The board members exchanged looks as Maggie approached them.
“We only got a hundred and eighty-five signatures,” she said, handing Mr. Marshall the clipboard. “But I know that over time, thousands of girls would love the chance to feel what I feel every time I’m in the pool.”
“Well, of course you felt better when you joined the swim team!” a female voice shouted suddenly. “You weighed more than all the other members combined!”
Maggie’s head snapped toward the crowd. She started for the edge of the stage for a better view of who’d just spoken, but stopped when a miniature torpedo came flying up the steps.
“Carla?”
“Hey, Maggie,” Carla said, running up to her. “I think I can help. Do you mind if I try?”
Maggie paused, and then nodded. There was no way she could say no to her biggest fan now.
“My name’s Carla Cooper.” Carla stood on tiptoe to reach the microphone. “Most of you don’t know me, because most of you don’t have time for sixth graders. And that’s fine—I know you’re busy. But the thing is, most of you probably also don’t have time for short people, or fat people, or people who read comic books, or who push their cars to school instead of drive them, and who keep their Christmas trees up all year long. Most of you don’t really want to get to know people who, at first glance, seem kind of strange. And by strange, I mean different from you.”
Maggie raised her eyebrows at Ms. Pinkerton, who nodded appreciatively.
“Anyway, that’s why I swim—and I weigh ninety-three pounds, by the way. I swim because when I’m in the water, I don’t feel small, or different. I just feel like me.” She paused by the microphone, as if to give her words a chance to sink in. After a few seconds, she pulled a packet of papers from her pocket and dashed toward the board members. “That’s two hundred and eleven more signatures for the swim team, courtesy of the sixth grade. Oh, and five more at the bottom, courtesy of the school custodial staff.”
“Carla!” Maggie put one arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “That’s amazing!”
“And here’s a hundred and seven more, courtesy of the seventh- and eighth-grade guys.”
Maggie’s chin dropped as Peter Applewood hurried on stage and presented another packet of papers to the board.
“I waited at our lockers every day to talk to you about it,” he said, offering her a small smile. “When that didn’t work, I decided to try, anyway.”
“Peter, thank you,” Maggie said, suddenly feeling extremely silly for avoiding her locker. “I’m so sorry I’ve been MIA, I’ve just—”
“Mr. Marshall, esteemed board members, I’d like to say something, if that’s okay.”
“Dad?” Still thrown by Peter’s presence next to her, Maggie watched her dad lick popcorn butter from his fingers as he jogged up the steps.
“Hey, Mag Pie.” Her dad gave her a quick wink and then turned to the board. “I wanted to discuss this with my daughter beforehand, but I just got approval this afternoon and didn’t get to see her before the meeting.”
“Approval for what?” Maggie eyed the envelope in his hand.
“For this.” Her dad opened the envelope and took out a check. “Mr. Marshall, I’m a senior project manager for Ocean Vista Pools. Ocean Vista is very committed to giving back to the community, and would be honored to contribute to any maintenance and operating costs associated with the school pool. And by contribute, I mean cover.”
“What?”
“Sorry, sweetie,” her dad said, kissing the top of her head. “I wanted to tell you, but didn’t want to get your hopes up if it didn’t happen. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? Was he kidding?
“Mr. Bean, this is certainly very generous,” Mr. Marshall said. “If you’re sure, and if Ocean Vista’s sure—”
“We are.”
“Well,” Mr. Marshall said, exchanging quick looks with the other board members. “We’ll have to discuss the details … but if that’s the case, I don’t see why both teams can’t continue.”
As the adults shook hands and Ms. Pinkerton embraced a short man who’d jumped onstage and run right into her arms, Maggie looked out to the crowd.
Later, when she tried to recall everything about this moment, she might picture Anabel and Julia pouting at their mothers, Aimee hugging her parents, or the rest of the swim team exchanging high fives. She might hear the cheering and laughing, and feel the spotlight’s heat still warm on her skin. But she knew that whenever she thought of this moment, she would always think of one thing first.
And that was the red cardboard sign with glittery block letters that spelled out “I’M READY TO BE GREAT TOO.”
22. “I think I’m tone-deaf,” Maggie said when the TV squawked at her for the fifth time in five seconds.
“You’re not tone-deaf. You’re just dexterously challenged.”
Maggie giggled, which made her fall even further behind. Her fingers scrambled up and down the plastic guitar neck as red, yellow, and blue notes flew toward the top of the TV screen.
“I think I see someone clapping.” Arnie pointed to the animated audience when they booed Maggie’s character offstage without letting her finish the song. “That guy there. He’s totally buying your next record.”
Maggie was laughing so hard tears filled her eyes. “Now I understand why so many rock stars freak out and start breaking instruments,” she said, taking off the guitar. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”
“And all this time you thought I was just playing silly games,” Arnie teased. “Guitar Hero is actually a challenging exercise designed to test and train your agility, hand-eye coordination—and patience.”
“You must be really patient by now,” Maggie said, wiping her eyes. “You could probably sit on a polar ice cap and wait for it to melt before standing up again.”
“Probably,” Arnie agreed with a grin. “Speaking of ice, would you like some with water? I’m going to grab a bottle from the kitchen.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
As Arnie headed for the kitchen, Maggie flopped on the couch. This was the first time they’d hung out since the last time, when Arnie had fled her house like it was on fire. And unlike that time, they hadn’t planned to hang out. Maggie had been playing a late-morning game of Scrabble with her family when Arnie called and asked if she’d like to get together later in the day. She’d said yes without hesitating—or checking her schedule. She hadn’t known what to expect when she got to his house, but was happy when there turned out to be no expectations. Arnie hadn’t planned any specific activities, so they’d just been hanging out, talking, and laughing. And so far, it wasn’t weird, or uncomfortable. In fact, it was probably the most fun they’d had together in weeks.
“So what do you want to do now?” Arnie asked, coming back into the room. He handed her a glass of water with ice, flopped on the couch, and rested his feet on the coffee table.
“I don’t know.” Maggie shrugged and put her feet on the table next to his. “What do you want to do now?”
“I don’t know.” He tapped her right foot with his left one. “I guess it depends on the rest of your day. Do you have a lot of homework? Or swim team practice? Or plans to meet up with Aimee?”
“Nope, nope, and nope. The only thing I have to do today is not have anything to do.”
“That sounds like your best plan yet.”
Maggie gently swirled the ice in her glass. She didn’t want to ruin the casual, easygoing nature of their day, but there was one thing that needed to be talked about. And unfortunately, it couldn’t wait.
“Arnie,” she said.
“Maggie,” he said at the same time.
They looked at each other and smiled.
“Is it okay if I go first?” he asked. “It’s kind of important.”
“Go ahead.” Her heart raced as she wondered what important issue he wanted to talk about. Did he want to tell her everything that had bothered him over the past few weeks? Like
how she hardly spoke on the corn maze date? And how she didn’t seem to like the blueberry crepes as much as she should’ve at the country club party? And how he’d become the third wheel on their Bananarama date? And how she’d arranged a scavenger hunt without making sure he had adequate transportation first?
“I’m sorry.”
“What?” She’d just taken a sip of water and had to force it down her throat. “You’re sorry? Why?”
“Because I’ve never done this before.” He looked at her, and then at the glass in his hands. “I’ve never been someone’s … boyfriend.”
“Arnie,” she said quickly, “you’re the best boyfriend a girl could have. You could give classes on being sweet, and kind, and caring, and—”
“Pushy?” he added. “And scared?”
She frowned. If he’d been pushy and scared, she really hadn’t been paying attention.
“Maggie, meeting you and becoming your friend was the best thing that’d ever happened to me. And then when I told you I liked you, and you felt the same way, that was the best thing that’d ever happened to me. So when we started going on dates, I think I kind of went a little crazy trying to make them perfect. I thought if I didn’t, you might change your mind.”
“Change my mind?”
“About me. About us. I thought if being more than friends wasn’t what we both thought it should be, that we would go back to the way we were.” He sighed. “That’s why I planned the elaborate corn maze picnic. That’s why I invited you to my parents’ country club party without giving you more than an hour’s notice.”
“But an hour was all you had,” Maggie protested. “That was when you found out about the extra tickets.”
“Yes, but I didn’t stop to think that it might not be fair to you, and of your time. All I could think was that there was this perfect, romantic night, already arranged, and that I had to do everything I could to get you there. And then when you were there, I was so nervous, I pigged out on blueberry crepes and poured powdered sugar on your dress.”
“The crepes were delicious,” she assured him. “And I had a great time.”
He looked at her. “Do you know I’ve gained eight pounds since we started going out? Eight pounds of crepes, caramel apples, chocolate cake, and the cookies and chips I’ve been eating at home whenever I think I’m doing the wrong thing, or not doing enough.”
“Oh, Arnie. I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, instantly feeling terrible.
“It’s okay—it’s my fault. And it’s nothing a few more Abdominator moves won’t fix.” He lifted his feet from the coffee table, sat up, and faced her. “The point is, Maggie … I was so worried about us going back to the way we were that I forgot how great that was. I was trying to change something that didn’t need changing.”
“I did the same thing,” she said, her cheeks warming. “I thought being together meant that we were supposed to reach new levels—even though I didn’t really know what those were, or how we got there. I became so worried about certain things happening at certain times, that I forgot to just enjoy the moment. That’s why I planned that romantic dinner. I thought if I just cooked the right things, and picked the right music, and lit enough candles, that we’d become this amazing couple.”
“And we already were an amazing couple.”
She smiled.
“I’m sorry for that night too, by the way. You went to so much trouble, and I was too afraid of messing it up to not finish the scavenger hunt and ride my bike twenty miles in slipper socks.” He paused. “I also couldn’t admit that I’m allergic to tomatoes and avocadoes … and that beans give me migraines.”
“Migraines?” Maggie groaned and clapped one hand to her forehead. “How did I not know that? I’m a terrible girlfriend. Break up with me now.”
He looked at her, eyes wide. “That was a joke, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “But as your girlfriend, I should probably know things like the foods that cause you pain.”
“In that case, we should probably give the sweets a rest. Your chocolate cake was amazing, but I ate so much of it that my stomach held a grudge for days.”
“Done.”
He leaned back and put one arm around her shoulders. “So how about from now on, we plan to not plan quite so much? We’ll just take each day one at a time, and go from there?”
“That sounds great,” Maggie said, gently sliding out from under his arm and turning toward him. “I’m actually trying to plan less, in general. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
He looked confused. “But don’t you love to plan? And juggle spreadsheets?”
“I don’t know if ‘love’ is the right word. I was just so determined to be the best student, daughter, friend, and girlfriend—especially after falling off the planet last summer—that I wanted to make sure nothing fell through the cracks.”
“That’s because you’re you. You’re responsible.”
“I tried to be responsible,” she corrected. “But it backfired. I was so busy, things started slipping. The mailing I messed up?”
“That was an accident.” He shrugged. “They happen all the time.”
“Not to me.” She sighed. “Anyway, it got so bad that I gave up on the swim team. I convinced myself that it was okay that the Water Wings were winning the fight, because I was very busy and no longer needed the team the way I used to.”
“Well, now you don’t have to worry about that. The swim team was saved.”
She nodded and lowered her eyes.
“Maggie.” He leaned toward her. “What is it?”
“Too much.” She looked at him. “It’s too much. I wish I could do it all, but I can’t. Not if I want to do what I do the right way.”
He took her hand. “I’ll fully support you if you decide to study less and play Guitar Hero more.”
She laughed. “Unfortunately, I can’t give up on the grades. I’m kind of biologically programmed for academic overachievement.”
“But something has to go?” he asked gently.
“I have to study,” she said. “I have to swim. I have to—because I want to—spend time with my family, Aimee, and you. Those things aren’t negotiable.”
“What does that leave? You can’t really stop sleeping, eating, and showering.”
She winced apologetically. “How effective do you think Electra’s index card system is?”
“Patrol This?” He squeezed her hand. “Really?”
“I’ll finish this session,” she said quickly, “but after that … I think I might have to retire. I love the kids, and I love what we do, but it’s a big commitment. I thought I could make it work with everything else, but I can’t. And as much as I love it, at this point, it can’t be my main priority.”
He looked down at their clasped hands as he processed this. “Well,” he said after a minute, “we’ll all miss you. But maybe you can still contribute.”
“Contribute?” she said doubtfully. She hated disappointing him, but when she moved on from the group, she thought it had to be a clean break.
“Yes.” He raised his eyes to her and grinned. “Like, maybe you can find a few minutes every now and then to review my new Abdominator workouts before I post them on the Web?”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I think that can probably be arranged.”
“Great!” He jumped up, and still holding her hand, gently pulled her up with him. “I had an idea for the next one. I think it could be the best yet.”
“Yeah? I’m all ears.”
“Have you noticed how skinny all those rock stars are?” he asked, putting his arms around her waist and bringing her closer.
“They’re twigs,” she agreed. “Rails. Broom handles.”
“Except for Meatloaf,” he added. “Which is to be expected, I guess.”
She grinned and looked up at him. “You’re planning a Guitar Hero exercise?”
“We could call it ‘Rock Out Workout.’ What do you think?”
She wanted to answer, but was suddenly distracted by his voice growing softer, and his face nearing hers, and his eyes closing, and . . .
. . . their lips gently pressing together.
“I think,” she whispered without opening her eyes once his mouth lifted from hers, “that it’s the best one yet.”
As he hugged her tightly, she rested her cheek on his chest and smiled.
She didn’t plan it, so she hadn’t thought about it beforehand. But if this wasn’t love, she couldn’t imagine what was.
Maggie Bean in Love Page 18