, and I’m so sorry about that. And you’re probably wondering why I haven’t called, and—”

  “Actually, I’m not wondering that at all,” Maggie said pleasantly. “But maybe we can catch up later?”

  She knew this was probably his one shot at trying to clear the air, but this might be hers, too, with Aimee. And some things were just more important. She’d wonder later what he could’ve possibly said, but apologized quickly before continuing her dash across the sand.

  “Hi.”

  Aimee spun around, her giggle instantly fading when she realized who’d spoken. “Maggie. What’re you doing here?”

  “I work here.” Maggie tried to smile, but it was hard to do with Aimee looking so mad.

  “I thought you used to work here? Summer said you were taking some time off?”

  Maggie peered past Aimee to the other Figure Eights watching them curiously. “Can we talk? Please?”

  Aimee frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, but shuffled after Maggie when Maggie moved away from the gathering groups. “What’s up?” she asked when they were safely out of eavesdropping range.

  “How are you?” Maggie was careful to not respond in the same curt tone.

  Aimee looked at her, apparently thrown off by the question.

  “I see you’re Queen of the Day again.”

  “Not again,” Aimee said, adjusting the tiara. “Still.”

  “Still? But you were Queen of the Day weeks ago.”

  “I guess I’m good at it.”

  “I guess,” Maggie said doubtfully. “Or else you keep beating out everyone else for the throne.”

  Aimee shrugged and looked down to her bare feet.

  “Aim,” Maggie said gently. “How do you keep beating out everyone else for the throne?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Aimee, please—”

  “Maggie, what do you care?” Aimee looked around quickly, apparently realizing how loudly she’d spoken. When she spoke again, her voice was still harsh, but quieter. “I mean, you started working here and were instantly too cool for anyone else, and then you started dating some stupid guy and disappeared for weeks. Weeks! And now you just show up and expect me to chat like nothing happened?”

  “Aimee, I know. And I’m sorry. So sorry. I’m an idiot. A moron. A loser. I don’t deserve you to speak to me now, but I just want you to know that I do care. And I know something’s up and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you before, but I am now, and I will be later, if you’ll let me, and—”

  “My parents are getting divorced, okay?”

  Maggie gasped. After replaying every weird conversation they’d had in recent weeks and leaving a dozen more unreturned messages, Maggie had finally decided something was definitely wrong with Aimee, but she never would’ve expected that. Aimee’s parents always seemed so happy. Growing up, Maggie had wished more than once that her own parents could be more like them.

  “Listen, I don’t really feel like talking about it, and I have to get back—”

  Maggie threw her arms around Aimee and squeezed. “You don’t have to talk now if you don’t want to. But know that I’m so sorry, Aim. And whenever you do want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

  Aimee’s body stiffened slightly before she gave in and hugged Maggie back. “I’m sorry too. It’s just been a lot to deal with. And I felt like I was losing you while I was losing my family, and I was just, well, mad, you know?”

  “I know,” Maggie said, still hugging Aimee.

  “And I didn’t really push to talk to you, even though I know I would’ve felt so much better if I did.”

  “But I know you tried. And I know I was too wrapped up in my own silliness to notice.” Maggie paused. “Do you want to sleep over tonight? We can stay up really late talking? And hopefully laughing? And maybe crying, if we need to?”

  Still hugging, Aimee nodded against Maggie’s shoulder.

  “I’ve missed you, Aim.”

  “Me too.” Aimee sniffed.

  When they finally pulled away to head to their separate groups, Maggie found herself thinking of her online journal entry to Arnie. She’d have lots of details to add, but already knew the last lines.

  You were right once again, Arnie—everything’s going to be fine. Another fine example of you making things better, even when you’re not there.

  26.

  “Where’s the spinach dip?”

  Maggie looked up from the cutting board to see her mom flying around the kitchen, throwing open the refrigerator, drawers, and cabinets.

  “And the broccoli puffs? And the strawberry spread?”

  “Mom.” Maggie waited for her to stop spinning and make eye contact. When she did, Maggie pointed the knife she was using to cut peppers at the platter in front of her. “You put them there two minutes ago.”

  “Thank goodness.” Her mom sighed in relief. “New space, new layout. I guess I’m still adjusting.”

  “Not a bad situation to have to adjust to,” Summer said. She sat at the breakfast table, tying ribbons around bundles of plastic utensils.

  “Not at all.” Her mother beamed and fanned her eyes as they filled with their daily dose of tears.

  “Good news!” Her dad entered the kitchen wearing a crisp white apron, red oven mitts, and a PATROL THIS baseball hat. He placed a plate holding a single turkey burger on the counter. “Not
only does the new grill work, I actually seem to know how to use it.”

  “That is good news,” Maggie said, impressed.

  “Especially since the guests will be arriving any minute,” her mom said sweetly before planting a kiss on her dad’s cheek and dashing from the room—to nervously rearrange the outdoor seating again, most likely.

  “And here we are in barbecue headquarters.”

  “Not again,” Summer groaned playfully as Arnie came into the kitchen. “Don’t you ever put that thing down?”

  “You’ll get your interview later, missy,” Arnie said, aiming the digital camcorder in her direction. “Now, what’s this?”

  “A turkey burger,” Maggie’s dad said proudly.

  “Not bad. Lower in fat than regular hamburgers.” Arnie zoomed in on the plate before moving to the end of the counter for another close-up. “But there’s still potential trouble ahead.”

  “Mustard?” Summer asked skeptically.

  “Fixings, in general. This is where ninety percent of calorie counters’ mistakes are made at barbecues. Mustard isn’t so bad. But ketchup, very deceiving in its tomato origin, is full of sugar. Couple that with some thick slices of cheddar cheese and fatty rolls, and one burger has your day’s entire calorie allotment.”

  “Okay.” Maggie added the last pepper slices to a dish, wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, and reached across the counter to gently turn the camcorder toward her. “How about we take a little break?”

  “But this thing can go on for hours. Its battery life—”

  “Help me decide what to wear,” she called over her shoulder, already out the kitchen door.

  “Sweetie.”

  Maggie turned to see her mother coming at her with outstretched arms. Before she could joke about her bruised ribs, a result of her mother’s nonstop spontaneous hugging, she was swept up in another squeeze.

  “I got that just before powering off,” Arnie whispered after her mother released her and flew back into the kitchen. He tapped the camcorder.

  “Sorry about the skyrocketing emotional levels,” Maggie said, heading down the hallway to her bedroom. “Mom’s been a basket case for weeks, all through the closing, packing, and moving, but she’s been kind of out of control the past few days. This is the first housewarming party we’ve ever had. Actually, this is probably the first real party of any kind we’ve ever had, outside of Summer’s and my birthdays.”

  “It’s a big deal. Based on what you’ve told me, compared to where you were a year ago, your family’s kind of starting over.”

  She opened her closet and smiled slightly. It was true. They were all starting over. Shortly after their mortgage fell through, Ocean Vista Pools made an enormous deal with Meadowbrook Estates, the ever-expanding neighborhood where they’d fallen in love with the astronomically priced blue Colonial; when the builder behind the complex was looking for another pool company to outfit new neighborhood backyards, her dad somehow convinced Wilma, their original realtor, that she owed it to them to put in a good word for his company. Ocean Vista got the gig and a ton more work, her dad got a bonus for influencing the deal, and their family got the down payment they needed for the white ranch house.

  And Maggie had done some starting over of her own. After mentally processing the fact that she had one thousand dollars, a great deal of money that could buy lots of books—now, or even later, if she put it away for college—she eventually gave it all to her parents. Most of it paid off her impulsive Stella’s shopping spree (the purchases from which she’d kept for a Patrol This contest prize) before her parents received the credit card bill and grounded her for life, and the rest she’d suggested they put toward their housewarming party. She’d also conducted daily apologies for her odd behavior, brief bout of materialism, and sneaking around to meet her now-ex-friends, until her parents grew so tired of hearing her, they reminded her once again that she was only thirteen years old, and therefore subject to all sorts of odd behavior and mistakes. Which, of course, didn’t make any of it okay—but it at least made it somewhat understandable. She didn’t know if they really believed that or if they were just too happy to punish her; either way, she hadn’t stayed out late or bought anything since.

  “What do you think?” She spun around and held up two sundresses.

  “They’re both great,” Arnie said, sitting in the chair of her wide white desk. “And since this is such a big deal, maybe you can just change halfway through? Like at the Oscars?”

  “I’ll go with the blue. It’s long, frilly, and gets bonus points for matching my room.”

  “That certainly affects my outfit selection every morning.”

  “Speaking of your room,” Maggie said, flopping on her new full-size bed across from Arnie. “How’re things at Casa Gunderson? Aren’t your parents back from Rome?”

  “They are indeed. And things have been...” He paused. “Interesting.”

  “‘Interesting’ sounds better than ‘painful.’”

  “It is. Turns out they found out about our little project.”

  “But you vowed never to tell them anything about Patrol This, so they couldn’t tell you how you were doing everything all wrong?”

  “I didn’t tell them—the housekeeper found my bonus check on my desk when she was cleaning my room. I gave them a website tour when they brought it up, and they actually asked legitimate questions and seemed pretty impressed. My dad even shook my hand—his hug equivalent—afterward.”

  “Arnie, that’s wonderful!”

  “Yeah. I still don’t see them much, but when I do, we talk about the site, or business, in general. It’s not an ideal parent-son relationship, but it’s better than them yelling and me cowering. It’s a start.”

  “I’m so happy for you. Soon you’ll be able to teach them a thing or two.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  Hearing the doorbell ring, Maggie jumped up from the bed. “I should finish getting ready.”

  “Right.” Arnie jumped up from the desk chair.

  Maggie took the blue dress from its hanger and retrieved her silver flip-flops from the closet.

  “So, I should go.”

  “Probably.” Maggie smiled.

  “Um …”

  When the doorbell rang again, announcing the arrival of more guests, Maggie looked at Arnie, who hadn’t moved since standing. “Everything okay?”

  “I kind of got you something.”

  “Got me something?”

  He pulled a small box from the pocket of his khaki shorts. “It’s a housewarming gift.”

  “Arnie, your parents already sent my parents the fanciest, most expensive crystal vase I’ve ever seen. You didn’t have to do this.”

  He held the box toward her and smiled.

  Smiling, she placed her dress and flip-flops on the bed and took the box. It was so pretty, wrapped in shiny blue paper with a matching silk ribbon, she almost didn’t want to open it. “Aren’t you going to get this on camera?”

  “Nope. I want to watch you with my own eyes, not through a lens.”

  “Arnie!” She gasped when she unwrapped and opened the box to reveal a delicate silver bracelet. “It’s gorgeous. You really shouldn’t have.”

  “I know it’s not a typical housewarming gift,” he said quickly. “It’s not, like, wineglasses or an ice bucket. But the center stone’s aquamarine, because you love water and swimming, and I thought silver would look good in any room in the house.”

  Maggie slid the bracelet on and held out her arm to admire it. “It’s amazing.” And it really was. No one had ever given her such a gift. She crossed the room and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.” He paused briefly before hugging her back.

  “Are you wearing cologne again?” she teased.

  He pulled away gently. “Maggie.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He looked at his feet, then at her. “I just don’t know i
f you’ll get it if I don’t actually say it out loud.”

  “Get what?” she asked, concerned. He was suddenly so serious.

  “Maggie, Aimee and Peter are here!” Summer called from the living room.

  Still looking at Arnie, Maggie waited for the once reflexive flip-flopping of her stomach at the mention of Peter’s name. A few weeks ago she’d decided that since she wasn’t changing schools and would have to see him at their lockers every day again very soon, she had no choice but to accept and get over everything that had happened in the beginning of the summer. So she’d organized a mini-golf outing with him, Aimee, and Arnie. She was so nervous during the first five holes the mini–golf club repeatedly slid from her sweaty grip, but by the sixth hole, when Arnie hit his ball right into the ice-cream cone of a little girl nine holes away and they all laughed until they cried, everything was somehow okay. They’d all hung out several times since, and her stomach had seemed less jumpy with every visit.

  Now, she couldn’t help but smile slightly when her stomach growled (for turkey burgers, most likely) instead of flipflopped.

  “Sorry,” Arnie said. “You should get ready.”

  “Arnie.” Maggie grabbed his hand as he started to walk away. “What is it?”

  “I like you,” he finally said without looking at her. “I’ve liked you forever, and I haven’t said anything because I was too scared and didn’t know if you’d feel the same way. And I know you probably had no idea and that this probably seems like it’s coming completely out of nowhere, but trust me—it’s not. And I don’t want to make anything weird or awkward, but I just had to say something because if I didn’t, someone else would’ve and I’d lose my chance. If I even have a chance.”

  Arnie spoke so quickly, Maggie had to really focus to make sure she caught every word. When she did, it took a second to process what he was actually saying.

  Arnie liked her. As more than a friend.

  She swallowed. “Well, that’s—”

  “You don’t have to say anything now. Or ever, even. I just wanted you to know.”

  Arnie, one of her best friends, who understood what she’d been through the past year better than anyone, who made her laugh until her sides hurt and who would do anything for her, liked her. He was right—she hadn’t expected it. But only because she’d been so busy obsessing about other things (and people) that she hadn’t really thought about it. But now that she did, it didn’t take long for the idea to make perfect sense. She didn’t know if she deserved his affection, but if she didn’t yet, she quickly, silently vowed to do everything she could until she did.