But she could still try to look as pretty as possible.
Twenty-nine minutes later, Maggie stood in front of the full-length mirror. She didn’t know if she looked like a princess, but she didn’t think she looked half-bad, either. The soft pink looked nice against her golden tan, her lips shone and cheeks glowed (thanks to Aimee’s makeup magic), and her light brown hair fell to her shoulders in soft waves. The bracelet Arnie had given her at her family’s housewarming party a few weeks ago hung delicately on her wrist. “I think I’m ready,” she said, unable to hold back a nervous smile.
“One last thing.”
Maggie watched Aimee gently place silver flip-flops on the floor beside Maggie’s bare feet.
“Instead of glitter,” Aimee explained.
Maggie stepped into the flip-flops just as the doorbell rang. She looked up and caught Aimee’s eye in the mirror.
“Ready, Cinderella?” Aimee whispered with a smile.
She managed a nod even though suddenly she wasn’t so sure. As she grabbed her purse with Arnie’s card and followed Aimee down the hallway, she wondered if this really was such a good idea. The last time she’d hung out with a boy who’d seemed to like her more than a friend, it’d ended in her pigging out on Reese’s Pieces and crying in her bed. And that mini-breakdown was over a guy she’d hardly known and would probably never see again. If it didn’t work with Arnie, she knew the resulting breakdown would deplete the candy supply of every store in a hundred-mile radius—and leave her without one of her very best friends. People didn’t go back to being buddies after a failed attempt at romance, did they?
But maybe she was getting ahead of herself, because when she reached the living room and saw her friend and almost boyfriend standing near the front door with a bouquet of yellow daisies, every worry and concern immediately disappeared.
This was Arnie. And no matter what, they would be absolutely fine.
“Hi,” she said, smiling shyly.
“Hi.” He’d already been smiling, but the corners of his mouth reached even higher as she neared.
“Mags, he brought you flowers,” Summer whispered loudly. “Real ones!”
If this were any day before today, or if the flowers had been for anyone else, Maggie would’ve playfully teased Arnie. She probably would’ve said something like, “What a gentleman!” or, “Who said chivalry’s dead?” and then suggested Arnie’d been watching too many old movies. But it was today, and the flowers were for her. She’d never been given flowers before, and now that she had, she knew it was no joking matter.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the bouquet from Arnie.
“Now, let’s get a picture!”
Feeling her face flush, Maggie turned to see her dad whip out a digital camera. She quickly looked to her mom for help, but the best her mom could do was mouth, I’m sorry, and offer a sympathetic wince.
Maggie grabbed Arnie’s sleeve and gently tugged him toward her. “The sooner we smile, the sooner we can go,” she whispered.
“Heard that.” Her dad raised the digital camera.
“I don’t mind,” Arnie said. “These shots will be great on the Patrol This website.”
Deciding to save that debate for later, Maggie focused on holding her smile for seven flashes.
“Okay!” her mom finally intervened. “You guys should get going. You don’t want to be late for your reservation.”
As Arnie moved toward the front door, her mom and Summer distracted her dad by asking to see the pictures on the camera’s small screen, and Maggie turned to Aimee.
“Will you be okay? Is your mom coming?”
“Don’t worry about me.” Aimee held out one hand. “I’ll put those in water. And then I might hang around and take your dad up on the movie offer.”
“Really?” Maggie handed Aimee the flowers. “We can give you a ride. I’m sure Arnie won’t mind.”
“That’s okay, but thanks.” She leaned closer to Maggie and lowered her voice. “If I stay here long enough, I might miss World War Seventeen at home.”
Maggie frowned. She knew Aimee’s parents had been having problems lately, and even talked about getting divorced, but she didn’t know they were still engaging in battle in front of Aimee.
“Don’t worry,” she said again. “Just have fun!”
Careful not to squish the flowers between them, Maggie gave Aimee a quick hug.
“Curfew’s nine o’clock!” her dad declared as Maggie joined Arnie by the front door.
“We’ll have her home by eight fifty-nine,” Arnie called back.
“Sorry about that,” Maggie said once they stood alone on the front stoop. “Next time, we’ll meet at the restaurant.”
“You look so pretty,” Arnie said before she could worry about referring to “next time” before this time had even started.
Maggie’s cheeks burned. On some level, she’d known things would be different. Arnie’d picked her up at her house before. He’d given her gifts and paid her compliments before. But now, knowing that he liked her as more than a friend, and that she felt the same way, everything felt different—somehow bigger, more important. It was almost like they’d just met, and were getting to know each other for the first time. Which wasn’t bad. It would just take some getting used to.
“You look great,” she finally responded. It was the truth. He always looked great, but tonight, in his khakis and white button-down shirt, he looked even better.
Things continued to feel different all the way to the restaurant. They sat together in the backseat of Arnie’s parents’ fancy silver SUV, and for the first time ever, she paid attention to the distance between them. Did they always sit so far apart? Did her arm always press up against the door? Did he always stare out the window? And she wondered if they were always so quiet while in the car. Was it because his family’s driver drove them? And because Arnie didn’t want him to relay anything they said to his parents? But didn’t the driver usually drive them?
One thing she was sure of was that the drive lasted much longer than usual. She wasn’t sure where they were going to dinner, but since they’d picked her up, she’d assumed they were staying in her neighborhood.
“Where are we going?” she asked a few minutes after passing Nora’s, the nicest restaurant in town. The only other options were Applebee’s and an assortment of other chains. Arnie wouldn’t have picked any of those for their very first official date.
“You’ll see.” He grinned.
Nearly forty minutes after leaving her house, they finally pulled onto a long, paved driveway surrounded by forest, nowhere near anything else. They drove for about another mile, and eventually reached what looked like the kind of log cabin Donald Trump might build if he ever felt outdoorsy. It was two stories tall, had a wide, wraparound porch, and sat in the middle of what looked more like a park than a yard.
“The Lodge?” she squeaked, spotting the large wooden sign near the parking lot.
“You know it?” Arnie sounded pleased.
“Isn’t this where Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes had Suri’s last birthday party?”
“Built last year and dubbed by the New York Times as the secluded, exclusive dining destination for the nature-loving rich and famous.” He turned to her. “Like it?”
She nodded, too stunned to speak. Compared to this place, Nora’s, with its pretty white Christmas lights and soft linen napkins, was probably about as fancy as Taco Bell.
Arnie got out of the car and came around to her side. She thanked his driver for the ride and took Arnie’s hand when he opened the door.
If things had felt different before, now they felt like part of someone else’s life. As they walked up the winding stone path to the restaurant’s entrance, she took it all in—the sprawling green lawn, beds of colorful flowers, birds chirping overhead, and large, sparkling lake, visible through The Lodge’s many windows—and wondered how she, boring old Maggie Bean, had gotten there.
With a boy.
“
Gunderson, for two,” Arnie said when they reached the hostess station.
They followed the hostess through a spacious lobby with huge wooden beams overhead and an enormous stone fireplace. Passing a mirror, Maggie glanced quickly to make sure her hair was okay and that her mouth didn’t still hang open from shock.
“I requested to sit outside,” Arnie said as they weaved through the main dining area, which was filled with long tables that looked like slices of sanded tree trunks. “I hope that’s okay.”
Okay? Was he kidding?
The hostess led them outside, and across and down a series of decks.
“It’s like a tree house,” Maggie said in awe, once they were seated.
They had their own small square of deck, separated from a larger deck and other diners by two steps leading down. They were surrounded by green, leafy tree branches, but still had a perfect view of the lake glittering in the setting sun.
“I just wanted to make sure you would never forget it.”
“It?” She looked away from the lake and at him.
He paused and focused on spreading the linen napkin in his lap. “Our first official date,” he said without looking up.
She leaned across the table and waited for his eyes to meet hers. “That will never happen,” she promised.
As she sat back, she took her linen napkin from the table. She wasn’t sure if it was nervousness, excitement, or a little bit of both, but when she went to gently tug the napkin out from under the silverware, she yanked too hard and sent her utensils flying. The big fork clattered to the floor several feet away, and the little fork landed on a salad dish on the tree-house tier below theirs.
“See?” she said quickly, trying to ignore the heat spreading from her cheeks to her forehead as other diners turned toward them. “Totally unforgettable.”
Thankfully, the waiter appeared right then with menus (and a new set of silverware). As Maggie opened her menu and surveyed the fish, chicken, and other low-carb options, Arnie took a sip of water—and immediately started choking.
“Arnie—”
“I’m okay,” he gasped, his face turning bright red. “Just give me a sec.”
Her heart raced as she watched him struggle to breathe. She was about to jump up and pound him on the back when he finally managed to inhale and exhale without coughing.
“Wrong pipe,” he croaked.
Not wanting to embarrass him, she tried to turn her attention back to the menu. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently when he took the napkin from his lap and blotted his damp forehead.
He nodded.
She lifted the menu so she could sneak peeks without him noticing. He looked seriously pained, like he’d choked on a pack of thumbtacks, not water.
“Maggie,” he finally said, leaning toward her but looking out at the lake, “I kind of have a problem.”
She lowered the menu. “Do you need an ambulance? Should we call 911?”
“Maybe.” He tried to laugh, then forced himself to look at her. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet, she had to strain to hear. “This place is really expensive. I knew it was, but I had no idea the cheapest thing on the menu was thirty dollars. And I kind of didn’t bring enough money.”
Was that all? Maggie leaned so close, their noses practically touched. “That’s okay,” she said. “I have money too.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want you to pay for anything. This was my idea.”
She sat back. This wasn’t the way their very first official date was supposed to go. They weren’t supposed to be anything but 100 percent happy. And even though it’d felt like they were getting to know each other all over again, Maggie knew Arnie well enough to know that he wasn’t going to change his mind about letting her help pay—and that he’d be mad at himself for weeks if they simply left and went somewhere else.
Catching their waiter’s eye, she waved him over.
“What’re you doing?” Arnie whispered nervously.
“I have an idea,” she whispered back.
“Yes, miss?” The waiter smiled.
“I was just wondering,” Maggie said sweetly, “if you have a children’s menu?”
One hot dog, one cheeseburger, and two vanilla milkshakes later, the sun hung low in the sky, the lake looked like it was sprinkled with sapphires, and Maggie and Arnie laughed till their sides ached—the way they always did when they were together.
3. “So, let me get this straight,” Aimee said, taking a stack of notebooks from Maggie. “You gave him the card, he said it was the best thing he’s ever gotten in his entire life … and no kiss?”
Maggie nodded. “That about covers it.”
Aimee tossed the notebooks in her locker and turned to Maggie. “Peck on the cheek?”
“Nope.”
“On your hand?”
“Negative.”
“On your forehead?”
“Nada.”
“Huh.” Aimee took a handful of pencils from Maggie and casually threw them on top of the notebooks. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Maggie shrugged. “I guess it just wasn’t the right time.” That, or she’d said or done something at some point during her first official date with Arnie to make him change his mind about her. She didn’t suggest this to Aimee, though, since she’d already replayed every single perfect moment in her mind and still had no idea where things could’ve gone wrong.
“Weird.”
“You know what else doesn’t make sense?” Maggie asked, hoping to change the subject.
“There’s more?” Aimee looked at Maggie, then followed Maggie’s gaze to her locker. “What?”
“If you just throw everything in there without any kind of organization, how are you ever going to find anything?”
Aimee turned back to Maggie. “Really? You really want to go there?”
“I’m looking out for you.”
“You’re living vicariously through my locker since you’re too chicken to go to your own.”
“I’m not chicken,” Maggie said defensively. “I just haven’t had the chance to go down that hall yet.”
“Mags, talk about not making sense. It’s the first day of school. You love the first day of school. It’s like Christmas, for you.”
“So?”
“So, opening your locker is like opening Christmas presents, a joyous experience you look forward to for weeks. And you keep coming to my locker instead of going to your own.”
Maggie glanced around. When she was sure no one was paying attention, she leaned toward Aimee. “I can’t do it,” she admitted. “I thought it’d be a piece of cake. I’ve seen him at least five times since telling him I like him and getting a big ‘no thanks’ in return, and it’s been fine. But this is different. It’s just us—alone, again, at our lockers. You know what that means.”
“What that meant,” Aimee said. “Seeing Peter Applewood at your locker this year won’t be like it was last year. A lot’s happened since then.”
She was right. Maggie knew she was right. They could just say hi, ask which class they had or were about to go to, and pretend like nothing had ever happened. Like Maggie had never looked forward to seeing him every forty-five minutes every day, or that she’d never confessed how she felt, or that he’d never rejected her. They could just start over. They could just be friends.
Starting after next period.
“Saved by the bell,” Aimee said as the ringing sounded overhead and classmates started to scatter.
Maggie’s backpack was already heavy after collecting textbooks in the first three classes of the day, so she shrugged it off her shoulders and held it by the straps.
“This is eighth grade,” Aimee reminded her as they headed down the hallway. “There are going to be lots of books. You’re not going to carry that backpack around like that all year.”
“Just think of all the muscles I’m working,” Maggie quipped. “By the end of the year, I’ll be so buff, you won’t even recogn
ize me.”
“Speaking of that . . .”
Maggie stopped short to keep from running into Aimee, who’d frozen in the gymnasium doorway.
“Ms. Pinkerton?” Maggie said when she realized what Aimee was talking about. It was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
The cranky gym teacher glanced up from her clipboard and glared at Maggie from underneath her faded Yankees baseball cap. “What? You need an engraved invitation, Bean?”
Knowing Ms. Pinkerton well enough to know that answering would only give her more reason to grumble, Maggie hooked one arm through Aimee’s and headed for the bleachers.
“What happened?” Aimee whispered once they were sitting down.
“Major identity crisis,” a voice whispered back. “Caused by a bad breakup.”
Maggie turned around to see where the inside scoop was coming from. Too distracted by Ms. Pinkerton to pay attention to where they were sitting, Maggie and Aimee had plopped down only two rows in front of Julia and Anabel.
“Rumor has it she thought she was getting engaged at the beginning of the summer,” Julia continued quietly, blue eyes glittering, “but then all she got was a big old broken heart.”
“Oh, no, ” Aimee said, frowning. “Poor Ms. P!”
Maggie turned back, her mind racing. Julia Swanson was actually initiating conversation with her and Aimee in gym class, something that never, ever would’ve happened last year, and Ms. Pinkerton looked like she’d spent the summer reading fashion magazines and trying—unsuccessfully—to implement their hip wardrobe tips. Ms. Pinkerton had always worn baggy shorts, T-shirts, and sneakers, rather masculine ensembles that had caused her to be mistaken for the boys’ gym teacher on more than one occasion. But today, she was wearing skintight purple leggings, a bright green caftan … and gold high heels. The mismatched outfit was so feminine, if it weren’t for the faded Yankees baseball hat, Maggie would’ve thought Ms. Pinkerton was someone else.
Not that her new look affected her old charm.
“Vacation’s over, people!” she bellowed suddenly from the gymnasium floor. “Stop wandering around like a bunch of lazy tourists and take a seat!”
Maggie Bean in Love Page 2