Maggie Bean in Love

by Tricia Rayburn

  Maggie had invited Aimee over to work on their reports, but hoped that after a few hours together Aimee would finally talk about what was going on with her parents. There were only nine days left before Aimee had to make her decision, and Maggie knew she was starting to panic. Maggie knew this not because of anything Aimee said or didn’t say about her parents … but because she wouldn’t stop talking about the swim team.

  “What about mixes?” Aimee asked, pulling a stack of CDs from her backpack. “We can import all of these into your computer and pick and choose songs to make themed playlists. The possibilities are endless. We can do one for studying, one for exercising, one for riding the bus, whatever. I have, like, hundreds of blank CDs at home, so it wouldn’t cost us anything.”

  “Except time,” Maggie said. “Sorting through all those songs to find the right ones to ride the bus to could take hours. Then we’d have to burn the CDs, label them, and hand them out.”

  “I’ll do it.” Aimee’s eyes were bright as she sat up straight. “I’ll do it all. I have time. I don’t mind.”

  Maggie frowned. “There’s also the fact that everyone at school already has at least thirty free iTunes. They can download their own songs and make their own themed playlists. We’d still be the runner-up.”

  Aimee’s shoulders slouched as she looked down at her notebook. “How about a bake sale? Or a yard sale? We can sell stuff to make money to help lower the cost of keeping the pool open.”

  “The Water Wings already gave out free brownies, so I doubt anyone would pay for ours. And my family had a yard sale before moving into this house. Do you know how much we made?”

  Aimee tilted her head as she tried to calculate the monetary value of the old belongings of a family of four.

  “A thousand? Two thousand?”

  “Eighty-three dollars. And that was after ten hours of tough negotiations.”

  “What if we gave out brownies and mix CDs at the yard sale? We could advertise the freebies, which would attract people who wouldn’t normally come, and then once we got them there, we could use our wit and charm to convince them to buy stuff.”

  “Aim, your wit and charm are powerful weapons, but I don’t know if they’re enough to convince people to buy our old clothes and toys.”

  Maggie watched Aimee flip forward a few pages in her notebook. She was frustrated, but unwilling to give up. Maggie wanted to let her talk about things on her own, and was beginning to worry that that wasn’t going to happen. Part of her wanted to relent and agree to Aimee’s suggestions—not because she thought they could still save the swim team, but because she wanted Aimee to be happy—but a bigger part knew that would only make things harder. The longer Aimee avoided the decision, the less time she’d have to think about it, and the tougher it would be to make it.

  “I’ve got it!” Aimee’s voice was triumphant as she tapped a pen on her notebook. “This is perfect. What if we—”

  “Aim.”

  “Mags, this is the best idea yet. We just need to—”

  “Aim,” Maggie tried again, louder.

  “I know you said you were done fighting, and I know some of the other ideas were kind of lame. But this one, Mags, this one is—”

  “Aimee.”

  She stopped tapping the notebook and looked up. “What?”

  Maggie pushed her history textbook to the side and scooted down the bed. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for the swim team. I really do. Without you, we never would’ve gotten the hundred and three signatures we did. We probably wouldn’t have even had a petition.”

  Aimee shrugged and offered a small smile. “I’m happy to help. That’s what best friends do.”

  That’s what best friends do. Maggie hoped she remembered that when Maggie said what she was about to say.

  “Aim, I know,” Maggie said gently. “I know about your parents.”

  “My parents?” Aimee shook her head, confused by the sudden topic change. “Of course know you about them. So does your family. So does anyone living within a fifty-mile radius of my house. I’m pretty sure that’s how far away you can hear them yelling.”

  Maggie’s eyes held Aimee’s. “I mean I know what happens in nine days. I know about the decision you have to make.”

  Aimee’s blue-green eyes widened. After a second, she looked away and started gathering her books and highlighters on the bed. “If you’ve given up, that’s fine—but there are still fourteen other girls who want to keep swimming. I’m sure they’d love to hear my ideas.”

  Maggie reached forward and grabbed Aimee’s hand. “Like I said,” she continued, her voice steady, “I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done. But … you’re not even on the swim team.”

  “So?” Aimee stared at Maggie’s hand on top of her own.

  “So … I know you want to help, but I think you also might be focusing on the swim team to keep from focusing on what’s going on at home.”

  “Of course you do.” Aimee tugged her hand free and started shoving books in her backpack. “And that makes it the truth, right? If Maggie thinks that’s what’s going on, then that must be what’s going on.”

  Maggie sat back. She’d expected reluctance, maybe a little resistance—but she hadn’t expected an attack.

  “How do you know, anyway?” Aimee stopped filling her backpack and looked at Maggie. “How did you find out? Did my mom tell yours?”

  Maggie suddenly wished that was how she’d found out. As annoyed as Aimee sounded by the idea of her mother talking about their private family issues with other people, Maggie knew she was about to become even more upset.

  “I saw it in your notebook,” Maggie admitted. “A few weeks ago, when you were over here and went to the kitchen to get a snack. I just wanted to get a closer look at your swim team notes.”

  Aimee’s fair skin slowly turned peach.

  “I didn’t mean to see it, I promise,” Maggie said quickly. “It was just there. And since you didn’t tell me what was going on your own, I figured you just weren’t ready to talk about it. I wanted to wait until you brought it up.”

  Aimee zipped her backpack and slid off the bed.

  “We talk about everything,” Maggie said, jumping to her feet. “That’s what we do. And I thought we should talk about this before it was too late.”

  “Too late?” Aimee asked. “For who? You? Did you plan to bring this up tonight? Was this my square on your spreadsheet schedule?”

  “That’s not fair.” Maggie had marked it on her spreadsheet, but only because she wanted to make sure they had enough time to talk about everything that needed to be talked about. “And I only keep a schedule to make sure everything gets done. It’s hard to do, especially when people drop by without warning and change my plans.”

  Aimee’s eyes narrowed. “You want to know what’s not fair? Spending hours every day trying to help someone who only wanted to give up.”

  “What does that mean?” Maggie could hear the defensiveness in her voice. “You know I love the swim team. I agreed to be the leader, didn’t I? Even though I had a million other things to do? I stood in the rain, and sat at that table every day, and talked to people I never talked to before, just so the swim team could go on.”

  “Yes, you sat at a table—to collect signatures for a petition I created.”

  “A petition you insisted on. I told you I didn’t think that would be enough to convince the board that we deserved the pool more than the Water Wings did.”

  “You’re right.” Aimee nodded. “You did. What you didn’t do was come up with a better idea. Even Brainless and Babbling Barbie came up with Frappuccinos and pool parties.”

  “Excuse me for not wanting to stoop to bribery,” Maggie said, her cheeks burning. “And maybe I did give up. But at least I didn’t win by buying people off.”

  “Well, congratulations. Now you’ll have oodles of extra time to stare at your computer screen and plan your life instead of living it.”

  Maggie’s
chin dropped. Aimee’s face softened slightly, as if for just a second she wanted to take back what she’d said, but then she raised her eyebrows without speaking or looking away. They probably would’ve stood like that for hours—both worked up and neither wanting to be the first to give—if Maggie’s mom hadn’t poked her head into the room right then.

  “Maggie?” she asked, peering around the edge of the open door. “Sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor.”

  “Arnie?” Maggie glanced at Aimee as he hurried into the room. “Were we supposed to get together tonight?” Her heart thumped in her chest. Had she double-booked?

  “Nope.” He smiled at her, then at Aimee. “And I know you’re busy. I just wanted to give you a little something to keep you going in case you end up working late.”

  “Hot chocolate?” Maggie took the cardboard cup holder from him.

  “And Friends.” He crossed the room, placed a portable DVD player on her desk, and turned it on. “I thought maybe you could watch for a few minutes if you start to feel tired or stressed. Sometimes a good laugh is better than eight hours of sleep.”

  “Thanks,” Maggie said, wondering if Aimee found Arnie’s TV-show choice ironic too. “I’m sure it’ll be very helpful.”

  “Great.” He made sure the DVD worked and then paused it on the opening credits. “So, have fun, and don’t work too hard. I’ll talk to you later.”

  After Arnie said good-bye and disappeared into the hallway, Maggie’s mom looked from Maggie to Aimee and back to Maggie. “I knocked, by the way. Three times.”

  Maggie looked at Aimee, but Aimee stared at the floor.

  “Anyway, your father would like to invite you to this evening’s viewing of Charlotte’s Web.”

  “Charlotte’s Web?” Maggie repeated.

  “Like, the movie with all the talking animals?” Aimee asked. “And Julia Roberts as the spider?”

  “Yes. I think it got very good reviews, and we—” Maggie’s mother stopped talking and looked behind her. When she turned back, she was trying not to smile. “Forgive me. Tonight’s selection is actually the original version of Charlotte’s Web, which originally aired a long, long time ago and does not feature Julia Roberts in any way, shape, or form.” She leaned further in the doorway and lowered her voice. “Your father just discovered the cartoon section on Netflix.”

  “Not cartoons,” Maggie’s dad called from the hallway. “Animated films.”

  Maggie’s mom rolled her eyes playfully. “In any case, cookies and Charlotte are in the living room if you want them.”

  “That’s nice,” Aimee said quietly after the door was closed and they could hear Maggie’s parents talking and laughing as they headed down the hallway. “The way Arnie tries to make you so happy. And the way your parents get along.”

  “It is.” Maggie nodded. “Summer and I are still getting used to our parents, but it’s definitely an improvement over last year, when . . .”

  “When they were fighting?” Aimee finished.

  Maggie didn’t say anything. Aimee had brought it up, but Maggie didn’t want it sound like she was rubbing in the fact that her parents were no longer fighting, since that was all Aimee’s parents were doing.

  Aimee dropped her backpack to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” Maggie said quickly, relief relaxing her muscles enough to step toward Aimee. “I didn’t mean to snoop, or spy. And I brought it up only because I was worried about you.”

  “I know.” Aimee sank to the floor. “The only reason I didn’t bring it up first was because I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know where to start.”

  Maggie sat on the floor in front of Aimee. They were so close, their knees touched.

  “I mean, I have a hard enough time picking out a pair of socks to wear every morning, and they expect me to pick one of them? Just like that?”

  Maggie shook her head. She hadn’t always gotten along with her dad, but even if her parents had decided to divorce during some of their worst times, she knew she still would’ve had a hard time choosing between them.

  “And all I can do is wonder why they’re putting this one on me. They decided to split up without asking for my opinion, so why the consideration now? Or is it not consideration? Do they just want someone else to make the decision for them?”

  “I don’t know,” Maggie said truthfully. “But it doesn’t seem fair.”

  Aimee looked down and absently played with her shoelaces. “It wasn’t fair of me to push the petition, or all the meetings and planning. It wasn’t fair of me to totally intrude on your date with Arnie.”

  “It’s okay. I really was grateful for your help, and know we wouldn’t have gotten that far without you.” Maggie shrugged. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Well, you were right. I was focusing on the swim team so I didn’t have to focus on my parents.” Aimee untied her shoelaces, retied them, and then looped them in a double-knot. “And I know I have to make this decision, I know that I only have nine days … but I don’t know when I’ll be ready to talk about it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to talk about it.”

  Maggie reached forward and tugged on the shoelaces in Aimee’s other sneaker until they came undone. “You know where to find me.”

  Smiling, Aimee started retying the shoelaces. “I do. Thanks.”

  “And in the meantime ,” Maggie said, bringing her legs to her chest and resting her chin on her knees, “if you need something else to focus on besides your parents—or your shoelaces—you can always help me move forward with Operation First Kiss.”

  “I’m ready for duty.” Aimee saluted Maggie. “I still have twelve packs of index cards, three Post-it pads, and six brand-new highlighters to use. What’s our next move?”

  The next move was to plan the most perfect, romantic date any couple had ever been on … the kind of date that would make two people who were once very much in love fall head-over-heels all over again. Considering the lack of kissing, Maggie didn’t think she and Arnie had reached the love stage—yet. But when they did, she wanted to make sure that nothing could pull them apart.

  17. “Can I have a hint?”

  “Nope.” Cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, Maggie grabbed a cookbook from the kitchen cabinet and added it to the pile on the counter.

  “How about a hint of a hint?”

  “I already told you that our next date is sure to be the best night of your entire life.” Maggie grinned at Arnie’s eagerness. “What more do you need to know?”

  “What to wear, for one,” Arnie said. “What if I show up in shorts and a T-shirt to go to the skating rink? I don’t think the best night of my entire life involves me trying to stay upright while shivering on blades of steel.”

  “We’re not going to the skating rink. And you can whatever you’re comfortable in. You can even wear pajamas, if you want.”

  “Interesting … I do have a new pair of awesome slipper socks I’ve been dying to show off.”

  “Perfect.”

  “But there’s also the issue of what time to show up. And where. And what I should bring.”

  “All you need to bring is yourself. I’ll take care of the rest. And as for when and where, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  Arnie paused. “Can I at least have a hint of a hint of when soon enough will be?”

  “Try to think of it like Christmas morning, when the presents are piled under the tree.” Maggie lifted the heavy stack of cookbooks, carried them across the kitchen, and placed them on the table next to four others she’d already looked at. “It’s exciting because you know they’re for you, but you have no idea what they are.”

  “I always know what my presents are. I send Santa a very long, very detailed list every year. And because I’m never naughty—and because Santa’s usually very busy closing deals and attending business meetings and doesn’t have much time to plan surprises—I always get everything I ask for.”

  “That’s just s
ad,” Maggie said, flipping through her mom’s Low-Sugar Showstoppers cookbook. “And it makes me even more determined to keep the surprise a surprise.”

  “Fine.” Arnie sighed. “It’s a good thing I still have to come up with an Abdominator exercise for the website this week. If I didn’t have that to keep me busy, I’d probably be calling every hour for updates.”

  “It is a good thing,” Maggie agreed. “Because you could call every minute, and you still wouldn’t get any updates.”

  “Well, no matter what, I know I’m going to have a great time.”

  “Me too,” Maggie said, her smile growing.

  After they said good-bye and hung up, Maggie flipped through the Low-Sugar cookbook in search of the perfect dessert to make for Arnie. She’d already found a recipe for the perfect dinner—chicken fajitas on whole-wheat tortillas with homemade salsa and guacamole—and the dessert had to be just as good. Because the meal was only the first part of the perfect night she’d planned for them, and she couldn’t risk any part of it being anything but perfect.

  As if seeing the plan would help her pick the meal’s grand finale, she slid her laptop down the table until it pressed against the cookbook. She opened Maggie’s Master Multi-Tasker, clicked on the Smooch tab, and reviewed the evening’s goals and itinerary.

  GOAL 1: Make up for any previous date awkwardness

  GOAL 2: Make sure Arnie knows how much I like him

  GOAL 3: First kiss

  ITINERARY

  4 p.m.: Bake dessert

  5 p.m.: Start cooking dinner

  5:30 p.m.: Get dressed

  5:45 p.m.: Prepare appetizers

  6 p.m.: Arnie arrives

  6:10 p.m.: Eat appetizers

  6:20 p.m.: Eat dinner

  7 p.m.: Eat dessert

  7:30 p.m.: Start entertainment

  8 p.m.: Have meaningful conversation

  8:30 p.m. (approx.): KISS

  9 p.m.: Family returns, Arnie leaves

  Maggie smiled at the computer screen. As soon as her mom had asked if Maggie would like to come with them to a birthday party for one of Summer’s friends, she’d known it was the perfect opportunity for a romantic night with Arnie. She’d had to tell a tiny white lie to get her mom’s permission to have Arnie over—which was that Aimee and Peter were coming over too—but it was a small price to pay for what the evening would bring. And, thanks to her careful planning, everything was coming together even better than she’d hoped. She’d already bought a new outfit and arranged the entertainment, so the only thing left to do before the big day was to try to not get nervous—and to find the perfect dessert.