Diary Two: Dawn, Sunny, Maggie, Amalia, and Ducky

by Ann M. Martin

  “Yess!” I shouted.

  Then reality hit me.

  “What am I going to wear, Amalia?” I moaned into the receiver. “What will we talk about? Help! I’m so nervous.”

  Amalia was great. She calmed me right down. She’s going to help me figure out what to wear. And we’re even going to think about subjects I can bring up to talk about. Maybe I’ll make a list.

  I’ll lose at least three pounds by Saturday. I will.

  I hope Justin isn’t too disappointed that I’m the only one who’s available to go to the film.

  Saturday 7/18

  6:24 P.M.

  WEIGHT: 100! NOT perfect, but getting there.

  I’m not going to write down what I eat anymore. It makes food too important in my life. I just won’t eat.

  Started the day by attending a meeting Mom had at our house for her committee. Good news: Mom didn’t serve her famous Bloody Marys, and, as far as I can tell, she didn’t sneak drinks.

  Curtis attended, and some of the committee members fed him nibbles of smoked salmon. We’ve decided he’s the mascot of the fund-raiser.

  While Mom conducted the meeting, her committee and I started stuffing donation requests into envelopes and putting on address labels and postage stamps. We used stamps with pictures of cats and dogs. Mom’s idea. I thought that was a nice touch.

  Our goal was to get fifteen hundred envelopes ready and at the post office before it closed at one o’clock. Mom asked me to bring the mailings to the post office and see them safely on their way. There are times when I have to admit that it’s handy to have a car and driver.

  Just before I left for the post office, one of the HCA shelters called to say they didn’t have mailings for their employees and volunteers to send out. Mom asked me to swing by there too.

  She gave me a big hug and my hair a little tug, the way she used to when I was a kid. “Thank you, honey,” she said. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

  It’s been a long time since she hugged me like that. It was just like the old Mom I can only vaguely remember.

  I had never been to an HCA shelter. This one was in a concrete building in a run-down neighborhood. I think it used to be a garage. There was a sign on the front that read ANIMAL RESCUE.

  I went inside. An elderly man was manning the front desk. He wore a name tag that read VOLUNTEER. A woman in a pale blue lab coat was giving him directions on what to do if someone called reporting a stray cat or dog. She was very efficient and seemed a little stressed out.

  Finally, the man looked up and asked if he could help me.

  “I’m Maggie Blume,” I told him. I put the pack of mailings on the desk. “My mother asked me to drop these off. Someone called and asked for them.”

  The woman smiled at me. “That was me,” she said. “I’m Piper Klein.” She shook my hand and told me how lucky HCA was that Mom was willing to take over the chairperson’s job for the benefit. I told her how much I admired the work of the HCA shelters and how a friend of mine had gotten his dog from one of them.

  “Have you been here before?” she asked.

  I told her I hadn’t and she asked me if I’d like a tour.

  I followed her into the back.

  A chorus of barks greeted us. “We have a dog run out back,” Piper explained. “But they have to take turns. Most of the day they’re here.”

  I counted twelve dogs. Mutts, pedigrees, short-hair, long-hair, small, big. There was one collie whose eyes broke my heart. He pushed his nose through the bars of his crate and whimpered. It was as if he were saying, “Take me. Love me.”

  Piper saw me looking at him. “Isn’t he beautiful?” she said. “That’s Laddie. He’s been here three months. Our problem is that we have more people bringing us animals then we have taking them home.” She went on to say that one of the things HCA wants to do with the money Mom raises is to have an advertising campaign. “A lot of people don’t even know we exist,” she told me.

  I looked around at the other dogs. Each was cuter than the next.

  “We should have photos of these dogs at the fund-raiser,” I said. “Cats too. Big poster-sized photos. People will see where their money is going. And maybe some of them will decide to adopt.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Piper said. She studied me for a second. “You really like animals, don’t you?”

  “I might be a veterinarian,” I told her.

  “Good for you.”

  She showed me the cat room next. The cats were as wonderful as the dogs and just as heartbreaking. All those animals living in crates. I wondered what kind of life Curtis would have had if I hadn’t kept him. Would he have ended up in a shelter? Would anyone have adopted him?

  Piper has a cramped office at the end of the hall. The window overlooks the dog run. “I have my office back here so I can keep an eye on things,” she said. Her desk was piled with papers. “My intern quit yesterday. She thought this would be a good summer job for meeting cute guys and all she met were cute dogs and cats.” She smiled at me. “I wish I could have an intern like you. But you’re probably all booked up for the summer.”

  I told her I was working for my father.

  She was disappointed. She’s placed an ad in tomorrow’s paper. She said she hoped someone as enthusiastic as me would see it and call her.

  Basically, Piper needs me. Dad doesn’t.

  I can’t get those animals out of my mind. I’d rather help them than work in Schmoozeville.

  Why can’t I do what I want?

  It’s not fair.

  I wish I had the courage to quit my job with Dad.

  If only I could get Mom on my side.

  9:30 P.M.

  I feel awful. Like I’ve done something wrong.

  Guilty as accused.

  But what crime have I committed?

  Tonight we had a “nice” five-course family dinner because it was Zeke’s last night before camp. Dad made a toast to Zeke and said he was sure Zeke would have a great time at tennis camp. Zeke mumbled he was sure he wouldn’t.

  Pilar came around with the soup course. I told her that I would skip it.

  She frowned.

  Dad launched into his Why-This-Camp-Is-Good-for-You-Son speech for the umpteenth time.

  Mom took a gulp of wine.

  We were off to a bad start.

  During the salad course Mom told Dad what she was doing for the fund-raiser. She said she was having trouble finding people willing to donate things to be auctioned off. Apparently, there’s another big benefit in Hollywood the same night. She told Dad she’s worried everyone will go to that benefit instead of hers.

  Then she refilled her wine glass.

  Pilar served cheese tortellini in a white cream sauce. I told her I didn’t want any.

  Dad noticed and frowned.

  Pilar glared at me.

  I hate eating with my family.

  No one said anything for a few minutes. Then Dad grumbled about problems he’s having with the casting of Never.

  Next Pilar served the main course—steak. I gave Zeke my steak after Pilar left the dining room.

  “How was your day, Maggie?” Dad asked.

  I told him about the shelter. Then I blurted out, “They need an intern for the rest of the summer. Piper—she’s the one in charge—asked me if I’d like to have the job. It’s a worthy cause.”

  “It certainly is,” said Mom.

  “You already have a job this summer,” Dad reminded me.

  “But it’s not the job I want,” I replied. Then—without taking a breath so he couldn’t interrupt me—I reminded him that I wasn’t working with the composer the way he’d promised and that he didn’t really need me.

  “It would be good for the benefit if my daughter works at an HCA shelter,” Mom said. She tapped her wine glass. Sometimes she’s nervous around Dad. Especially if she’s contradicting him.

  Pilar served dessert—ice cream and hot fudge. I knew that Zeke would polish mine off for m
e. So I let Pilar put a serving at my place.

  When she left the room, Dad pointed his spoon at me. “Are you telling me you would back out of your commitment to me because you found something that you like better?”

  “Well, you made a commitment too, Dad,” I said in a wavering voice.

  Do not cry, I warned myself. Do not cry.

  I sat straighter and tried to look my father in the eye.

  I couldn’t.

  But I kept talking. “You said I’d be working with Flanders, but instead all I’m doing is pouring coffee and running the photocopy machine. You have plenty of people who could do those things. Piper doesn’t have anyone. Those dogs and cats need me. You don’t.”

  “I certainly don’t need someone with an attitude like that!” Dad replied. “And don’t you raise your voice to me.”

  “You’re the one who’s screaming,” I mumbled.

  He glared at me again and took a deep breath. “This summer is stressful for me already, Maggie,” he said in an even voice. “The last thing I need is to baby-sit for a grumpy teenager. So go ahead and quit.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “Just know this: You’ve disappointed me.”

  End of speech.

  End of meal.

  WHOSE LIFE IS THIS?

  Whose life is this?

  Don’t you know

  That I am not yours to mold

  Like clay

  I am

  Not your dream child

  Not your wish come true

  How can I find my own way

  If you always tell me what to do?

  © Maggie Blume

  Midnight

  At eleven o’clock someone knocked on my bedroom door and asked, “Are you okay, Maggie?”

  It wasn’t my mother, who was probably having a stiff drink because I ruined dinner.

  And it wasn’t my father, who was probably waiting for me to apologize and beg for my job back at Blume Productions.

  It was Zeke.

  “I’m okay,” I called. “Come on in.”

  I told him I hate it when Dad tries to control every move I make.

  “I know what you mean,” Zeke said. He was carrying a turtle in each hand. “Will you take care of Zeus and Jupiter while I’m gone?” he asked as he laid them on my desk.

  I held Zeus in the palm of my hand. His shell reached all the way to my fingertips. I stroked his shell and his head pulled out and snaked up to me. I told Zeke I’d be glad to take care of his turtles. He said he had e-mailed me directions for their care. “So you have to check your e-mail,” he said.

  Zeke loves to go online and exchange e-mail with his friends. I don’t have anyone to e-mail, except Zeke. Whenever I check my e-mail, all I have are silly messages from my brother.

  We moved Zeus and Jupiter’s box into my room. Curtis was thrilled. Whenever the turtles are around he thinks it’s his job to watch them.

  I told Zeke I was sorry that he had to go to camp. I added that he was probably better off there than at our house. It would be a lot more peaceful.

  “I’d rather be here,” he said. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

  “You mean, like another fight between me and Dad? Is that your idea of entertainment?”

  “Who’s going to be on your side if I’m not here?” he asked.

  That was so sweet. I couldn’t believe it. Sometimes my brother surprises me.

  He asked me if I wanted to see how he plays his Internet adventure game. I agreed, and he went back to his room for his laptop. We hooked it up to my phone line and sat together at my desk. Zeke said that no matter what, he was going to find time to go online at camp “between tennis lessons and dancing lessons.” I said that they probably had phone lines all over that camp. “You should call me while you’re at camp,” I added.

  He said he would, and I had to promise to tell him EVERYTHING that was happening at home. Even unhappy stuff. I think he meant about Mom’s drinking. I’m not really sure how much Zeke understands about that problem. I don’t know much about it myself, since no one ever talks about it.

  After Zeke turned off his computer he went to the kitchen and brought back a brownie and milk for himself and a diet soda for me. While he ate I told him more about the animal shelter and that I hoped Piper hadn’t already filled the position.

  Zeke took a bite of his brownie.

  “Hey, this is like one of those sleepover parties you have with your friends,” he said. “Does that mean I can sleep here?”

  “Sure,” I said. “The extra bed is made up.”

  I’m glad he’s sleeping in my room tonight. I guess I’ll try to sleep now too.

  Zeke made me feel better.

  I am going to miss him. A lot.

  Sunday 7/19

  7:08 P.M.

  LOST ANOTHER POUND.

  I must keep telling myself: I am not hungry.

  I am not hungry.

  I am not hungry.

  What if Piper hired someone else to work in the shelter?

  I left her phone messages at home and at the shelter this afternoon. I wonder how many people answered the ad in the paper. I’m not the only teenager in Palo City who loves animals and would love that job.

  Why didn’t I think to call her at home last night?

  I’m such a jerk.

  Zeke is at camp. I hope he isn’t totally miserable.

  Mom and Dad are at a dinner party. I hope Mom doesn’t drink too much.

  I keep thinking about the fight I had with Dad last night and how I’ve disappointed him. Whenever I remember our fight I feel like I’m crying inside. I wish I could talk to someone about it.

  I would never tell Justin. He might think I’m a complaining spoiled rich brat. He’d probably be right.

  Maybe I could talk to Amalia. No. It took her a long time to find a summer job, so she’d think I was ungrateful to quit a good job.

  Some things you have to keep to yourself.

  7:23 P.M.

  Piper just called. She’s hiring me! I start tomorrow.

  She said she hopes I’m not afraid of hard work. I’m not! It’ll be easier to lose weight if I’m really busy.

  I’m going to e-mail Zeke right away and tell him the good news.

  Monday 7/20

  8:09 P.M.

  SKIPPED LUNCH.

  Supper: Salad, small can of tuna, ¼ bagel (no butter), apple.

  I love my new job.

  It is so wonderful to do something IMPORTANT.

  Job Description: Feed dogs and cats. Organize and supervise dog run. Answer phone during breaks and lunch hour.

  Piper says with more money they could redo the back of the building so every dog has its own run. She has loads of great ideas for improving the shelter.

  I wore new chinos and a white T-shirt to work today. Piper said I was dressed way too fancy for working at the shelter. “Save your good pants and T-shirts. On this job we don’t care how you look. We care about what you do.”

  Dad was always commenting on what I wore to his office. One day he’d say, “Isn’t that a little preppy?” The next day it would be, “That’s too dressy for the office.”

  How can a person have so many clothes and not know what to wear? I don’t have any style. Thank goodness Amalia is helping me pick out something to wear for my date with Justin.

  Meanwhile, the police brought an injured dog to the shelter. She was hit by a car on the freeway. She’s a standard-poodle mix, but she didn’t have a collar. We named her Roxie.

  Besides a broken leg, Roxie is undernourished and big patches of her fur are missing. Piper said she was pretty sure that Roxie once had owners but has probably been a stray for months. The vet set her leg and prescribed a special extra-nourishing diet. Piper said that the collie I like so much, Laddie, looked that bad when he came in. Now Laddie looks great.

  Laddie would be a good model for one of the posters for the benefit.

  To do: Talk to Mom about finding a photog
rapher to take pics of animals at shelter.

  THROWN-AWAY PET

  Thrown-away pet

  Wandering on

  Crossing the highway.

  Horns honk.

  Cars swerve.

  Fear.

  Abandoned. Alone. And you left all alone

  Are men’s hearts made of stone?

  Thrown-away pet.

  Running for safety.

  Car hits

  Bones break.

  Pain.

  Abandoned. Alone.

  Are men’s hearts made of stone?

  © Maggie Blume

  Maybe those could be the lyrics of a song someday.

  Maybe. It would make kind of a tragic song, though.

  Mom and Dad both had dinner dates and it’s Pilar’s day off. Good. There’s no one here to bug me about eating. I’d rather eat alone anyway.

  But this house is SO big when you’re the only one in it. It can be creepy.

  11:09 P.M.

  I heard Mom come in a little while ago. I met her in the family room. She was pouring herself a vodka and tonic (heavy on the vodka, light on the tonic). As I passed our crystal angel statue I touched her wing. I always do that for good luck. The statue is of 2 figures—an angel protecting a child. I love that the angel’s wings are as big as the child and that the child looks up at the angel with total trust. The statue has been in the family room for as long as I can remember.

  I took a live-it soda from the refrigerator under the bar and sat on a stool next to Mom.

  “Well, that was the most boring meeting I have ever been to,” she mumbled.

  “What meeting?” I asked.

  “With my so-called committee. We ate at the Tafts Hotel and tried out the meal they planned for the benefit. Boring food. Boring people. Really, I don’t know why I’m bothering with this auction.”

  She had that faraway, unfocused look in her eyes. A knot of fear formed in my stomach. How can she put on the benefit if she starts drinking?

  I reminded her that she accepted the chairperson’s job because HCA is an important cause. I started to tell her about the dog they brought in today, but she interrupted me.

  “Maggie, we have to do something with your hair. Before the benefit.” She looked at me as if I disgusted her. “And let’s give a little thought to what you’re wearing. Not that I have time.” She sighed and took another slug of her drink.