Maggie Bean in Love

by Tricia Rayburn

  “Only because I’m standing next to you,” she said, and then immediately worried that that was too much.

  “Maggie . . .”

  She swallowed. He stood so close, she could see the toes of his shiny black shoes two inches away from hers. Was this it? Was it going to happen right here, before they’d even walked through the front doors? Wasn’t this too soon? Shouldn’t they wait until the end of the night, after they’d eaten and danced and were too tired to be nervous? Or did none of that matter? Since he was Arnie and she was Maggie, and the first kiss would be perfect, just because it was theirs?

  Deciding that was it, she raised her eyes and offered a small smile.

  “Yes?”

  He took another step toward her. She stopped breathing as her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She pressed her lips together to make sure the pink gloss was spread evenly, and noted the muffled jazz music coming from inside, the light wind lifting her bangs from her forehead, and the tiny white dot of dried toothpaste on Arnie’s chin. These were the things she’d want to remember later, the details she’d want to tell Aimee, her future children, and her children’s children.

  “I couldn’t wait . . .”

  She shivered as he spoke near her ear. This was it. This was really going to happen. She, Maggie Bean, former chocoholic and current girlfriend to Arnie Gunderson, was finally going to do what only a year ago she’d thought impossible.

  She was going to kiss a boy.

  “I was counting down the minutes … until I could give you this.”

  She kept her eyes closed as she waited for his mouth to press against hers. When nothing happened, she lifted her chin, just in case he wasn’t sure she was ready. When nothing happened again—and when she could smell blueberries and sugar mixing in the crisp fall air—she opened one eye, and then the other.

  “Crepes,” he whispered.

  “Crepes?” She eyed the white cloth napkin filled with gooey pastry he held in front of her face.

  “They’re like miniature pancakes filled with fruit, chocolate—whatever you want. They’re amazing, and they apparently go really well with champagne. I grabbed this one for you right before the adults started licking the empty tray.”

  “Oh.” She took the cloth napkin and fought a frown as a light dusting of powdered sugar landed on her mom’s black velvet dress. “That’s great. Thanks.”

  “Have you ever had one?”

  She shook her head and smiled. He looked so proud of his preparty present she didn’t want to let her disappointment show. Plus, it was only seven o’clock. Her curfew was ten, not midnight, but a determined Cinderella could still get her prince to kiss her in three hours.

  So as the muffled jazz music streamed outside and the wind lifted her bangs from her forehead, Maggie licked her lips, opened her mouth, and had her very first … crepe.

  Whatever happened the rest of the night, this was one moment she would never forget.

  15. “Do you think Ms. P would notice if I started using the window instead of the door to get to history class?”

  “Absolutely,” Aimee said. “Our lovelorn gym teacher is zeroing in on every unsuspecting target she can find. Who knew that up until this year she’d been in a good mood?”

  Maggie leaned against the wall next to their history classroom door and watched Anabel and Julia kiss their boyfriends like they all would never see one another again once the bell rang. “They have math this period, which is three hallways down, and their lockers are on the other side of the building.” She pouted at Aimee. “It’s like they know.”

  “They don’t know,” Aimee promised. “Even if they did, their agenda is much bigger than rubbing in the fact that they have boyfriends.”

  “That’s part of their agenda. It’s psychological warfare. They’re taking advantage of my weakened emotional defenses to distract me from saving the swim team.”

  Aimee raised her eyebrows and nodded to the travel coffee mug Maggie held. “How many of those have you had today?”

  “Not enough.” Sighing, Maggie held the travel mug to one side of her face as she passed the happy couples and entered the classroom.

  “I didn’t know you were a coffee drinker,” Aimee said as she and Maggie sat at their desks.

  “I am as of last night. I still had homework to do when I got home from the party, and needed it to stay awake. Then when I finally went to bed, I was so wired from the caffeine that I couldn’t sleep. So I just laid there, awake and depressed, until my alarm went off at five.”

  “And then you needed more to stay awake since you didn’t get any sleep?” Aimee guessed.

  “You got it.” Maggie took a sip and winced. “It’s terrible, by the way. I don’t know how people do this every day.”

  “Mags, I know this will probably sound totally crazy … but have you considered talking to Arnie about things?”

  “What’s there to talk about? He says he likes me, but he obviously doesn’t like me, like me. If he did, he’d want to kiss me. What teenage boy doesn’t want to kiss his girlfriend?”

  “Kissing usually goes with the territory,” Aimee agreed. “But there are no rules for this kind of thing. There’s no definite timeline. And you can’t compare your relationship to the saliva-suckers we just saw in the hallway.”

  “I guess,” Maggie said, sliding down her seat and hugging the travel coffee mug to her chest. After lying in bed and worrying all night about why Arnie hadn’t kissed her on her doorstep after having a great time at the country club party, she’d hoped school would help take her mind off of things. It hadn’t yet. “Anyway, how was the rest of your weekend? I’m guessing your mom wasn’t happy that you weren’t home for dinner the other night.”

  “Actually, I don’t think she noticed.” Aimee had been leaning toward Maggie but sat back and started pulling books from her backpack as soon as her mom was mentioned. “She and my dad were too busy having a heated discussion about who should get to stay in the house to notice. That’s what they’re calling their fights, now, by the way—heated discussions.”

  Maggie frowned. According to her schedule, they had thirteen days left until the school board meeting. That meant Aimee had thirteen days left before she had to choose between living with her mom or dad. And besides referring to their arguments and needing to get out of the house, Aimee hadn’t said one word about her deadline. Maggie didn’t want to push Aimee to talk about anything she didn’t want to—and she knew better than anyone that sometimes it was easier to pretend the problem didn’t exist rather than face it—but she was worried for her friend.

  “Aim,” she said gently, “I know this will probably sound totally crazy, but have you considered talking to them about things?”

  “What’s there to talk about?” Aimee borrowed Maggie’s response just like Maggie had borrowed Aimee’s question. “They say they love me, but they obviously don’t love me, love me. If they did, they wouldn’t make me—”

  Maggie had never disliked Ms. Pinkerton’s whistle more as it blasted through the classroom—and stopped Aimee from admitting for the first time what it was her parents were making her do.

  “Listen up, rabble-rousers.” Ms. Pinkerton dropped into Miss Wells’s chair, clasped her hands behind her head, and propped the heels of her white leather boots—which complemented a pair of royal blue cropped pants and an orange tank top—on the desk. “I interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you the following special presentation.”

  Maggie sat up in her seat, suddenly feeling more awake. Special presentations, which usually came in the form of documentaries or guest speakers, were always good for catching up on other schoolwork. Teachers liked to take advantage of the time off to nap in the back of the room, and since the brim of Ms. Pinkerton’s Yankees baseball hat was already lowered over her eyes, Maggie guessed she planned to do the same. That meant Maggie had just won forty-five extra minutes to read over her history report and pass a few notes with Aimee.

  Not
wanting the noise to invite any attention to her after the presentation had started, Maggie opened her spiral notebook and ripped out three pages. She was about to tear out a fourth when her classmates started whispering around her.

  “Thank you, Ms. Pinkerton, for that lovely introduction. You’re too kind.”

  Maggie’s head shot up.

  “What are they doing here?” Aimee whispered.

  “And thank you, children,” Mrs. Swanson continued before Maggie could answer. “We appreciate you taking a few minutes out of your busy days to learn about a very important cause. I hope you’ll accept these small gifts as tokens of our appreciation.”

  “No, thanks,” Maggie said when Mrs. Richards headed down the aisle between hers and Aimee’s desks and offered a small silver basket wrapped in iridescent cellophane.

  “Brownies, Red Bull, a Water Wings reusable water bottle, and fifteen more iTunes.” Aimee stared at the contents of her basket, which she’d quickly emptied onto her desk. “Unbelievable.”

  Maggie faced the front of the classroom where Mrs. Swanson was perched on Miss Wells’s desk. She wore gray, wide-legged wool pants, a silver silk blouse, and a gray cardigan that had to be cashmere. Mrs. Swanson might’ve been a mom, but she was still cool. And that wasn’t going to help the swim team’s cause.

  “What is Ms. P thinking?” Maggie hissed to Aimee. “She coaches the swim team. How could she let them invade her classroom like this?”

  “Maybe because it’s not really her classroom?” Aimee shook her head, like it was the only explanation she could think of.

  Maggie looked at Ms. Pinkerton, whose face was now completely hidden by the Yankees baseball hat. If she had a problem with the Water Wings mothers pushing their unfair, overpriced propaganda, she obviously didn’t plan to do anything about it then.

  “Now, as most of you have probably heard,” Mrs. Swanson said once Mrs. Richards had finished distributing the baskets and joined her on the desk, “the Water Wings are in a bit of trouble. And they really need your help.”

  “We’d like you to think of all the times the Water Wings have been there for you,” Mrs. Richards added. She clicked the remote control she held and the picture of the silver wings gave way to a shot of the Water Wings marching in last year’s Veterans Day parade.

  “They can’t be serious,” Aimee whispered. “Are they serious?”

  Maggie was too shocked by the image of the silver-suited girls marching with khaki-suited veterans to answer. She remembered that parade. The Water Wings had served as symbols of youthful support while the swim team had volunteered to build the float that carried Frank Merchant, the oldest living war veteran in their town.

  “The Water Wings aren’t just pretty girls in pretty swimsuits,” Mrs. Swanson added. “They’re not just about putting on a show. They’re about helping others, and bringing a close-knit community even closer.”

  Maggie swallowed a groan when the parade picture was replaced by one of Julia and Anabel smiling into the camera as they stood by a Christmas tree and handed presents to children in pajamas. Maggie remembered that, too. Last year, the swim team had banded together with the baseball and soccer teams to collect toys for children spending the holidays in hospitals. They’d spent a month collecting more than two hundred toys—which the Water Wings had spent an hour handing out.

  “The Water Wings understand the responsibility that comes with being the pillars that keep your school standing,” Mrs. Swanson said. “They embrace this power and work tirelessly to put it to good use.”

  “Pillars?” Maggie repeated as another picture of Julia and Anabel appeared. This one featured the Water Wings cocaptains actually looking away from the camera as they sat in the front row of a school board meeting.

  “They might want to stop buying iTunes and invest in a better graphic designer,” Aimee said.

  Maggie couldn’t help but smile. She’d been too annoyed to catch it, but Aimee was right. The school board meeting in thirteen days would be the first the Water Wings attended. In the picture before them, Julia and Anabel wore shorts and T-shirts while everyone else was bundled up in corduroys and down coats. They’d been Photoshopped in to make it look like they were sitting in the front row and listening attentively to the principal.

  “They’ll listen to your needs and fight for what you want. With your support, they’ll continue to support you.” Mrs. Richards clicked the remote control again, and a posed picture of Anabel offering to carry Julia’s books appeared. “And in addition to making sure your concerns are heard, they’ll make sure you enjoy school more than you ever have before.”

  Maggie scanned the room as Mrs. Swanson turned off the light and Mrs. Richards turned on an iPod with portable speakers. Her stomach flip-flopped when she saw that each and every one of her classmates was completely engaged in the special presentation. Most were even smiling. The only other times they looked so happy in history class was in the dead of winter, when heavy snowfalls led to early dismissals and they were minutes away from unexpected freedom.

  “Free Frappuccinos,” Mrs. Richards called out over the loud techno beats as a picture of Anabel and Julia holding frosty coffee drinks took over the screen. “If the Water Wings continue, you’ll find a Starbucks van in the school parking lot every Monday morning. The Water Wings will hand out complimentary beverages to help jumpstart your week.”

  Maggie glanced at Aimee. Her lips were pressed so tightly together, Maggie could see them turning white, even in the darkened room.

  “Free iTunes,” Mrs. Swanson announced next. “We hope you’re all enjoying some new music this week. If you help the Water Wings, the Water Wings will help your playlist stay fresh. Every time report cards are issued, you’ll receive more free iTunes—one song for every B, and five for every A.”

  Unfortunately, Maggie’s classmates were buying it. They even joined Mrs. Richards when she started clapping.

  “Lastly,” Mrs. Swanson continued, “the Water Wings understand that school can be tough, and that you all deserve a fun chance to recharge every now and then.”

  “Pool parties?” one of Maggie’s classmates declared.

  Maggie couldn’t stop her groan as another Photoshopped picture appeared on the screen. The real picture featured all of the Water Wings team members hanging out in the school pool in their silver swimsuits. Superimposed were images of their classmates, jumping off the diving board, drinking Frappuccinos while floating on rubber rafts, and dancing on the steps. Their heads were last year’s yearbook portraits, and their bodies were borrowed from magazines.

  “Is that me?” she asked Aimee, not bothering to whisper since the music was still pumping and everyone else was cheering. “Doing a cannonball into the shallow end?”

  “Afraid so,” Aimee said, squinting to make sure. “If it’s any consolation, I’m all the way at the edge of the picture, collecting empty plastic cups.”

  “Once a month your Water Wings will use their practice time to throw a school-wide poolside bash,” Mrs. Richards called out over the noise. “There will be music, dancing, eating, laughing, and, of course, swimming.”

  “All we ask is that you sign this petition now, and show up later,” Mrs. Swanson said, raising a silver clipboard framed in glittery rhinestones. “The Water Wings— yourWater Wings—will do the rest.”

  Maggie sank in her seat. As the unofficially official swim team leader, she thought she should probably try to defend their cause, but she didn’t know how. She could point out that the Water Wings hadn’t helped build Frank Merchant’s parade float, or collect toys for sick children, or fight the school board on behalf of the student body … but what was the point? How could the truth compete with free Frappuccinos, iTunes, and pool parties? And why should she risk looking like the bad guy by trying to take those things away from her classmates when Ms. Pinkerton, the real swim team leader, was completely oblivious and snoring like a lawn mower?

  Even Aimee, who’d voluntarily led the charge up
until now, looked more sad than angry. “There are six hundred kids in school,” she said. “We have a hundred and three signatures.”

  Maggie nodded, understanding the implication. After more than two weeks of trying to spread the word, they had the support of only half their own class. And that was support they’d gotten before the Water Wings announced their plans for an entire year of bribery. It wasn’t looking good.

  But as her classmates ate their brownies, drank their Red Bull, and gathered around the petition, Maggie thought that maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She was already pressed for time without daily practices and regular meets. She couldn’t imagine trying to find ten more hours in her schedule every week. And she was tired. Not just today, because of her sleepless night, but in general. She was so determined to be the best student, leader, daughter, friend, and girlfriend she could be, she didn’t let herself feel tired very often. But the truth was, she would’ve loved to switch places with Ms. Pinkerton. She would’ve loved to take a nap in the middle of the day, just because there was nothing more pressing to do. And she could still swim without a team—she’d just have to do so when she and the pool were both free at the same time.

  Which was why when Aimee pulled out the petition as they left the class at the end of the period, Maggie asked her to put it away.

  “What’s wrong?” Aimee’s voice was tense. “I know it seems impossible, Mags—I got overwhelmed in there too—but we still have time. We can’t give up.”

  “Give up what?”

  Maggie gripped her travel coffee mug and closed her eyes at the sound of the voice behind her. She usually didn’t mind Carla popping up without warning, but now wasn’t a good time.

  “The swim team,” Maggie said flatly, turning around. She shrugged as Carla’s face fell. “They won. It’s done.”

  16. Four days after the history class “special presentation,” Maggie and Aimee sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by notebooks, textbooks, and highlighters.