“Arnie has lips,” Maggie said, happy to go along with Aimee’s guess instead of quickly coming up with something to ask about besides her parents.
“You would never know it, considering he never uses them.”
“That’s not true. He used them on our last date, when he ate corn on the cob and a caramel apple. Try doing that without your lips.”
Aimee looked at her. “Anyway, if you want to know my opinion, then yes. I think you should make the first move. You might send greeting cards instead of text messages, but you, Maggie Bean, are still a modern woman. If you want to kiss your boyfriend, kiss your boyfriend.”
Maggie grabbed her water bottle to keep from fanning her face. Aimee was too polite to point it out, but Maggie knew her face was now a lovely shade of scarlet. And, like Aimee’s parents, the reason why her skin was now on fire was too big a conversation to have right then. She’d told Aimee all about her time in the corn maze—including that it was another date that had ended without a kiss—but left out one key part. And that was that she couldn’t blame Arnie for not kissing her, especially since she’d felt so bad for being annoyed that she hadn’t talked much during the rest of the night. She hadn’t wanted to say anything that might suggest she’d been less than thrilled with even one minute of their date, so hadn’t said much at all. What should’ve been a romantic, sunset picnic high above the corn stalks had turned into a quiet, sticky snack time.
She wouldn’t have wanted to kiss her either.
“I wanted to ask about Peter,” Maggie said suddenly.
“Peter?” Aimee shook her head, like she was hearing things. “Peter Applewood?”
Maggie nodded. It wasn’t true, but it could’ve been something she would’ve wanted to talk about with Aimee. And it was definitely better than delving any deeper into her romantic imperfections.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually considering going to your locker,” Aimee said, reaching into her backpack for the petition clipboard. “We’re only three weeks into the school year. You can still put off the inevitable for months.”
“I won’t tell you I’m considering going to my locker … because I’ve already gone.”
Aimee’s hand froze in her backpack. “What? When?”
“Last week.” Maggie shrugged. “It was no big deal.”
“That’s so not true. If it wasn’t a big deal you wouldn’t have waited so long to bring it up.” She yanked out the clipboard and leaned toward Maggie. “What happened? Was it weird? What’d he say?”
“It was weird,” Maggie admitted, “but I didn’t actually talk to him.”
“Oh.” Aimee sat back, placed the clipboard on the table, and lined up a row of pens next to it. “So then why was it weird?”
Maggie was relieved when the front door flew open and Carla came flying through. “Your mom’s car okay?”
“What?” Carla asked, like she hadn’t just been pushing the old green truck through the parking lot. “Oh, right. It’s fine. It just needs a little nudge every now and then. I’ll go back out in a few just to make sure it’s still moving down the street.”
“Carla,” Aimee said sweetly. “Why did you want to find us here earlier than usual?”
Maggie bit back a smile. Aimee sounded perfectly nice, but Maggie knew she was trying to keep Carla focused so that they could find out what she wanted, say good-bye, and get back to their conversation.
“Something happened last night.” Carla pushed up her bangs with both hands, inhaled deeply, and exhaled loudly. “Something terrible. Something awful. Something that I never would’ve thought was possible if I hadn’t seen it happen with my own two eyes.”
Maggie looked at Aimee, who was watching Carla expectantly.
“And?” Aimee prompted when Carla paused for dramatic emphasis. “What terrible, awful, almost impossible thing did you see?”
“I don’t like to be the bearer of bad news,” Carla said. “The messenger. The person who has to tell people things they don’t want to hear. The—”
“Carla,” Maggie said gently, before Aimee’s patience ran out. “What is it?”
Carla’s eyes were wide as she looked at Maggie. “It’s Anabel. And Julia. They’re—”
“Here.”
Maggie jumped as the heavy front doors flew open.
“You can put it all … right … here.” Anabel strode across the entryway and pointed to a patch of floor directly across from Maggie and Aimee’s table.
“I’m too late,” Carla groaned, smacking one hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten here earlier. I should’ve tried to find your phone number last night and called you as soon as I knew. I should’ve—”
“Carla.” The artificial sweetness was gone from Aimee’s voice. She was ready to listen to whatever Carla had come to tell them. “What happened last night?”
Carla’s face went from worried to panicked as two guys from the school football team placed a tall stainless-steel table and four matching chairs in the spot Anabel had pointed to. Once the furniture was in place, the guys, who were apparently Anabel’s and Julia’s new boyfriends, planted quick pecks on the girls’ cheeks and jogged back outside for another load.
“It started out like any other night,” Carla whispered, turning back to Maggie and Aimee. “Mom was bidding on antique cookie jars on eBay, I was reading my new Betty and Veronica Double Digest comic book, and Polly, our hairless cat, was sleeping under the Christmas tree.”
“Your hairless cat?” Aimee asked.
“The Christmas tree?” Maggie added. “It’s only September.”
“Polly was a rescue and Mom likes to keep the tree up all year long,” Carla explained quickly. “It’s her favorite work of art.”
Maggie felt Aimee trying to catch her eye, but stayed focused on Carla. Julia had joined Anabel in the entryway, and they were stringing white lights along the tall table as the boys brought in cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Maggie didn’t know what they were up to, and she wanted to get as much information as possible so she and Aimee weren’t totally blindsided. “So your mom’s bidding, you’re reading, and Polly’s sleeping,” Maggie said. “What happened next?”
“The doorbell rang.” Carla shook her head slowly, like she was still struggling to make sense of it all. “And it wasn’t Tuesday, when Mom’s Tupperware friends come over, and it wasn’t Thursday, when her candle-making crew gets together. It was Wednesday. No one ever comes over on Wednesday.”
“Wow,” Julia called out suddenly. “Who knew tossing a little old football could make someone so strong?”
“Talk about tossing,” Aimee muttered as one of the guys lifted an enormous box with one hand and grinned. “I think I might lose my breakfast.”
“Carla.” Maggie made herself look away from whatever was happening across the room. “Who was at the door? Was it Julia and Anabel?”
“Worse.” Carla winced, the pain caused by the evening’s traumatic events still fresh.
“What could possibly be worse than finding Brainless Barbie and Babbling Barbie standing on your doorstep?” Aimee asked.
Carla opened her mouth to answer just as the front doors swung open again. Two women wearing matching gray cashmere loungewear floated into the entryway, as if carried by the dozens of silver balloons that bobbed gently over their heads.
“No, no, no, girls,” one of the women said, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Have we been leaning a little too close to our open nail-polish bottles again?”
“That’s not even close to what we discussed,” the second woman said, her long blond ponytail flicking back and forth as she shook her head disapprovingly. “I told you having bananas with your cereal this morning would put you in a sugar coma.”
As Anabel and Julia started pulling off the string of lights they’d just draped across the table, Carla looked at Aimee. “You asked what’s worse than finding Brainless Barbie and Babbling Barbie on your doorstep?”
“F
inding their mothers,” Maggie said flatly. It had been almost a year since she’d seen them at Water Wings tryouts, but she recognized Mrs. Swanson and Mrs. Richards immediately.
“Why were Anabel’s and Julia’s mothers at your house?” Aimee whispered. “What did they want?”
Carla reached into the back pocket of her jeans, pulled out a small card, and handed it to Aimee.
“‘Get in the Groove,’” Aimee read aloud. “‘Let the Water Wings help you shake what your momma gave you.’”
“I guess I’m not the only one who still buys greeting cards,” Maggie said when Aimee handed her the card. The front was white and featured a pair of shiny silver angel wings surrounded by small silver music notes. “I would’ve thought the Water Wings were more technologically advanced.”
“They are,” Carla said. “The e-mail reminders went out early this morning. But they had to have something to hold the bribe.”
“iTunes?” Maggie’s chin fell to her neck as she opened the greeting card and found the gift card inside.
“Fifteen free songs, courtesy of the Water Wings and their mothers,” Carla said.
“With the promise of another fifteen when you sign their petition?” Aimee’s voice grew louder as she leaned toward Maggie and read the inside of the card. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wish I was,” Carla groaned. “Apparently, they’ve been driving around and dropping off cards all week. Monday was the eighth graders, Tuesday was the seventh graders, and last night was the sixth graders.”
“I was home on Monday night,” Maggie said. “I didn’t get a card.”
“You’re the competition, Mags.” Aimee’s eyes narrowed as she watched Mrs. Richards attach a bunch of silver balloons to one end of the stainless-steel table. “If you want to shake what your momma gave you, it’s not going to be on their dime.”
“But I don’t understand.” Maggie frowned. “It is a competition. They can get a thousand signatures like that, but it won’t be because everyone who signs really thinks the Water Wings should stay.”
“Not to mention that the petition was our idea,” Aimee said. “They stole that, they’re going to steal signatures, and they’re going to try to steal the pool. They probably even stole the iTunes gift cards.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Carla said with a heavy sigh.
“You can take a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink?” Maggie asked hopefully.
Aimee looked at her. “Who says that?”
“My mom,” Maggie said. “She used to say it when Summer and I wouldn’t eat vegetables. Now she says it when she gives Dad directions to whatever electronic device he can’t make work.”
“My mom says it too,” Carla added, “except she means it literally. Our miniature pony will only drink milk.”
Maggie bit back a smile as Aimee raised her eyebrows.
“But that’s not what I was going to say,” Carla continued, sinking into the metal folding chair next to Maggie’s. “What I was going to say is that what they say … is that all’s fair in love and war.”
Maggie looked across the room. Carla was young, but she was right. If Anabel and Julia had enlisted their mothers and resorted to bribery to try to win the pool, then Maggie and the swim team would just have to come up with an even tougher strategy. They weren’t going to lose the war without a fight.
And as for all being fair in love … that was true too. If a relationship was going to move forward, someone had to make the first move.
Who said it had to be the boy?
13. Maggie arrived at the next Patrol This meeting prepared for battle. She’d woken up extra early and jogged around the neighborhood to clear her head and get her heart pumping. After taking a shower, she’d spent an entire hour—three times longer than usual—picking out the perfect outfit, drying her hair, and putting on makeup. Before leaving her house, she’d checked her purse three times to make sure the peppermint Life Savers and mint chocolate chip–flavored lip gloss were still tucked in the small interior pocket. She and Arnie were supposed to hang out after the meeting, and she was armed and ready to make her move.
“Hi.” She smiled brightly as she jogged up the elementary school steps.
“Hi.” Arnie hopped off the railing he’d been sitting on and slid his hands in his pants pockets.
Maggie’s heart skipped a beat when his smile seemed smaller than usual, but she quickly reminded herself that the last time they saw each other was on the corn maze date—the last part of which they’d spent picking caramel out of their teeth instead of talking. Because she’d been so quiet then, he probably wasn’t sure what to expect now.
But she knew what he could expect. And the thought made her smile grow.
“Are you ready for another session of your adoring fan club?” She stopped on the step below his.
“My fan club?” He sounded confused. “What fan club?”
Feeling the corners of her mouth start to dip, she forced them back up. “You know the only reason these kids come here every week is to hang out with their favorite idol, mentor, and comedian. Electra and I are just there to fill in if ever you need a break. We might as well change the name from Patrol This to Abdominate This.”
“Oh.” He looked down at his sneakers. “I don’t know about that.”
Maggie kept smiling, but wasn’t sure what to say as she looked down at her own feet. She couldn’t see them now because they were hidden under her black ballet flats, but she’d painted her toenails pink just for their date today. She wasn’t likely to take her shoes off, so Arnie probably wouldn’t see them, but she just liked knowing that her toenails were polished. She felt prettier, somehow. But as they stood there not speaking, she began to doubt that that was worth the ten minutes of extra preparation.
“Maggie and Arnie, playing with the Wii . . .”
Maggie spun around. Her smile disappeared as Lenny, the Christmas vacation boy from their first meeting a few weeks ago, bounded up the steps ahead of his mother.
“K-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Lenny sang triumphantly.
“Lenny!” his mother called after him. “Go directly inside. Do not pass GO, do not collect two hundred dollars. Do you hear me?”
Maggie was relieved when Lenny didn’t slow down as he puckered up and blew kisses at them.
“I’m very sorry,” his mother said, hurrying after him. “Just ignore him. That’s what we do.”
Arnie waited until they were both inside before turning back to Maggie.
“Maggie and Arnie, playing with the Wii?” she asked.
“Apparently, the ‘tree’ has become the Wii,” he explained. “Though as a video game expert, I have to say that I don’t think it’s logistically possible to kiss and hold the controller at the same time.”
“Kids,” Maggie said, shaking her head.
That got a small chuckle out of him, but after a few seconds they were both staring at their feet again.
“So we should probably head in,” Arnie said finally.
“Good idea,” Maggie agreed, following him as he turned and started up the steps. As they walked, she felt her confidence chipping away like the red polish that had been on her toenails before she’d repainted them. “Are we still hanging out today? After the meeting, I mean?”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “Sure. If you still want to.”
If she still wanted to? Why wouldn’t she want to? Did that mean that he didn’t want to?
“Of course I do,” she said. “Do you?”
“I do. If you do.”
She’d already said she did, and she wasn’t sure why he didn’t just know that she wanted to hang out with him. She realized she hadn’t acted quite like herself during the corn maze picnic, but that was one awkward night out of countless other amazing nights they’d hung out together. Did one less-than-perfect date discount all the perfect times that had preceded it?
Thankfully, they reached the crowded classroom before her confusion cou
ld spiral into panic. They both smiled as they stepped through the classroom door, and greeted the kids and parents like everything was fine—which Maggie really, really hoped it was.
She tried to not worry about it for the next hour. As they sat in a circle and discussed the benefits of snacking, played badminton in the courtyard outside, and weighed the kids behind the purple Patrol This curtain, Maggie focused on the meeting instead of on what had happened on the steps before the meeting and about what might happen after the meeting. And she made sure she didn’t let her mind wander to the one thought that was making focusing difficult: that it would be tough to win the love battle if she was the only one participating.
“Another successful session,” she said after the meeting, when the last kid-and-parent pair had left the classroom with Electra.
“Yeah.” He flashed her a quick smile as he turned off his laptop and wrapped up its power cord. “Not bad.”
She watched him wind the cord around his hand, and then grabbed a folder from her stack of Patrol This materials, opened it, and pretended to review some notes. Every now and then she peeked over the top of the folder, hoping—and failing—to catch Arnie looking at her. When his laptop bag was zipped and hanging over his shoulder, he scanned the room, as if searching for something else to keep him busy.
“Arnie—”
“Maggie—”
They both looked away and smiled.
“Is it me …,” he started after a minute, “or does this feel a little strange?”
She shook her head, simultaneously nervous and relieved. “It’s not you.”
“But we’re … this … it’s never strange.”
She started to step toward him, but then remembered why they were having the conversation and stopped. “I know.”
“I don’t want it to be strange.”
“Me neither,” she said quickly.
He nodded. She racked her brain for the right thing to say, but had no idea what that was. Up until very recently, words had always come easy around Arnie. They were so comfortable with each other, she never had to think about what to say next, or if she said something she shouldn’t, or if he meant something other than exactly what he said. This strained silence was new to them, and Maggie didn’t understand it. As a couple, she thought they should be better together than ever.
Maggie Bean in Love Page 10