by Amy Harmon
“Before this very moment, I would have said there wasn’t a girl on this planet who could pull off protective glasses,” Johnny’s face was serious but there was laughter in his voice. “How is it that you look absolutely delectable in those ugly things?”
Maggie grinned up at him and tapped the hand-out he was supposed to be reading. She would have to concentrate now; the temptation to converse with her invisible partner was incredibly strong.
“Work, work, work,” Johnny sighed and cuffed her lightly on the chin. He started at the beginning, and Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she would make it after all. With Johnny reading the instructions, and Maggie doing exactly as he said, they were making excellent progress through the assignment. Then Mr. Marshall decided to intervene.
“Miss O’Bannon,” he raised his voice imperiously. “You aren’t even consulting the hand-out. I’ve been watching you for the last five minutes, and you haven’t looked at it once.” Mr. Marshall rose from his desk and approached her workspace. “This isn’t ‘Make Your Own Potions 101,’” he said sarcastically. “You actually have to follow the instructions in the hand-out.”
“I r-read it before I started, Mr. Marshall,” Maggie stuttered awkwardly, noticing that the other students had ceased working and were tuning in to the confrontation.
“Oh, really?” Mr. Marshall snatched up the hand-out that lay on the table in front of Johnny. “Take me through the first steps in the experiment.” Mr. Marshall was very smug – apparently he had been watching her. She hadn’t been reading, and now he was looking forward to nailing her to the wall.
In a flash, Johnny stood behind Mr. Marshall, looking over his stooped shoulder. “Tell him the first step says to fill the largest beaker with two parts water, one part vinegar.”
Maggie repeated Johnny’s instructions word for word.
“Tell him part two says to fill the smallest beaker with the sodium solution.”
Maggie did exactly as he said, never breaking eye contact with the scowling teacher. Johnny fed her the instructions, word for word until she’d reached the conclusion. Mr. Marshall tossed the hand out down on the table with a sniff.
“You’ve done this experiment before – perhaps at your old school? You should have informed me as soon as you realized. I could have found an alternative experiment for you to do. No credit will be given to cheaters.”
Johnny growled an expletive.
“I have never taken Chemistry before at any school, Mr. Marshall,” Maggie protested, seeing her grade crumbling before her eyes. “You can have the secretary check my transcripts! This is the first time I’ve ever seen this experiment!”
“My dear Miss O’Bannon,” Mr. Marshall snapped sharply. “Please don’t make things worse for yourself. You and I are both aware that you don’t read well enough to have completed this portion of the assignment in the limited time it took you.”
Maggie’s face flamed a hot, deep crimson, and she removed her goggles with shaking hands. It didn’t seem to matter that the other students had a partner to read them the instructions, or that the other students had someone to share the workload with– wasn’t that what she had done? Why was this teacher so intent on humiliating her?
Mr. Marshall turned away from her table with a small smirk and made his way back to his desk. Johnny was there waiting for him. Mr. Marshall made a great display of sinking back down upon his throne. Only…his chair had been removed at the very last second. Mr. Marshall’s head disappeared behind his desk as he fell to the floor with a girlish cry and a manly thud. The class burst into smothered giggles, snorts, and chortles.
Maggie’s persecutor pulled himself up gracelessly, smoothing his disheveled comb-over as he did. Gripping the sides of his leather chair, he again attempted to sit. Johnny shoved the chair forward violently, taking Mr. Marshall’s legs out from under him and sending him flying back into his seat. The momentum toppled the chair and the teacher over backward, wheeled legs and skinny ankles in argyle socks waving in the air. The giggles and snorts turned into guffaws and shouts.
Mr. Marshall rolled out of his upended seat in shocked bewilderment and, rising on wobbly legs, attempted to right his chair. As he leaned over, Johnny grabbed the waistband of his pants and yanked upward, showing the old bully how it really felt to be a pain the butt. Mr. Marshall shrieked and grabbed at the seat of his pants in mortification. Johnny released him, and with a little bump, shoved him back into his chair and scooted him into his desk as if the whole incident had never happened. Then, leaning down very close to Mr. Marshall’s ear, he spoke loudly and distinctly. Maggie marveled that she was the only one who could hear him. His voice practically reverberated through her head.
“You owe Margaret O’Bannon an apology.”
Mr. Marshall rubbed frantically at his ear and stuck his finger into the opening as if a bug had flown into his ear canal. His eyes met Maggie in stunned disbelief. She didn’t know if he had actually heard Johnny, but on some level the message had been received. Johnny resumed his place by her side.
They finished the experiment and the attached quiz in silence. As the class came to a close, and the students filed out, Maggie hung back, waiting for the room to empty. When Mr. Marshall saw that she remained behind, he scampered out, as if fearful that the whole embarrassing episode would repeat itself.
Johnny sank down on a stool and looked at her stonily. He knew she was going to scold him, apparently.
“You can’t defend me from the whole cruel world,” she said softly.
“True. But I can defend you in my tiny corner of it.”
“My knight.”
“My lady.”
Maggie smiled at his rejoinder. “Just…please… be careful. What if people start to talk?”
“About what? Ghosts? I’m not worried about that, Maggie.”
“Please don’t do that again. I almost felt bad for that awful little man.”
“That awful little man has been pulling stuff like that for decades, and his father pulled similar stuff for decades before him.” Johnny stood and captured her hands in his. “I can’t stand by while people are cruel to you. I can’t watch you suffer and do nothing. Don’t ask me to.” His expression was fierce and unyielding. They locked gazes for several long seconds. Maggie surrendered first.
“Will you kiss me, please?” Maggie whispered, lifting her hands to clasp them against the nape of his neck and pulling his glorious face to hers.
“Someone could walk in.” His mouth hovered just above hers, his breath tickling her parted lips.
“I don’t care.”
And at that moment, neither did he.
13
“PRETEND”
Nat King Cole - 1953
The next few weeks passed in a blur of stolen moments and secret rendezvous, and Maggie grabbed every second with both hands and held on tight. When the early mornings and evenings weren’t enough, Johnny would attend her classes with her. Sitting in an empty chair or perched on her desk, he would contribute his thoughts on the various subjects, unbeknownst to her teachers or the other students around him. Maggie wondered how often he had done this very same thing over the last years. He could probably write a book on all her subjects or at the very least, teach the class.
Maggie had the difficult task of acting like he wasn’t there, though she hung on his every word, his every thought, and his every expression. His mere presence made her glow with happiness, and more than once, she had to make up an excuse for speaking out loud or giggling with, what appeared to be, her imaginary friend. In Math, Johnny would kneel by her desk and help her with her geometry proofs. In English, he would assist her with her reading, and in Chemistry he frequently helped her decipher complicated concepts and instructions. Maggie was thrilled to have her own personal tutor, and her grades had never been better.
Johnny seemed as enamored with her as she was with him, and every once in a while he would forget that he blocked the aisle alongside her desk, tripping
and bumping unsuspecting passers-by. Those unlucky students would look around in confusion, wondering what they had stumbled over. Sometimes they thought it was Maggie who had stuck out a foot or jostled them as they passed. She got more than her share of dirty looks and often found herself blurting out awkward apologies for things she hadn’t done.
A few kids in Senior English started poking fun at her one afternoon, after she slipped and replied to Johnny’s comments out loud in a very quiet classroom. They were supposed to be silently reading Jane Eyre. Johnny was reading it out loud to her, making the whole assignment a million times easier. Plus, Johnny had to get very close in order to see over her shoulder and make it appear as if she were the one reading. Close to Johnny was close to heaven in Maggie’s world.
The story had started to take shape, and Maggie lost herself in Johnny’s voice and the romance between Jane and Mr. Rochester. Maggie could relate to the orphaned Jane who had so little. She was aghast when Jane discovered Mr. Rochester had a crazy wife hidden in the attic, and she was completely devastated when Jane decided she had to leave Thornfield Hall.
“But she loves him – she can’t go!” Maggie whispered. A few heads turned her way and then, shoulders shrugging, resumed their own reading.
“But he isn’t free to love her the way that she deserves,” Johnny replied gently.
“He’s crazy about her!” This time a few people snickered, but Maggie was totally unaware of them. Johnny laid a warning finger against her lips. Maggie looked up from the page into his beloved face, and all thoughts of Jane Eyre fled at the sadness in his gaze.
“Yes, he’s crazy about her – obsessed with her, even… and she loves him too. But it’s an impossible situation.”
Maggie knew Johnny wasn’t talking about Jane and Mr. Rochester anymore. Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. A few escaped and spilled out, sliding down her cheeks to freedom.
Johnny lifted his fingers and tried to capture them, but the tears slipped past, undeterred. It was as if the water slid right through his seeking fingertips.
“Why can’t I have a happy ending, just once?” Maggie’s voice caught on a sob, and the entire class looked at her like she had lost her mind.
“Miss O’Bannon? Are you okay?” Mrs. Olsen’s kind face radiated concern, and Maggie realized that she was crying in front of an audience – and not only crying, but seemingly talking to herself. She scrambled to wipe the tears from her cheeks and diffuse the embarrassing situation.
“Th-this b-book is just really s-sad,” Maggie gulped, mortified. Johnny had gone as still as Michelangelo’s David.
“It surely is, dear,” Mrs. Olsen agreed, rising from her desk to bring Maggie a tissue. “Carry on, class. Good literature should make us weep.”
Somebody coughed loudly, infusing the cough with the word “freak.” Muffled laughter rose from around the room. Dara Manning, the dance team captain, tried to copy the cough, only she inserted the word ‘loser’ instead. The smothered laughter and mocking comments continued throughout the remainder of the class. Maggie just slid her hand into Johnny’s, hoping he wouldn’t start sending things crashing around the room. He stiffened as if struck every time someone chimed in with a rude barb, but he didn’t retaliate. He continued reading to her until the end of class and, when it was over, slipped away, whispering the same words he always gave her – that he would be nearby.
If people were looking at her strangely and wondering why she was acting a little off, Maggie hardly noticed and never cared. Even her strained relationship with Shad was not enough to pop the bubble she floated in, day after day. Shad hadn’t talked to her for several days after their argument, but he had eventually thawed and resumed his endearing, if slightly obnoxious, ways. He was definitely more suspicious though, and watched her more possessively than he ever had before.
Johnny stayed away after school if she was working alongside Shad or Gus, making it possible for her to concentrate on her work and her friends. But she missed him desperately when he did, and sought more and more opportunities to work alone so he would join her. Shad complained that she was never around and when she was, she was constantly daydreaming and never listened. One afternoon, he even made snide comments in front of Gus about sneaking off to see her boyfriend.
“Who’s this boyfriend, Miss Margaret?” Gus was taken-aback. “Did I miss some big news?” he teased her good-naturedly.
Maggie tossed a withering look in Shad’s direction. He stuck his tongue out at her and folded his arms insolently.
“No boyfriend, Gus. Shad’s just being really stupid.” Maggie enunciated the word ‘stupid’ and turned away from Shad. His antics were getting old.
“Oh, yeah? What about Johnny, Maggie? I thought he was your guy. Or hasn’t he asked you to go steady yet? Hasn’t he given you his class ring? That’s the way they used to do it in the ‘50s, right, Gramps?”
Maggie gasped in outrage and reeled back in shock. Shad’s chin quivered as if he realized he had crossed a line. Gus looked back and forth between them, confusion wrinkling his brow.
“What’s going on with you two? You’ve been at each other for weeks now. And what’s this talk of Johnny, Miss Margaret? He ain’t been up to his old tricks again, has he? He been givin’ you trouble?”
Gus’s frank belief in Johnny’s existence was gratifying, but useless. Maggie would never confide in him, not about this. He might fire her, or worse, tell Irene. No one wanted a crazy foster kid. She might lose her home…again. She might lose Johnny. Fear clogged her throat and sealed her lips. Years of guarding her emotions and trusting no one could not be undone in months.
“Johnny hasn’t been giving me trouble, Gus,” Maggie sighed and turned away. “Shad is just messing with you and trying to irritate me, right Shad?” Maggie glared hard at Shad, and he just walked away without a word.
Maggie gathered her supplies and trudged angrily to the cafeteria. Shad had better not be there. Hopefully Gus would assign him to scrub the boys’ bathroom floor…with his vicious tongue! What was his problem?!
Maggie filled her bucket with soapy water and was just about to heave it down from the oversized sink when Johnny stepped around her and lifted it easily to the floor.
“Just in time! My hero!” Maggie batted her eyes and grinned up at him.
Johnny smirked back, but his eyes were shadowed and his smile fleeting.
Maggie followed after him as he wheeled the heavy mop bucket to the cafeteria. Without comment, he helped her move the tables and chairs to the far edges of the room. He took the mop from her hands and began sliding it back and forth across the dirty tiles in a steady swath. Maggie had seen him clean the floor with a thought when they had gotten carried away in conversation, and Maggie had hours of work still to complete. He obviously wanted to do it the old-fashioned way tonight. She didn’t mind. She always felt a little guilty when he made it too easy for her.
Grabbing another mop, Maggie dug in, and she and Johnny mopped side by side without speaking for a considerable amount of time.
“What was Shad so upset about?” Johnny said after a while.
“Shad is a little weasel.” Maggie had not forgiven him yet. “He claims to be my friend! He claims to be more than my friend, yet he is constantly on my case.”
“He’s just worried about you.”
“Ha!” Maggie cried, mop in hand, hand on hip. “He is jealous and nasty!”
“He is jealous….but he’s worried about you too,” Johnny insisted, not breaking his rhythm.
“I don’t understand why he’s jealous! He has no claim to me, and he thinks he has it all figured out. What does he know, really?”
Maggie resumed mopping, angrily swiping at tiles that she had already cleaned.
“He does have it all figured out, Maggie. That’s why he’s acting the way he is.”
“Why are you defending him? And what does he possibly have to worry about, anyway?” Maggie suddenly felt
like bursting into tears, and she blinked her eyes furiously, not wanting Johnny to see her cry.
“Maggie…Maggie, stop.” Johnny wrestled the mop from her hands and threw it. It landed perfectly upright next to the suds bucket and his mop, which were already neatly lined against the wall. Pulling her into his arms, he slid into a cafeteria chair and held her in his lap. Maggie collapsed against him with a snarly sigh.
“He is worried about you because you are acting like you are in love with a ghost.” Johnny forced her to meet his eyes.
“Well, I am,” Maggie said in a tight, small voice.
“Maggie – “Johnny moaned, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Her hands immediately shot up to smooth his hair.
“Maggie,” he tried again, sitting up. He slid his fingers between hers, bringing their joined hands to her lap. “You are walking around with your head in the clouds. People are starting to notice. Shad most of all. He’s heard people talk about you and laugh at you. It hurts him. It hurts me. It hurts me even worse to know I am the cause.”
Maggie rose from Johnny’s lap abruptly and took several steps from him, physically distancing herself from what he was saying. She could take the laughter; she could take the teasing and the ridicule, but she couldn’t take losing one more person that she loved. His words felt like good-bye, and she couldn’t take that most of all.
“I need to go.” Maggie retreated. She didn’t want to continue with this conversation, even if it meant cutting their time short.
“All right.” Johnny didn’t argue or beg her to stay, and that made her feel ten times worse. He walked up behind her and ran a hand down her smooth ponytail, wrapping it around his hand and using it to turn her around and pull her to him.
“Every moment with you has made the last fifty years worth it,” Johnny said with quiet intensity, and he lifted her chin and pressed his lips to hers, parting them softly. It was a kiss filled with both yearning and denial, a kiss that ended far too quickly.