And then it occurs to me—Maggie should be here. She should be confiding in Ducky, not me.
He knows how to talk. He can ask questions without being obnoxious. Give advice without seeming to. Listen and listen and listen, as if you are the most important person in the world.
Maybe I’m just the wrong person for Maggie.
I almost tell about Maggie’s problem. But I stop myself.
I can’t. That would be betraying her. Talking behind her back.
She has to be the one to approach him.
Ducky stops in front of the house. I invite him inside. I figure, it’s Friday, his parents are still in Ghana, he’s probably facing another night of macaroni & ketchup with his brother. And I’m sure Mami and Papi won’t mind having him over for dinner. Simon Big Tooth Lover Boy freeloads all the time. (OK, he’s Isabel’s boyfriend, but still.)
But Ducky’s face darkens when I ask him to stay. He says he can’t. He has to go to his friend Alex’s. For “damage control.” Meaning Alex is depressed and needs all the friends he can get.
I tell him Alex is lucky to have him as a friend.
Ducky appreciates that. It shows in his face.
Hmm.
What do you think, Nbook?
Me and Ducky?
Nahh.
4:31 P.M.
Maybe.
4:57
Nahh.
6:09
Nbook, I’m scared. And annoyed.
The first time the phone rings, I figure it’s Rico canceling tomorrow’s rehearsal or something.
When the person on the other end hangs up, I don’t think much about it.
The second time it happens, I’m a little creeped.
I mean, it should be no big deal, right? Just a hang-up.
But I’m all alone. Mami and Papi are at their offices. Isabel’s working at the women’s shelter.
And suddenly I’m running around the house, making sure the doors are locked.
The third time, I’m angry.
I pick up and yell, “Who is this?”
Then, click.
I slam the phone down and wish we had Caller ID.
Then I remember what Isabel does every time she misses a phone call and thinks it was Simon. She presses a code and the phone automatically calls back the person who last reached her.
I try it.
“Hello?”
It’s Marina. (Remember her, Nbook, sister of James and former good friend?)
I freeze. I am totally tongue-tied. But not entirely surprised.
I know I should say, “Your brother the jerk is harassing me over the phone again.”
But I don’t want to drag Marina into it. He’s practically ruined our friendship. This would just upset her and make things worse.
So I pretend I just called her casually. I ask if she’s coming to the Vanish rehearsal.
“Am I supposed to?” she asks.
“Nope. Just wondering.”
End of conversation. Good-bye, hang up.
Nbook, I hate being dishonest.
I stand there forever. I can’t decide whether or not to call her back.
And then the phone rings again.
This time I wait for the answering machine. It picks up after the fourth ring.
I ignore it.
I run upstairs.
I jump into bed and bury my head under a pillow.
The phone rings again. And again.
Each time, the machine takes it.
Each time, there’s no message.
Sat., 9/26
3:07 P.M.
Rico’s garage
Vanish rehearsal
This is embarrassing.
I’m running around, fixing things, setting up a tape recorder so we can hear what rehearsal sounds like, basically being a good manager. James is the farthest thing from my mind.
And I notice everyone’s laughing at me.
Rico starts playing some dumb song on his guitar. Justin joins in, singing “Tiptoe Through the Tulips.” Bruce picks up the bass, Patti hits the drumset, and Maggie plays along on the keyboard.
I think they’ve all gone nuts. Then I look at the floor.
Rose petals are scattered at my feet. They have fallen out of my folder. I must have missed them in my big rose petal cleanup.
I hold in my temper. I calmly pick up the petals. I explain where they came from.
The moment I mention James, everyone reacts angrily.
Patti goes off about “girlfriend abuse.”
Bruce says, “Kicking him out of the group was the best thing we ever did.”
“We should have tarred and feathered him,” Rico declares.
And the weird thing is, I’m feeling relieved. Somewhere in my mind I’ve been thinking they all hate me, not him.
Let’s face it, it’s my fault that Vanish lost a good guitar player.
Justin is OK. But he’s still learning. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think he has James’s talent.
“We sound better without James,” Patti is saying.
Everyone agrees.
And I don’t argue.
VANISH, 9/26, 5:00
Nbook, I can’t watch this.
Home
10:57 P.M.
I try to talk to Maggie after rehearsal. But Bruce and Rico pull me aside.
What is this, Nbook?
Like I really need this? I’m so fragile I need protection?
Please.
You know what? It’s not just James I’m sick of.
It’s guys in general.
Sunday, 9/27
6:23 P.M.
FURTHER NOTES ON GUYS & UNTRUSTWORTHINESS
Just random, unscientific observations.
Not to be made public.
They say “talk” when they mean “threaten.”
They hate to cry. (How can you trust someone who won’t cry?)
Everything is a contest. Even relationships.
If they think they’re losing, they either bail out or make you think that you did something wrong.
“Giving” means “expecting something in return.”
“Sympathizing” means “looking for an excuse to play hero.”
Okay, not all guys are like this.
Ducky’s not.
But he doesn’t count. He’s an exception.
From this moment on, Nbook, I am declaring a new policy.
No More Guys.
I hereby swear them off.
Forever.
Monday, 9/28
8:01 A.M.
Great news.
Dawn calls me at 7:45. She’s all breathless.
Maggie finally talked to her last night. Phoned her out of the blue.
She told Dawn every-thing. The eating problem. Her mom and the statue. The pressures.
Plus, Maggie admitted that she’s talked to me too. She swore Dawn to secrecy, but she doesn’t mind if Dawn and I discuss her problem. “Let’s just keep it in the family,” she tells Dawn.
Family.
I guess that’s what we are. Families care. Stick together. Support and love each other.
She’s reaching out, Nbook.
I’m not the only one anymore.
WHAT
A
RELIEF!
Dawn’s pretty upset, though. She’d already suspected Maggie had a problem, but you know Dawn. Always looking on the bright side. She figured it was just a diet that went on too long.
I spend a lot of time telling her what I’ve learned about anorexia.
We talk about ways to help Maggie, but we don’t get too far because we both have to leave.
But I finally feel like I’m doing something useful.
Homeroom
Dawn’s call makes me late. I rush into homeroom. Mr. Leavitt’s back is turned, so I try to slide into my seat.
Only this is sitting here.
“You’re in my seat!” I whisper harshly.
The guy looks startled.
I’ve never seen him before.
He’s kind of cute. His eyes are so green.
Mr. Leavitt turns around and says, “Ah, Amalia. Our last guest. The party can begin.”
I hate sarcastic teachers.
“Sorry,” the guy with the eyes says. He’s fumbling with his stuff, gathering it up. “I’ll move.”
Now I feel awful. I tell him to stay put. It’s OK. I sit in back, near Cece.
I’m sure the guy hates me now. Some introduction to Palo City hospitality.
Mr. Leavitt has just welcomed New Boy.
He’s Brendan Jones. Formerly of Short Hills, New Jersey.
Cool name. (Brendan, not Short Hills.)
He seems pretty quiet.
Cece passes me a note. Three words: BRENDAN = CUTE + MYSTERIOUS.
I give her a look.
She scribbles another one: WEIRD TIME TO SWITCH SCHOOLS, ISN’T IT? PEOPLE MOVE AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SCHOOL YEAR.
To tell the truth, I hadn’t even thought of that. And who cares?
Typical Cece comment. A mountain out of a molehill.
Personally, I think she’s hot for this guy.
C—
Maybe his family had trouble getting here.
Soc. Stud.
I never send Cece the note. The homeroom bell rings too soon.
I’m feeling guilty about yelling at Brendan, so I decide to apologize to him.
But I’m too late.
Rowena Frank has gotten there first. And she’s yapping away: “As your student government president and cool-girl wanna-be, I’m supposed to show you around and impress you…”
Well, something like that.
She walks confidently out of the classroom. Brendan trails behind.
Cece and I are trying not to laugh as we leave the room.
Then I see James.
He’s standing in the shadow of the lockers. Staring at me. Not even smiling.
Cece and I stop laughing. We walk past him.
So now I’m thinking Is he mad? Did something happen? Did Rico or Bruce “talk to him”? Did they say something stupid?
Do I need to be careful?
Math
Just back from lunch.
Got 2 write fast. Ms. Sevekow on warpath.
Dawn & I meet Maggie on lunch line.
We’re picking out food. D & I keeping our mouths shut. No pressure for M.
M is having rough time. Takes salad from rack but brushes off egg slice & avocado. Reaches for roll, puts it back. Eyes the granola bars but doesn’t even try.
M notices we’re looking at her. Smiles & turns red.
D says the veggie sandwich is good. M stares at it for second & says, “I’ll try it.”
We all leave the line. Sit.
D & I eat. M looks tense. Takes a bite of sandwich and makes a face. As if she just bit into a mouse tail.
“There’s mayonnaise,” she says.
We say oh.
She shrugs.
We shrug.
No one knows what to say next.
Finally M breaks into a big, embarrassed smile. “Sorry, guys. This is hard.” This meaning eating.
Cool. We understand.
Science
Sorry, had to stop.
Now it’s lab report time. I can write for real.
Where was I?
Lunch. Maggie admits she’s having a hard time.
I say, “I see you’re trying.” (See? An “I” sentence.)
She seems upset. “I don’t like the way this feels.”
“What?” Dawn asks.
“The eating, the pressure, all of it,” Maggie replies. “I can’t do this, guys.”
Now, I know I’m not supposed to give advice, Nbook. But I want to. The look on Maggie’s face is breaking my heart. So I think about what Mami would do in this situation. She meets lots of troubled kids in her social work. When things get really serious, she refers them to a psychologist. This friend of hers. I forget her name, but she’s supposed to be fantastic.
I can’t keep it in. “Maybe you should see someone,” I say. “Like a therapist.”
Maggie sighs. “Both my parents see therapists and it doesn’t do them any good.”
“How about a teacher?” Dawn asks. “Or a guidance counselor?”
“No,” says Maggie. “I can’t talk to anyone in the school. Then everyone will find out.”
“How about your doctor?” I suggest. (I mean, anorexia IS a medical problem.)
“Dr. Fradkin still gives me lollipops at the end of checkups,” Maggie replies. “Besides, he and Dad play golf.”
Dawn and I fall silent.
The bell rings.
End of discussion.
P.S. She doesn’t eat the rest of the sandwich.
But she has a few bites of the salad.
Oh, well.
One.
Step.
At.
A.
Time.
Study hall
I can’t even concentrate the rest of the day.
After science I see Dawn with Maggie in the hallway. Brendan lopes past us. He’s being led around by Rowena like a Chihuahua.
He’s kind of cute. Not drop-dead-hunk cute, but sort of slouchy-nice-guy cute. I wish he’d smile more. He never looks happy.
Maybe that’s because he’s always around Rowena.
Maggie says, “You know him?”
“Not really,” I answer. “Why?”
“He smiled at you.” She raises an eyebrow. “He likes you, Amalia.”
A joke. Maggie’s sense of humor is coming back. This is a good sign.
I tell her my current Theory of Guys. I make it totally clear that I am so over them. Brendan is no exception, jesting or not. He is nobody.
But now Maggie and Dawn are both laughing at me.
I shut my mouth and take it.
I don’t mind.
Much.
Back again
Still study hall
Oh, by the way. The eyes are bluish, not all green.
Not that it matters.
I’m just reporting.
Home
4:30
Big news, Nbook.
Big BIG news.
It’s after school. I’m just about to slam my locker shut and run out, when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
Oh, great, I think.
James.
I’m angry. I don’t know what I’m capable of doing.
I spin around.
It’s not James. It’s Christina McDonnell.
What a relief.
What a surprise.
A nice one. I don’t know her, but I’ve always wanted to. She seems cool. Friendly. Pretty. Popular.
She asks if I’m the manager of Vanish. When I say yes, she brightens right up. She says she’s a big fan. She saw us at the Battle of the Bands and we deserved first place.
Then she says something like, “I know this is short notice, and I’m sure your schedule is too busy—but is there a chance you could play the Vista Homecoming Bash on the 10th?”
I’m thinking, a job? Us?
The yes rushes out of my throat so fast I choke on it.
Christina explains that the Bash isn’t really a date party. People will be coming in groups, mostly. A DJ will play tunes after our set.
Cool, I say.
She goes on to say that she already approached Rico about this, and he said that I handle the pay arrangements and scheduling.
Pay?
I blurt out, “We’re free!”
Idiot! I’m screaming to myself.
But Christina has misunderstood me. She thinks, free as in available. She’s writing in her datebook. “Good. I’ll pencil you in. Now, what’s your normal fee?”
I’m not even rational. I’m not thinking. Part of me wants to laugh. Part of me wants to offer to pay
her.
A third part of me pushes the other parts aside.
It says $500.
> I have no idea where that came from. I’m in shock.
I think Christina’s going to faint. I think I’m going to faint.
I’m about to say “Just kidding,” but she speaks first.
“It’s a deal.”
A deal?
I’m stunned.
I’m about to scream hallelujah.
But I’m also the manager, and I have to look after my group’s best interests. So I tell her I’ll have to check it out with the band at rehearsal tonight and then get back to her tomorrow.
Can you believe this, Nbook?
Our first paying gig!
I’M FLOATINNNNGGGG!
11:12 P.M.
Long night.
Where to begin?
Okay. Start at the good part.
Mami drives me to Rico’s. But because she came home late from work, I’m the last one at the rehearsal.
I notice Justin hanging out with Bruce at the snack table (“the trough,” as Mr. Chavez calls it). I see Maggie playing keyboard, ignoring him. This is not good. I make a mental note to talk to her later.
Then I see Rico. He’s grinning.
I assume he’s told everyone about Christina’s offer. But no one seems excited.
Suddenly he jacks up his amp and strikes a loud TWWANNNNNG! on his guitar.
“Yo, listen up, everybody! Amalia has a big announcement!”
He’s left all the glory to me. (I love Rico. Even if he is a guy.)
I jump onto the platform and grab Maggie’s mike. She’s giving me this curious look.
Everyone bursts into wild applause when I tell them about the gig.
I save the part about the money for last.
When they hear that, they’re screaming. Jumping on me. Hugging me. Lifting me off the ground.
“I said 500, not 500,000!” I shout.
No one cares. I could have said 50, and they’d be happy.
Rico starts playing “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” His parents announce they’re getting ice cream and snacks to celebrate. I’m feeling fantastic.
Then I look at Maggie.
Diary Two: Dawn, Sunny, Maggie, Amalia, and Ducky Page 20
