“You’re right. It won’t. Especially not if there are no more meetings to attend because the swim team no longer exists.”
Maggie sat up straight, immediately forgetting the throbbing in her shoulders and back. Quickly scanning the bleachers behind her, she grew even more nervous when she saw her fellow swim team members’ serious expressions.
“Now, as I was saying,” Ms. Pinkerton continued, slowly pacing in front of them, “it’s not looking good. Under normal circumstances, our first meeting of the season would be used to review last year’s accomplishments and strategize for maximum success and district domination this year. But these aren’t normal circumstances.”
“Ms. P,” Maggie said tentatively, raising her hand. “What exactly is going on? The swim team and Water Wings have shared the pool for years. What’s changed?”
Ms. Pinkerton stopped pacing and looked across the room as the group of girls gathered in a large circle near the far end of the pool burst into shrill giggles. Her eyes narrowed as Julia Swanson and Anabel Richards made their way around the inside edge of the circle, handing a pink longstemmed rose to each Water Wings member.
“Those flowers must’ve cost at least fifty dollars.” Ms. Pinkerton crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head.
“Did we, like, run out of money?” Shasta Lorne, another eighth grader and the team’s 100-meter butterfly record holder, asked worriedly.
“Or do something wrong?” added Kim Wu, a seventh grader and their best relay closer.
Ms. Pinkerton’s head snapped toward them. “Absolutely not. We’ve done everything we’re supposed to. These bleachers are packed with spectators every time we have a home meet. We sell wrapping paper until everyone we know has enough shiny packaging for twenty years’ worth of Christmas and birthday gifts. We use that profit to pay for our uniforms and gear, and whatever’s left over we donate to the YMCA in town. We give, give, give, and we never ask for anything in return.”
“So then … why?” Maggie didn’t want to make Ms. Pinkerton more upset than she already was, but she also didn’t want her storming out in a huff before saying what was really going on.
As Ms. Pinkerton resumed pacing, her furry black boots reminded Maggie of fluffy little dogs. “See that kid dozing off in his high chair over there?”
Maggie and her teammates looked toward the lifeguard stand. The guard was slouched over his rescue tube, twirling his whistle cord around one finger and staring at the wall clock on the other side of the pool. Every now and then he blinked suddenly and lifted his head, like he’d started to fall asleep before remembering that he wasn’t home in bed.
“Guess how much that supposedly CPR-certified and exceptionally skilled life preserver makes an hour.”
“Ten dollars?” Maggie offered. She’d made about that much as a junior swim instructor at Camp Sound View over the summer.
Ms. Pinkerton snorted. “If that were true, you’d all be wearing gold goggles rimmed with diamonds.”
“Twenty?” Shasta suggested.
“The goggles would be silver, but you’d still get the rocks.” Ms. Pinkerton stopped walking, clasped her hands behind her back, and faced them. “Fifty.”
Maggie’s mouth dropped open as her teammates gasped.
“Think about it. In season, the girl’s swim team meets for two hours every day, five days a week. That means every week the school’s paying Lazy Larry—”
“Five hundred dollars,” Maggie said, calculating quickly.
Ms. Pinkerton paused, letting the number sink in. “And that’s just for us. The Water Wings also meet for two hours every day, five days a week. They usually meet after we do, which means Lazy Lamont, Lazy Larry’s lifeguard friend, gets another five hundred dollars. That’s a thousand dollars every week.”
“Can’t they trade in Lamont and Larry for cheaper lifeguards?” Shasta asked.
“I’ll do it for forty,” Kim quipped.
“No, they can’t hire cheaper lifeguards,” Ms. Pinkerton said, ignoring Kim’s offer. “There are rules. What if one of you smiles a little too wide while thinking of your boyfriend underwater and starts choking? Someone slightly more qualified than Ms. Hu will have to clear your lungs and save your life.”
Maggie looked down, suddenly very interested in her backpack zipper. Lately, she’d found herself thinking of Arnie at all sorts of strange times—while brushing her teeth, or chasing Summer to the TV remote control, or reading A Tale of Two Cities before bed. That was on top of all the other thinking about him she did during the times she expected to think about him, like when they were on the phone, or while her mom was driving her to and from Patrol This, or every time she looked at the silver bracelet with the aquamarine stone on her wrist. She’d always thought of only one thing while swimming during practice and meets, and that was to move as far as possible, as fast as possible. Would unexpected thoughts of Arnie surprise her underwater—and slow her down?
“And the lifeguard situation is only part of the problem,” Ms. Pinkerton continued. “Keeping a pool up and running is very expensive. Everything in and around it costs money—the water, lights, maintenance. And then there are the extra costs associated with it being a school pool, like custodial services and after-hours security. Unfortunately, the school’s wallet has slowly been growing thinner, and this year, it’s just about empty.”
“Can’t we share the pool?” Maggie asked amid groans. It wasn’t an ideal solution—the swim team and Water Wings didn’t exactly coexist harmoniously—but swimming near them had to be better than not swimming at all.
“Brilliant suggestion, Bean.”
Maggie smiled.
“And the board already thought of it.”
Maggie’s smile faded.
“As you know, the pool has always been shared—we split it with the boys’ swim team, and the Water Wings split it with water polo. But now there will only be one girls’ team sharing with one boys’ team, for one two-hour session every day.”
“So either the boys’ swim team or the water polo team has to go too?” Shasta asked.
“Yes,” Ms. Pinkerton said. “And since boys are genetically predisposed to be more immature and illogical than girls, they’ll probably duke it out with fists and fury. I hope we can be a bit more civilized.”
“What do we have to do?” Kim asked.
“And how much time do we have?” Shasta added.
“We have four weeks,” Ms. Pinkerton said. “At the end of the month, the school board wants representatives from every team to make a presentation. Based on those, they will decide who stays and who goes.”
“That’s not fair!” Maggie declared.
Ms. Pinkerton looked at Maggie with a combination of amusement and annoyance by the outburst.
“I’m sorry,” Maggie said. “Or, no—I’m not. Because it isn’t fair. You know it. We know it. And they definitely know it.”
“They are kind of acting like they’ve already won,” Kim said glumly when Maggie nodded to the Water Wings.
“How can they be laughing at a time like this?” Shasta marveled.
It was true. While Maggie and the swim team members were stressing about whether they would ever get to do what they loved to do again, the Water Wings were talking, smelling their pink roses, and laughing every time Anabel and Julia spoke. They looked like they were just killing time until given the green light to put on their signature silver swimsuits and dive on in.
“The Water Wings always get what they want,” Maggie said. “Everyone loves them. All of our teachers think they’re so pretty, and sweet, and talented. It would be one thing if we were deciding among ourselves, or even flipping a coin … but if the school board is making the call, we don’t stand a chance.”
“Wrong, Bean,” Ms. Pinkerton said gruffly, stepping toward her. “Not everyone loves them.”
Maggie leaned back and looked up. Ms. Pinkerton stood so close, Maggie could see clumps of black mascara gluing her eyelashes toget
her.
“You work hard,” Ms. Pinkerton said. “You all work hard. Yes, you can be whiny, and bratty, and downright intolerable. But you focus when it matters. You pull it out when it counts. And for that reason, I think you deserve to be in that pool more than anyone.” She squared her shoulders and stepped back. “And we’re going to make it impossible for them to say no.”
“How do we do that?” Kim asked.
“We do what every great and successful group has done throughout time.” Ms. Pinkerton’s eyes traveled slowly across the bleachers. “We pick a leader.”
“That’s easy,” Shasta said lightly. “No one can say no to Ms. P!”
“Probably the smartest thing to ever come out of your mouth, Lorne.” Ms. Pinkerton shook her head. “But I’m not an option. The board wants to hear from ankle-biters only.”
Maggie mentally reviewed the team roster. Shasta was likable but flighty. Kim was solid underwater, but cracked like an egg at the first sign of pressure on land. Jessica Phillips was smart but disorganized. Anna Shay was organized but forgetful. Libby Bernard remembered everything, but could be unintentionally condescending. Samantha Jack was great with adults, but not so much with her peers. Amelia Gregory was smart and organized, but shook like a leaf in the spotlight.
Maggie’s brain lingered on Amelia. Maybe they could work on her public speaking. They could have trial presentations—maybe start her out in front of one or two people, and build from there. After a month of training, speaking in front of the school board would be a piece of cake.
Maggie looked up to suggest Amelia—and her eyes locked on Ms. Pinkerton’s. She’d been so busy silently choosing a candidate, she hadn’t noticed everyone grow quiet, or Ms. Pinkerton watching her. “What?”
“Don’t ask me.” Ms. Pinkerton nodded toward the bleachers behind Maggie.
Maggie turned slowly in her seat, the pink in her cheeks slowly deepening to maroon. Shasta, Kim, Jessica, Anna, Libby, Samantha, Amelia, and the rest of her teammates were looking at her and smiling.
“What?” she asked again, even though she already had a pretty good idea.
“You have to do it,” Shasta said, her green eyes glittering.
“Have to,” Kim seconded.
“You’re the only one who can,” Anna added.
Maggie shook her head. “No. No way. I’m sorry—I care about our team and will do just about anything else to help. But not this.”
“But, you’ve done it before,” Libby said. “You’ve gone up against those vultures and won.”
“Won?” Maggie repeated.
“They didn’t want you on the team,” Samantha said, “but the judges did. After you stood up to them, you had an open invite. And you turned them down to join our team instead.”
“It can be like last year all over again,” Shasta said excitedly. “Except this time, you can finally get the ultimate revenge.”
Like last year all over again. . . .
There were parts of last year that hadn’t been entirely, excruciatingly painful—like meeting Arnie, becoming good friends with Peter, and joining the swim team—but the rest of it was better left in the past. The battle with Anabel and Julia had been long and embarrassing, and Maggie had no desire to ever engage in Water Wings War II. She knew they would never be friends, but she was perfectly content with not being bitter enemies.
Maggie turned away from her beaming, expectant teammates and looked at the pool. A lot had happened because of that pool. She’d become a stronger, more confident person, and wouldn’t be who she was today without it. All summer long she’d counted down the days until she could jump back in, start swimming, and feel her arms and legs cutting through the cool, clear water. And now she might never have the chance to swim there again.
She didn’t need the ultimate revenge. This wasn’t about giving the Water Wings what they had coming. It was about keeping what she deserved—what she’d earned. And, even more importantly, it was about making sure the Water Wings didn’t take away the chance to become a stronger, more confident person from anyone else.
“Okay,” she said finally, just as Anabel said something that made the rest of the Water Wings howl. “I’ll do it.”
6. “What do you know about memory?” Maggie asked, holding the cordless phone between her chin and shoulder to free her hands for typing.
“That it makes great, unforgettable memories,” Arnie said on the other end of the phone. “Like all the ones I have of you.”
“That you should enjoy it while you’re young,” her dad added, oblivious to Arnie’s response—and to her smile stretching from one ear to the other. He stood in the middle of the living room and circled slowly. “Now, let me see … where did I put that bowl of popcorn?”
“I think he’s officially lost it,” Maggie whispered into the phone. She eyed the puffy yellow mountain over the top of her laptop screen. Besides the TV, it was the tallest thing in the room, and couldn’t be missed. “You mean that bowl of popcorn?”
Her dad kept turning until he faced the coffee table. “There it is!” He grabbed a handful of popcorn, tossed a few kernels in his mouth, and smiled at Maggie. “See?”
“I’m serious.” Maggie shook her head when he held the bowl toward her, and then returned her attention to the laptop screen. “I have a lot of work to do, and I don’t know if my computer can handle it.”
“Handle what?” her mom asked, coming into the living room with enough blankets to warm an entire Alaskan village.
“My life,” Maggie said with a sigh.
“Should I let you go?” Arnie asked, his voice concerned.
“No,” Maggie said quickly. “I can talk and type at the same time.”
“How are you that busy already?” Summer dropped onto the couch next to Maggie. “We haven’t even been back at school two weeks.”
Maggie turned the laptop so Summer could see the screen.
“I think that’s us … but I don’t see our faces.”
“Exactly.” Maggie turned the laptop back. Her desktop was so cluttered with saved documents, all that was visible in the wallpaper photo of her, Summer, and their mom squeezed into a hammock was their bare feet dangling over the sides.
“I’ll get it,” her dad said when the doorbell rang.
As her dad headed for the door and Arnie started telling her about his latest parental drama, Maggie clicked on the Excel spreadsheet icon in the top-right corner of the computer screen. Maggie’s Master Multi-Tasker, which she’d originally started to keep track of homework assignments, grades, and other short- and long-term academic goals, had expanded quite a bit in the past year, and was now bigger than ever.
In addition to several others devoted to school, there was a spreadsheet for homework, which she’d just updated with an assignment to read fifty pages of Little Women and a study plan for her science test next week. There was a spreadsheet for her weight, which she’d started back when she was trying to lose some and which she still maintained to make sure she didn’t regain any. She’d weighed herself and recorded the scale’s reading over the weekend, and was happy to see the column of 146s growing longer. There was a spreadsheet for Patrol This, which kept track of meetings, website updates, and possible blog topics. This spreadsheet was in addition to an entire separate Patrol This folder, which contained meeting agendas, activity ideas, and information about the kids. There were two spreadsheets for the swim team: one to track her swims and times, and the other to record her progress in saving the team. The latter page was alarmingly blank, since she had no idea how or where to even begin to save the team.
The last spreadsheet was a relatively new addition, and one she updated several times a week. After neglecting some of the most important people in her life over the summer, she’d added “MB VIPs” to make sure she didn’t leave anything—or anyone—out, no matter how busy she was.
It was a lot to keep track of, but definitely worth it—so long as her computer didn’t crash from the stress.
“So Dad said Mom needed to chill, and then Mom said Dad needed to get a clue, and the whole thing was just ridiculous.”
“I bet,” Maggie said, trying hard to hear everything Arnie said as she checked her “VIP” spreadsheet. She had Family Fun from six to seven, Aimee from seven to eight, and homework from eight to ten. Whoever was at the door wasn’t there for her.
“Hey, Mags.”
Maggie looked up. “Aimee?”
“Should I call back?” Arnie asked.
“No,” Maggie said automatically. This was their scheduled phone time. She’d looked forward to it all day.
Aimee stood in the living room doorway and offered a small smile. “Sorry, I know I’m a little early.”
“Don’t be silly!” Her mother took a white fleece blanket from the pile of extras at the end of the couch, hurried across the room, and wrapped the blanket around Aimee’s shoulders. “We were just getting ready for a little friendly game show competition. You can be on my team for Wheel of Fortune.”
“And then you can switch over to mine for Jeopardy!,” her dad added. “If I can’t remember where I put the popcorn when it’s right in front of my face, there’s no way my brain has any room for European bodies of water or Nobel Prize winners.”
Maggie rolled her eyes playfully when her dad winked at her. It was hard to believe that this time a year ago he was so down about losing his job that he’d had a hard time even getting off the couch. Back then, they lived in a smaller house and had trouble paying rent. Now, her dad was a senior project manager at Ocean Vista Pools, and they had a beautiful home of their own.
“Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Bean,” Aimee said. “But, actually, I was hoping maybe Maggie and I could talk about some very important business.”
“Business?” Maggie looked at the spiral notebook tucked under Aimee’s arm.
“Yes.” Aimee’s voice was excited as she stepped into the living room. “I know this is Family Fun time, but I just couldn’t wait to talk to you. Do you mind if we go over a few things? I promise it won’t take long.”
Maggie Bean in Love Page 4